| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Nada the Lily by H. Rider Haggard: fingers only on his right hand. There is a kloof on the Boer's farm
where mimosa-trees grow. There, in the kloof, you shall find your oxen
--yes, five days' journey from here you will find them all. I say all,
my father, except three only--the big black Africander ox, the little
red Zulu ox with one horn, and the speckled ox. You shall not find
these, for they have died in the snow. Send, and you will find the
others. No, no! I ask no fee! I do not work wonders for reward. Why
should I? I am rich."
Now the White Man scoffed. But in the end, so great is the power of
superstition, he sent. And here it may be stated that on the eleventh
day of his sojourn at the kraal of Zweete, those whom he sent returned
Nada the Lily |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey: such a beautiful spot. Euchre's shack sat against the first
rise of the slope of the wall, and Duane, by climbing a few
rods, got a view of the whole valley. Assuredly it was an
outlaw settle meet. He saw a good many Mexicans, who, of
course, were hand and glove with Bland. Also he saw enormous
flat-boats, crude of structure, moored along the banks of the
river. The Rio Grande rolled away between high bluffs. A cable,
sagging deep in the middle, was stretched over the wide yellow
stream, and an old scow, evidently used as a ferry, lay
anchored on the far shore.
The valley was an ideal retreat for an outlaw band operating on
The Lone Star Ranger |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Modeste Mignon by Honore de Balzac: alone for an instant. Dumay passed nights under her window wrapped in
his cloak like a jealous Spaniard; but with all his military sagacity
he was unable to detect the least suspicious sign. Unless she loved
the nightingales in the villa park, or some fairy prince, Modeste
could have seen no one, and had neither given nor received a signal.
Madame Dumay, who never went to bed till she knew Modeste was asleep,
watched the road from the upper windows of the Chalet with a vigilance
equal to her husband's. Under these eight Argus eyes the blameless
child, whose every motion was studied and analyzed, came out of the
ordeal so fully acquitted of all criminal conversation that the four
friends declared to each other privately that Madame Mignon was
Modeste Mignon |
