| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Redheaded Outfield by Zane Grey: of the plate. He's wild, though, and will never
make good in fast company. I won his game today.
He wouldn't have lasted an inning without
me. It was dead wrong for Pat to pitch him.
Dalgren simply can't pitch and he hasn't sand
enough to learn.''
A hot retort trembled upon Madge Ellston's
lips, but she withheld it and quietly watched
Carroll. How complacent he was, how utterly self-
contained!
``And Billie Sheldon--wasn't it good to see him
The Redheaded Outfield |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Deserted Woman by Honore de Balzac: exception who had striven, and vainly striven, to enlighten the rest.
But any stranger so ill advised as to concur in any of their freely
expressed criticism of each other, is pronounced at once to be an ill-
natured person, a heathen, an outlaw, a reprobate Parisian "as
Parisians mostly are."
Before Gaston de Nueil made his appearance in this little world of
strictly observed etiquette, where every detail of life is an
integrant part of a whole, and everything is known; where the values
of personalty and real estate is quoted like stocks on the vast sheet
of the newspaper--before his arrival he had been weighed in the
unerring scales of Bayeusaine judgment.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom by William and Ellen Craft: thee; so thou mayest make thyself quite at ease!"
These soft and soothing words fell like balm upon
my wife's unstrung nerves, and melted her to
tears; her fears and prejudices vanished, and from
that day she has firmly believed that there are good
and bad persons of every shade of complexion.
After seeing Sally Ann and Jacob, two coloured
domestics, my wife felt quite at home. After par-
taking of what Mrs. Stowe's Mose and Pete called
a "busting supper," the ladies wished to know
whether we could read. On learning we could not,
Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom |
