The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed hi
brother.
"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?"
"I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap.
The hard lines, the sullen shade the hawk-beak cruelty had returned
tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame.
"New foreman!" exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in
amazement. "No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!"
"That's what I said," growled Snap.
"You're a liar!" shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on
his cheeks. He jumped off the ground m his fury.
The Heritage of the Desert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving: time topsy-turvy!
But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly
cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a
ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no
spectre dared to show its face, it was dearly purchased by the
terrors of his subsequent walk homewards. What fearful shapes and
shadows beset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a
snowy night! With what wistful look did he eye every trembling
ray of light streaming across the waste fields from some distant
window! How often was he appalled by some shrub covered with
snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, beset his very path! How
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson: kettle-holder in Berlin wool, and an odd garter of knitting, which
was as black as the chimney before I had done with it. He loved
port, and nuts, and porter; and so do I, but they agreed better
with my grandfather, which seems to me a breach of contract. He
had chalk-stones in his fingers; and these, in good time, I may
possibly inherit, but I would much rather have inherited his noble
presence. Try as I please, I cannot join myself on with the
reverend doctor; and all the while, no doubt, and even as I write
the phrase, he moves in my blood, and whispers words to me, and
sits efficient in the very knot and centre of my being. In his
garden, as I played there, I learned the love of mills - or had I
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