| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton by Edith Wharton: out the fairly obvious monument to a bashful companion, who had
presumably not ventured to raise his eyes to it; while, at the
doors of the Seraglio, a group of turbaned infidels observed with
less hesitancy the approach of a veiled lady on a camel. But in
Venice so many things were happening at once--more, Tony was
sure, than had ever happened in Boston in a twelve-month or in
Salem in a long lifetime. For here, by their garb, were people
of every nation on earth, Chinamen, Turks, Spaniards, and many
more, mixed with a parti-coloured throng of gentry, lacqueys,
chapmen, hucksters, and tall personages in parsons' gowns who
stalked through the crowd with an air of mastery, a string of
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Under the Red Robe by Stanley Weyman: shadowy creature, but red-lipped, brilliant, throbbing with life
and beauty, she stood opposite me--her eyes shining, her colour
high, her breast heaving.
'Do I believe it?' she said in a thrilling voice. 'I will tell
you. M. de Cocheforet's hiding-place is in the hut behind the
fern-stack, two furlongs beyond the village on the road to Auch.
You know now what no one else knows, he and I and Madame
excepted. You hold in your hands his life and my honour; and you
know also, M. de Berault, whether I believe that tale.'
'My God!' I cried. And I stood looking at her until something
of the horror in my eyes crept into hers, and she shuddered and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: and never walked across an open glade without first waiting and watching. He
listened to all sounds; but none were unfamiliar. He closely examined the sand
along the stream, and the moss and leaves under the trees. When he had been
separated from Wetzel several hours, and concluded he would slowly return to
camp, he ran across a well-beaten path winding through the forest. This was,
perhaps, one of the bridle-trails Wetzel had referred to. He bent over the
worn grass with keen scrutiny.
CRACK!
The loud report of a heavily charged rifle rang out. Joe felt the zip of a
bullet as it fanned his cheek. With an agile leap he gained the shelter of a
tree, from behind which he peeped to see who had shot at him. He was just in
The Spirit of the Border |
