| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Rezanov by Gertrude Atherton: the farther peaks remained a pale misty blue, and
were of an indescribable floating delicacy.
Concha pointed to the eastern double cone. "That
is Monte del Diablo. Once they say it spouted fire,
but that was long ago, and all our volcanoes are
dead. But perhaps not so long ago. The Indians
tell the strange story that their grandfathers remem-
bered when this bay was a valley covered with oak
trees, and the rivers of the north flowed through
and emptied into Lake Merced and a rift by the
Fort. Then came a tremendous earthquake and
Rezanov |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Virginian by Owen Wister: sleep while night-herding.
Then Balaam threw another glance on Pedro the horse.
"Hello, Shorty!" he called out, for the boy was departing. "Don't
you like dinner any more? It's ready about now."
Shorty forded the creek and slung his saddle off, and on
invitation turned Pedro, his buckskin pony, into Balaam's
pasture. This was green, the rest of the wide world being yellow,
except only where Butte Creek, with its bordering cottonwoods,
coiled away into the desert distance like a green snake without
end. The Virginian also turned his horse into the pasture. He
must stay at the ranch till the Judge's horses should be found.
The Virginian |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell: for she said, "You are the only friend I ever had."
Just then her driver came up, and with a tug at her mouth backed her
out of the line and drove off, leaving me very sad indeed.
A short time after this a cart with a dead horse in it passed our cab-stand.
The head hung out of the cart-tail, the lifeless tongue was slowly
dropping with blood; and the sunken eyes! but I can't speak of them,
the sight was too dreadful. It was a chestnut horse with a long, thin neck.
I saw a white streak down the forehead. I believe it was Ginger;
I hoped it was, for then her troubles would be over. Oh! if men were
more merciful they would shoot us before we came to such misery.
41 The Butcher
|
