| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Scenes from a Courtesan's Life by Honore de Balzac: and the waiter examined the coin with a minute care that was not
flattering to Contenson; but their suspicions were justified by the
astonishment produced on all the regular customers by Contenson's
appearance.
"Was that gold got by theft or by murder?"
This was the idea that rose to some clear and shrewd minds as they
looked at Contenson over their spectacles, while affecting to read the
news. Contenson, who saw everything and never was surprised at
anything, scornfully wiped his lips with a bandana, in which there
were but three darns, took his change, slipped all the coppers into
his side pocket, of which the lining, once white, was now as black as
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Art of Writing by Robert Louis Stevenson: successive phrases. The pleasure may be heightened by an
element of surprise, as, very grossly, in the common figure
of the antithesis, or, with much greater subtlety, where an
antithesis is first suggested and then deftly evaded. Each
phrase, besides, is to be comely in itself; and between the
implication and the evolution of the sentence there should be
a satisfying equipoise of sound; for nothing more often
disappoints the ear than a sentence solemnly and sonorously
prepared, and hastily and weakly finished. Nor should the
balance be too striking and exact, for the one rule is to be
infinitely various; to interest, to disappoint, to surprise,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Desert Gold by Zane Grey: he saw a cloud that resembled her face. A cloud on the desert horizon!
He gazed and gazed. Was that a spirit face like the one by his
side? No--he did not dream.
In the hot, sultry morning Yaqui appeared at camp, after long hours
of absence, and he pointed with a long, dark arm toward the west.
A bank of clouds was rising above the mountain barrier.
"Rain!" he cried; and his sonorous voice rolled down the arroyo.
Those who heard him were as shipwrecked mariners at sight of a
distant sail.
Dick Gale, silent, grateful to the depths of his soul, stood with
arm over Blanco Sol and watched the transforming west, where
Desert Gold |
