| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Padre Ignacio by Owen Wister: were--a man owes no fidelity before he is--but you might say that had
been dishonorable."
"I have not said so, my son."
"I did what every gentleman would do." insisted Gaston.
"And that is often wrong!" said the Padre, gently and gravely. "But I'm
not your confessor."
"No," said Gaston, looking down. "And it is all over. It will not begin
again. Since leaving New Orleans I have traveled an innocent journey
straight to you. And when I make my fortune I shall be in a position to
return and--"
"Claim the pressed flowrer?" suggested the Padre. He did not smile.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Land of Footprints by Stewart Edward White: however, we raised above the horizon a dark straight clump of
trees. It danced in the mirage, and blurred and changed form, but
it persisted. A strange patch of white kept appearing and
disappearing again. This resolved itself into the side of a
building. A spider-legged water tower appeared above the trees.
Gradually we drew up on these. A bit later we swung to the right
around a close wire fence ten feet high, passed through a gate,
and rode down a long slanting avenue of young trees. Between the
trees were century plants and flowers, and a clipped border ran
before them. The avenue ended before a low white bungalow, with
shady verandas all about it, and vines. A formal flower garden
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells: to me as I crawled into the other corner and squatted down.
I took it, and began gnawing it, as serenely as possible, in spite of a
certain trepidation and the nearly intolerable closeness of the den.
The little pink sloth-creature stood in the aperture of the hut,
and something else with a drab face and bright eyes came staring over
its shoulder.
"Hey!" came out of the lump of mystery opposite. "It is a man."
"It is a man," gabbled my conductor, "a man, a man, a five-man,
like me."
"Shut up!" said the voice from the dark, and grunted.
I gnawed my cocoa-nut amid an impressive stillness.
The Island of Doctor Moreau |
