| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas: I kill you, I shall have the air of a boy-slayer."
"Not too much so," replied D'Artagnan, with a bow that was not
deficient in dignity, "since you do me the honor to draw a sword
with me while suffering from a wound which is very inconvenient."
"Very inconvenient, upon my word; and you hurt me devilishly, I
can tell you. But I will take the left hand--it is my custom in
such circumstances. Do not fancy that I do you a favor; I use
either hand easily. And it will be even a disadvantage to you; a
left-handed man is very troublesome to people who are not
prepared for it. I regret I did not inform you sooner of this
circumstance."
The Three Musketeers |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart: "Well, I slipped across and behind the curtains. It was very still.
The man in ten didn't move, although my heart was thumping until I
thought he would hear it.
"I felt around cautiously. It was perfectly dark, and I came across
a bit of chain, about as long as my finger. It seemed a queer thing
to find there, and it was sticky, too."
He shuddered, and I could see Alison's hands clenching and
unclenching with the strain.
"All at once it struck me that the man was strangely silent, and I
think I lost my nerve. Anyhow, I drew the curtains open a little,
and let the light fall on my hands. They were red, blood-red."
The Man in Lower Ten |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar: one to learn that in this world there are faithless ones who may
glance tenderly into one's eyes at mass and pass the holy water
on caressing fingers without being madly in love? There was no
one to tell Odalie, so she sat at home in the dull first days of
Lent, and nursed her dear dead love, and mourned as women have
done from time immemorial over the faithlessness of man. And
when one day she asked that she might go back to the Ursulines'
convent where her childish days were spent, only to go this time
as a nun, Monsieur le Juge and Tante Louise thought it quite the
proper and convenient thing to do; for how were they to know the
secret of that Mardi Gras day?
The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories |
