|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: Pavel made a rasping sound when he breathed, and he kept moaning.
We waited. The wind shook the doors and windows impatiently,
then swept on again, singing through the big spaces. Each gust,
as it bore down, rattled the panes, and swelled off like the others.
They made me think of defeated armies, retreating; or of
ghosts who were trying desperately to get in for shelter,
and then went moaning on. Presently, in one of those sobbing
intervals between the blasts, the coyotes tuned up with their
whining howl; one, two, three, then all together--to tell us
that winter was coming. This sound brought an answer from the bed--
a long complaining cry--as if Pavel were having bad dreams or were
 My Antonia |