|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber:
each of them another cooky.
Back to my typewriter. But the words flatly refuse
to come now. I make six false starts, bite all my best
finger-nails, screw my hair into a wilderness of
cork-screws and give it up. No doubt a real Lady Writer
could write on, unruffled and unhearing, while the iceman
squashed the cucumbers, and the roast burned to a
frazzle, and the Spalpeens perished of hunger. Possessed
of the real spark of genius, trivialities like milkmen
and cucumbers could not dim its glow. Perhaps all
successful Lady Writers with real live sparks have cooks
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Purse by Honore de Balzac:
additions--a sort of domestic fresco.
Adelaide hastened to open the door of the inner room, where she
announced the painter with evident pleasure. Hippolyte, who, of
yore, had seen the same signs of poverty in his mother's home,
noted them with the singular vividness of impression which
characterizes the earliest acquisitions of memory, and entered
into the details of this existence better than any one else would
have done. As he recognized the facts of his life as a child, the
kind young fellow felt neither scorn for disguised misfortune nor
pride in the luxury he had lately conquered for his mother.
"Well, monsieur, I hope you no longer feel the effects of your
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo:
tell him things you could a real mother," she added, half sadly.
"And your real mother went away when you were very young?"
"No, she didn't go AWAY----"
"No?" There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice.
"She went out," Polly corrected.
"Out!" he echoed blankly.
"Yes--finished-- Lights out."
"Oh, an accident." Douglas understood at last.
"I don't like to talk about it." Polly raised herself on her
elbow and looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit
of forbidden family history. It was this look in the round eyes