| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Summer by Edith Wharton: ahead, the lantern shaking in her hand and
spreading out before her a pale patch of dead grass and
coarse-leaved weeds enclosed in an immensity of
blackness.
Mr. Miles took Charity by the arm, and side by side
they walked behind the mattress. At length the old
woman with the lantern stopped, and Charity saw the
light fall on the stooping shoulders of the bearers and
on a ridge of upheaved earth over which they were
bending. Mr. Miles released her arm and approached the
hollow on the other side of the ridge; and while the
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa: Near the entrance way she stooped low, at once shifting the
bundle to the right and with both hands lifting the noose from over
her head. Having thus dropped the wood to the ground, she
disappeared into her teepee. In a moment she came running out
again, crying, "My son! My little son is gone!" Her keen eyes
swept east and west and all around her. There was nowhere any sign
of the child.
Running with clinched fists to the nearest teepees, she
called: "Has any one seen my baby? He is gone! My little son is
gone!"
"Hinnu! Hinnu!" exclaimed the women, rising to their feet and
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: might." Then, quite suddenly, he stood up, knocked the ash out of
his pipe, and came over to Mary Louise, who was preparing to
descend the steep little flight of stairs.
"Look here, Mary Louise Moss, from Escanaba, Michigan, you
stop trying to write the slop you're writing now. Stop it. Drop
the love tales that are like the stuff that everybody else writes.
Stop trying to write about New York. You don't know anything about
it. Listen. You get back to work, and write about Mrs. Next Door,
and the hair-washing, and the vegetable garden, and bees, and the
back yard, understand? You write the way you talked to me, and
then you send your stuff in to Cecil Reeves."
 Buttered Side Down |