| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Octopus by Frank Norris: and more disgusted. Dabney, standing to one side, overlooked and
forgotten, continued to sip steadily at his glass, solemn,
reserved. Garnett of the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of
the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, and Chattern of the
Bonanza, leaned back in their chairs, their waist-coats
unbuttoned, their legs spread wide, laughing--they could not tell
why. Other ranchers, men whom Annixter had never seen, appeared
in the room, wheat growers from places as far distant as Goshen
and Pixley; young men and old, proprietors of veritable
principalities, hundreds of thousands of acres of wheat lands, a
dozen of them, a score of them; men who were strangers to each
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Middlemarch by George Eliot: from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will. He drew it up.
A very respectable solicitor."
"I never noticed any alienation of mind--any aberration of intellect
in the late Mr. Featherstone," said Borthrop Trumbull, "but I call this
will eccentric. I was always willingly of service to the old soul;
and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show
itself in his will. The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as
an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations."
"There's nothing very surprising in the matter that I can see,"
said Caleb Garth. "Anybody might have had more reason for wondering
if the will had been what you might expect from an open-minded
Middlemarch |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Danny's Own Story by Don Marquis: somewheres up stairs. Beauregard, he grinned and
rubbed his nose some more, and looked at me like
he thought that mewing noise was the smartest
sound that ever was made.
"Boy," he says, grinning, "bo'n five hours ago.
I've done named him Burley--after the tobaccer
association, yo' know. Yes, SIR, Burley Peoples
is his name--and he shore kin squall, the derned
little cuss!"
"Yes," I says, "you better stay with Burley.
Lend me a rig of some sort and I'll take Bud home."
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