| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey: our beds here."
"Glenn, you shore are a nervy fellow," drawled Flo.
Long after everybody was in bed Carley lay awake in the blackness of the
cabin, sensitively fidgeting and quivering over imaginative contact with
creeping things. The fire had died out. A cold air passed through the room.
On the roof pattered gusts of rain. Carley heard a rustling of mice. It did
not seem possible that she could keep awake, yet she strove to do so. But
her pangs of body, her extreme fatigue soon yielded to the quiet and rest
of her bed, engendering a drowsiness that proved irresistible.
Morning brought fair weather and sunshine, which helped to sustain Carley
in her effort to brave out her pains and woes. Another disagreeable day
The Call of the Canyon |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift: When I found myself on my feet, I looked about me, and must
confess I never beheld a more entertaining prospect. The country
around appeared like a continued garden, and the enclosed fields,
which were generally forty feet square, resembled so many beds of
flowers. These fields were intermingled with woods of half a
stang, (1) and the tallest trees, as I could judge, appeared to
be seven feet high. I viewed the town on my left hand, which
looked like the painted scene of a city in a theatre.
I had been for some hours extremely pressed by the necessities of
nature; which was no wonder, it being almost two days since I had
last disburdened myself. I was under great difficulties between
Gulliver's Travels |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Baltimore by Owen Wister: broke out, "that you wouldn't have resented it yourself?"
"O dear!" my mind lamentably said to itself, inside. Of what may have
been the exterior that I presented to her, sitting over my slice of Lady
Baltimore, I can form no impression.
"Put yourself in his place," the girl continued.
"Ah," I gasped, "that is always so easy to say and so hard to do."
My remark proved not a happy one. She made a brief, cold pause over it,
and then, as she wheeled round from me, back to the counter: "No
Southerner would let pass such an affront."
It was final. She regained her usual place, she resumed her ledger; the
curly dog, who had come out to hear our conversation, went in again; I
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