| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: It was an impasse. She studied his face, the strong jaw set a
little now, the lips molded in sterner lines, and for all her
outward show of composure, she knew a sick dismay. And for a moment
she neither moved nor spoke. What he would do next, she did not
know; but she knew quite well that he had not the slightest
intention of leaving her here undisturbed to carry out her plan,
unless - unless, somehow, she could outwit him. She bit her lips
again. And then inspiration came. She turned, and with a sudden
leap gained the wall, and the next instant, holding him back with
her revolver as she reached up with her left hand, she caught at
the great metal shield with its encircling cluster of small arms,
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Octopus by Frank Norris: me--it will only be a great help to you. It will make you more
noble, a truer woman, more generous."
"I think I see," she answered, "and I never thought about it in
that light before."
"I want to help you," he answered, "as you have helped me. I
want to be your friend, and above all things I do not want to see
your life wasted. I am going away and it is quite possible I
shall never see you again, but you will always be a help to me."
"I do not understand," she answered, "but I know you mean to be
very, very kind to me. Yes, I hope when you come back--if you
ever do--you will still be that. I do not know why you should
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Heart of the West by O. Henry: a letter to Frau Hildesmuller from the little Lena at the quarries?
One came in the last mail to say that she is a little sick, already.
Her mamma is very anxious to hear again."
"Yes," said old man Ballinger, "thar's a letter for Mrs.
Helterskelter, or some sich name. Tommy Ryan brung it over when he
come. Her little gal workin' over thar, you say?"
"In the hotel," shouted Fritz, as he gathered up the lines; "eleven
years old and not bigger as a frankfurter. The close-fist of a Peter
Hildesmuller!--some day I shall with a big club pound that man's
dummkopf--all in and out the town. Perhaps in this letter Lena will
say that she is yet feeling better. So, her mamma will be glad. /Auf
Heart of the West |
