| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the bitterness of misplaced
trust.
"Heap damn lie!" he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the
gloom.
Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for
Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought
them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of
joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal.
The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet more
and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn of
cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they
The Heritage of the Desert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin by Robert Louis Stevenson: cabin; but to my astonishment he did not care much for it; he said
it smelt of the shilling railway library; perhaps I had praised it
too highly. Scott is his standard for novels. I am very happy to
find good taste by no means confined to gentlemen, H- having no
pretensions to that title. He is a man after my own heart.
'Then I came down to the cabin and heard young A-'s schemes for the
future. His highest picture is a commission in the Prince of
Vizianagram's irregular horse. His eldest brother is tutor to his
Highness's children, and grand vizier, and magistrate, and on his
Highness's household staff, and seems to be one of those Scotch
adventurers one meets with and hears of in queer berths - raising
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Under the Andes by Rex Stout: corner of the boulder and saw that the spears again found their
mark.
"Come," I whispered, and began to pick my way toward the
ledge.
Harry followed close at my heels. It was easier here, and we
soon found ourselves close to the shore of the lake, with a smooth
stretch of rock between us and the fisherman's landing-place. The
urns, whose light was quite sufficient here, were about fifty feet
to the right and rear.
The Incas had made their kill and were paddling for the shore.
As they came near, Harry and I sank back against the boulder, which
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