| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Vailima Letters by Robert Louis Stevenson: one chapter done; no doubt this spate of work is pretty low
now, and will be soon dry; but, God bless you, what a lot I
have accomplished; WRECKER done, BEACH OF FALESA done, half
the HISTORY: C'EST ETONNANT. (I hear from Burlingame, by the
way, that he likes the end of the WRECKER; 'tis certainly a
violent, dark yarn with interesting, plain turns of human
nature), then Lloyd and I went down to live in Haggard's
rooms, where Fanny presently joined us. Haggard's rooms are
in a strange old building - old for Samoa, and has the effect
of the antique like some strange monastery; I would tell you
more of it, but I think I'm going to use it in a tale. The
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg by Mark Twain: in a half-frightened, half-glad way -
"He is gone! But, oh dear, he may be too late--too late . . . Maybe
not--maybe there is still time." She rose and stood thinking,
nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. A slight shudder shook
her frame, and she said, out of a dry throat, "God forgive me--it's
awful to think such things--but . . . Lord, how we are made--how
strangely we are made!"
She turned the light low, and slipped stealthily over and knelt down
by the sack and felt of its ridgy sides with her hands, and fondled
them lovingly; and there was a gloating light in her poor old eyes.
She fell into fits of absence; and came half out of them at times to
The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Blue Flower by Henry van Dyke: been waiting, saddled and bridled, in her stall, pawing the
ground impatiently, and shaking her bit as if she shared the
eagerness of her master's purpose, though she knew not its
meaning.
Before the birds had fully roused to their strong, high,
joyful chant of morning song, before the white mist had begun
to lift lazily from the plain, the Other Wise Man was in the
saddle, riding swiftly along the high-road, which skirted the
base of Mount Orontes, westward.
How close, how intimate is the comradeship between a man
and his favourite horse on a long journey. It is a silent,
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