| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Virginian by Owen Wister: looked at Pedro, the horse that he had first maimed and now
ruined, to whom he probably owed his life. He was lying on the
ground, quietly looking over the green meadow, where dusk was
gathering. Perhaps he was not suffering from his wound yet, as he
rested on the ground; and into his animal intelligence there
probably came no knowledge of this final stroke of his fate. At
any rate, no sound of pain came from Pedro, whose friendly and
gentle face remained turned toward the meadow. Once more Balaam
fired his pistol, and this time the aim was true, and the horse
rolled over, with a ball through his brain. It was the best
reward that remained for him.
The Virginian |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: latter hung folded in her hands now, and even though he had seen
them on her at the Silver Sphinx last night.
"What clothes do you suppose they are but my own? - though I haven't
had a chance to wear them much lately!" she countered crisply.
He scowled at her speculatively.
"What are you doing with them out here in this hole, then?" he
demanded.
"I had to wear them last night, hadn't I?" she retorted. "I'd have
looked well coming out of Gypsy Nan's garret dressed as myself if any
one had seen me! She scowled at him in turn. She was beginning to
believe that he had not even an inkling of her identity. Her safest
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Just Folks by Edgar A. Guest: And scrapes all the skin off his shins and his knees?
Who sometimes comes home all bespattered with blood
That was drawn by a fall? It's that rascal called Bud.
Yet, who is it makes all our toiling worth while?
Who can cure every ache that we know, by his smile?
Who is prince to his mother and king to his dad
And makes us forget that we ever were sad?
Who is center of all that we dream of and plan,
Our baby to-day but to-morrow our man?
It's that tough little, rough little tyke in the mud,
That tousled-haired, fun-loving rascal called Bud!
Just Folks |
