| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: and held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the
long autumn.
As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and
suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he
hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, capable
of keeping pace with his companions.
He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated
tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in
the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his
step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that
Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near
The Heritage of the Desert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas: thousand livres. He does not pay me and I sell the sugars
for thirteen hundred livres. He learns this and claims a
hundred crowns. Ma foi! I refused, pretending that I could
not sell them for more than nine hundred livres. He accused
me of usury. I begged him to repeat that word to me behind
the boulevards. He was an old guard, and he came: and I
passed your sword through his left thigh."
"Tu dieu! what a pretty sort of banker you make!" said
D'Artagnan.
"For above thirteen per cent. I fight," replied Planchet;
"that is my character."
Ten Years Later |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from McTeague by Frank Norris: his hand.
"Oh, say--say," gasped Trina, trying to get her voice, "say,
come over here quick."
The butcher's boy paused, one foot on the wheel, and stared.
Trina beckoned frantically.
"Come over here, come over here quick."
The young fellow swung himself into his seat.
"What's the matter with that woman?" he said, half aloud.
"There's a murder been done," cried Trina, swaying in
the doorway.
The young fellow drove away, his head over his shoulder,
McTeague |
