| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The $30,000 Bequest and Other Stories by Mark Twain: The same haunting thought was in all minds there: the pity of
this death, the going out into the great darkness, and the mother
not here to help and hearten and bless.
Helen stirred; her hands began to grope wistfully about as if they
sought something--she had been blind some hours. The end was come;
all knew it. With a great sob Hester gathered her to her breast,
crying, "Oh, my child, my darling!" A rapturous light broke in the
dying girl's face, for it was mercifully vouchsafed her to mistake
those sheltering arms for another's; and she went to her rest murmuring,
"Oh, mamma, I am so happy--I longed for you--now I can die."
Two hours later Hester made her report. The mother asked:
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: overhung the gilding of their fluted edges. I delighted in these
quaint old things. I thought the Reveillon paper with its flowery
garlands beautiful. The sweet content that filled my sails hindered me
from perceiving the obstacles which a life so uniform, so unvarying in
solitude of the country placed between her and me. I was near her,
sitting at her right hand, serving her with wine. Yes, unhoped-for
joy! I touched her dress, I ate her bread. At the end of three hours
my life had mingled with her life! That terrible kiss had bound us to
each other in a secret which inspired us with mutual shame. A glorious
self-abasement took possession of me. I studied to please the count, I
fondled the dogs, I would gladly have gratified every desire of the
The Lily of the Valley |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from My Antonia by Willa Cather: `Tell us, Mr. Burden,' said Charley, `about the rattler you killed
at the dog-town. How long was he? Sometimes mother says six feet
and sometimes she says five.'
These children seemed to be upon very much the same terms with
Antonia as the Harling children had been so many years before.
They seemed to feel the same pride in her, and to look to her
for stories and entertainment as we used to do.
It was eleven o'clock when I at last took my bag and some blankets
and started for the barn with the boys. Their mother came to the door
with us, and we tarried for a moment to look out at the white
slope of the corral and the two ponds asleep in the moonlight,
My Antonia |
