| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Long Odds by H. Rider Haggard: lion as an express bullet. The lion is soft, and not a difficult animal
to finish if you hit him anywhere in the body. A buck takes far more
killing.
"Well, I started, and the first thing I set to work to do was to try to
discover whereabouts the brutes lay up for the day. About three hundred
yards from the waggon was the crest of a rise covered with single mimosa
trees, dotted about in a park-like fashion, and beyond this lay a
stretch of open plain running down to a dry pan, or water-hole, which
covered about an acre of ground, and was densely clothed with reeds, now
in the sere and yellow leaf. From the further edge of this pan the
ground sloped up again to a great cleft, or nullah, which had been cut
Long Odds |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from What is Man? by Mark Twain: To find the number of square feet in a room you multiply the
room by the number of the feet. The product is the result.
Right you are. In the matter of geography this little book
is unspeakably rich. The questions do not appear to have applied
the microscope to the subject, as did those quoted by Professor
Ravenstein; still, they proved plenty difficult enough without
that. These pupils did not hunt with a microscope, they hunted
with a shot-gun; this is shown by the crippled condition of the
game they brought in:
America is divided into the Passiffic slope and the Mississippi valey.
North America is separated by Spain.
What is Man? |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from House of Mirth by Edith Wharton: winter, rattling round in that empty house. My wife meant to come
to town today, but she's put it off again, and how is a fellow to
dine alone in a room with the looking-glasses covered, and
nothing but a bottle of Harvey sauce on the side-board? I say,
Lawrence, chuck your engagement and take pity on me--it gives me
the blue devils to dine alone, and there's nobody but
that canting ass Wetherall in the club."
"Sorry, Gus--I can't do it."
As Selden turned away, he noticed the dark flush on Trenor's
face, the unpleasant moisture of his intensely white forehead,
the way his jewelled rings were wedged in the creases of his fat
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