| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey: again. Good-by."
The operator stared, but did not speak a word.
Duane left as stealthily and swiftly as he had come. He walked
his horse a couple miles back on the road and then rested him
till break of day. The east began to redden, Duane turned
grimly in the direction of Ord.
When Duane swung into the wide, grassy square on the outskirts
of Ord he saw a bunch of saddled horses hitched in front of the
tavern. He knew what that meant. Luck still favored him. If it
would only hold! But he could ask no more. The rest was a
matter of how greatly he could make his power felt. An open
The Lone Star Ranger |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: "Maybe it were as well had it been final," I said. "We
seem to be in a pretty fix here with a splendid chance of
dying of starvation and thirst."
"Where are we?"
"Beneath the arena," I replied. "We tumbled down the
shaft that swallowed Issus as she was almost at our mercy."
He laughed a low laugh of pleasure and relief, and then
reaching out through the inky blackness he sought my
shoulder and pulled my ear close to his mouth.
"Nothing could be better," he whispered. "There are secrets
within the secrets of Issus of which Issus herself does not dream."
The Gods of Mars |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Glasses by Henry James: content to accept small things and to believe that grave tidings,
should there be any, would come to me in due course. The gravity
of what might happen to a featherweight became indeed with time and
distance less appreciable, and I was not without an impression that
Mrs. Meldrum, whose sense of proportion was not the least of her
merits, had no idea of boring the world with the ups and downs of
her pensioner. The poor girl grew dusky and dim, a small fitful
memory, a regret tempered by the comfortable consciousness of how
kind Mrs. Meldrum would always be to her. I was professionally
more preoccupied than I had ever been, and I had swarms of pretty
faces in my eyes and a chorus of loud tones in my ears. Geoffrey
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