| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Awakening & Selected Short Stories by Kate Chopin: "No. I should like him better if he did; if he were more like
others, and I had to plan somewhat for his comfort and enjoyment."
Gaston took his wife's pretty face between his hands and
looked tenderly and laughingly into her troubled eyes.
They were making a bit of toilet sociably together in Mrs. Baroda's
dressing-room.
"You are full of surprises, ma belle," he said to her. "Even
I can never count upon how you are going to act under given
conditions." He kissed her and turned to fasten his cravat before
the mirror.
"Here you are," he went on, "taking poor Gouvernail seriously
Awakening & Selected Short Stories |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Phantasmagoria and Other Poems by Lewis Carroll: He heard once more the words she said.
He left her, and he turned aside:
He sat and watched the coming tide
Across the shores so newly dried.
He wondered at the waters clear,
The breeze that whispered in his ear,
The billows heaving far and near,
And why he had so long preferred
To hang upon her every word:
"In truth," he said, "it was absurd."
The Third Voice
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its ragged vent.
"Look back!" said Mescal.
Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white
streams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous cascade.
Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a broken, foaming
raceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its final leap into a
blue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, hidden underground.
The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long
after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the
close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones
cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow
The Heritage of the Desert |
