| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Chessmen of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs: must protect me from greater dishonor, for I am but as clay in
your hands."
Again he crushed her to him and then as suddenly released her,
and rising, strode rapidly to and fro across the chamber as
though he endeavored by violent exercise to master and subdue
some evil spirit that had laid hold upon him. Ringing through his
brain and heart and soul like some joyous paean were those words
that had so altered the world for Gahan of Gathol: "I love you,
Turan; I love you so!" And it had come so suddenly. He had
thought that she felt for him only gratitude for his loyalty and
then, in an instant, her barriers were all down, she was no
The Chessmen of Mars |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen: She was looked at, however, and with some admiration;
for, in her own hearing, two gentlemen pronounced her
to be a pretty girl. Such words had their due effect;
she immediately thought the evening pleasanter than she
had found it before--her humble vanity was contented--she
felt more obliged to the two young men for this simple
praise than a true-quality heroine would have been
for fifteen sonnets in celebration of her charms,
and went to her chair in good humour with everybody,
and perfectly satisfied with her share of public attention.
CHAPTER 3
Northanger Abbey |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar: away from a pinched, pitiful face, whose dull cold eyes hurt you,
because you knew they were trying to mirror sorrow, and could not
because of their expressionless quality. No matter what the
weather or what her other toilet, she always wore a thin little
shawl of dingy brick-dust hue about her shoulders. No matter
what the occasion or what the day, she always carried her
knitting with her, and seldom ceased the incessant twist, twist
of the shining steel among the white cotton meshes. She might
put down the needles and lace into the spool-box long enough to
open oysters, or wrap up fruit and candy, or count out wood and
coal into infinitesimal portions, or do her housework; but the
The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories |
