| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela: a decision. From a pole in the hut she took down a piece
of strong leather which her husband used to hitch up the
yoke. This pole stood between a picture of Christ and
one of the Virgin. Agapita promptly twisted the leather
and proceeded to administer a sound thrashing to Camil-
la in order to dispel the evil spirits.
Riding proudly on his horse, Demetrio felt like a new
man. His eyes recovered their peculiar metallic brilliance,
and the blood flowed, red and warm, through his cop-
pery, pure-blooded Aztec cheeks.
The men threw out their chests as if to breathe the
The Underdogs |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Chessmen of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: fabled Corphals existed, as none but the most ignorant now
believes, the lore of the ancients tells us that they entered
only into the bodies of wicked criminals of the lowest class. Man
of Manator, thou art a fool, and thy jeddak and all his people,"
and she turned her royal back upon the padwar, and gazed through
the window across the Field of Jetan and the roofs of Manator
through the low hills and the rolling country and freedom.
"And you know so much of Corphals, then," he cried, "you know
that while no common man dare harm them they may be slain by the
hand of a jeddak with impunity!"
The girl did not reply, nor would she speak again, for all his
The Chessmen of Mars |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Edingburgh Picturesque Notes by Robert Louis Stevenson: adventures, and chill their marrow with winter's tales
about the fire: tales that are singularly apposite and
characteristic, not only of the old life, but of the very
constitution of built nature in that part, and singularly
well qualified to add horror to horror, when the wind
pipes around the tall LANDS, and hoots adown arched
passages, and the far-spread wilderness of city lamps
keeps quavering and flaring in the gusts.
Here, it is the tale of Begbie the bank-porter,
stricken to the heart at a blow and left in his blood
within a step or two of the crowded High Street. There,
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