| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Voice of the City by O. Henry: of Medora Martin be to future generations
For two days Medora kept her room. On the
third she opened a magazine at the portrait of the
King of Belgium, and laughed sardonically. If that
far-famed breaker of women's hearts should cross her
path, he would have to bow before her cold and im-
perious beauty. She would not spare the old or
the young. All America -- all Europe should do
homage to her sinister, but compelling charm.
As yet she could not bear to think of the life she
had once desired -- a peaceful one in the shadow of
The Voice of the City |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber: t' you. Now, listen. Remember my tellin' you, a few
weeks ago, 'bout that vacation I was plannin'? This is
it, only it's come sooner than I expected, that's all.
I seen two three doctor guys about it. Your friend Von
Gerhard was one of 'em. They didn't tell me t' take no
ocean trip this time. Between 'em, they decided my
vacation would come along about November, maybe. Well,
I beat 'em to it, that's all. Sa-a-ay, girl, I ain't
kickin'. You can't live on your nerves and expect t'
keep goin'. Sooner or later you'll be suein' those same
nerves for non-support. But, kid, ain't it a shame that
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Vailima Letters by Robert Louis Stevenson: is of no use. And it is a curious yarn. Honestly, I think
people should be amused and convinced, if they could be at
the pains to look at such a damned outlandish piece of
machinery, which of course they won't. And much I care.
When I was filling baskets all Saturday, in my dull mulish
way, perhaps the slowest worker there, surely the most
particular, and the only one that never looked up or knocked
off, I could not but think I should have been sent on
exhibition as an example to young literary men. Here is how
to learn to write, might be the motto. You should have seen
us; the verandah was like an Irish bog; our hands and faces
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