| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Troll Garden and Selected Stories by Willa Cather: train to Deadwood, dined in a camp of railroad constructors at the
world's end beyond New Castle, gone through the Black Hills on
horseback, fished for trout in Dome Lake, watched a dance at
Cripple Creek, where the lost souls who hide in the hills
gathered for their besotted revelry. And now, last of all, before
the return to thraldom, there was this little shack, anchored on
the windy crest of the Divide, a little black dot against the
flaming sunsets, a scented sea of cornland bathed in opalescent air
and blinding sunlight.
Margaret Elliot was one of those women of whom there are so
many in this day, when old order, passing, giveth place to new;
The Troll Garden and Selected Stories |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Nana, Miller's Daughter, Captain Burle, Death of Olivier Becaille by Emile Zola: nine o'clock punctually."
For a moment they remained silent and, looking upward, scanned the
shadowy boxes. But the green paper with which these were hung
rendered them more shadowy still. Down below, under the dress
circle, the lower boxes were buried in utter night. In those on the
second tier there was only one stout lady, who was stranded, as it
were, on the velvet-covered balustrade in front of her. On the
right hand and on the left, between lofty pilasters, the stage
boxes, bedraped with long-fringed scalloped hangings, remained
untenanted. The house with its white and gold, relieved by soft
green tones, lay only half disclosed to view, as though full of a
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Europeans by Henry James: so instead of going directly down the little drive, to the gate,
she wandered away towards the garden, which lay to the right of the house.
She had not gone many yards over the grass before she paused quickly;
she perceived a gentleman stretched upon the level verdure,
beneath a tree. He had not heard her coming, and he lay motionless,
flat on his back, with his hands clasped under his head,
staring up at the sky; so that the Baroness was able to reflect,
at her leisure, upon the question of his identity.
It was that of a person who had lately been much in her thoughts;
but her first impulse, nevertheless, was to turn away; the last thing
she desired was to have the air of coming in quest of Robert Acton.
|
