| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Research Magnificent by H. G. Wells: she had ceased to plot against him. A vast wave of emotion swept
her forward to a resolution that astonished her.
"Cheetah!" she said, and the very quality of her voice had changed,
"give me one thing. Stay until June with me."
"Why?" he asked.
Her answer came in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper.
"Because--now--no, I don't want to keep you any more--I am not
trying to hold you any more. . . . I want. . . ."
She came forward to him and looked up closely at his face.
"Cheetah," she whispered almost inaudibly, "Cheetah--I didn't
understand. But now--. I want to bear your child."
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll: it (backwards, of course) out of the house, to meet the butcher,
who was coming (also backwards) down the road?
The longer I thought over this strange adventure, the more hopelessly
tangled the mystery became: and it was a real relief to meet Arthur in
the road, and get him to go with me up to the Hall, to learn what news
the telegraph had brought. I told him, as we went, what had happened
at the Station, but as to my further adventures I thought it best, for
the present, to say nothing.
The Earl was sitting alone when we entered. "I am glad you are come in
to keep me company," he said. "Muriel is gone to bed--the excitement
of that terrible scene was too much for her--and Eric has gone to the
Sylvie and Bruno |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual
descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night
hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of
Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on
Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the
trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the
right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or
snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no
sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he
caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements
became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn
The Heritage of the Desert |
