| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey: brush appeared on each side of the road. Gradually Carley's strain relaxed,
and also the muscular contraction by which she had braced herself in the
seat. The horses began to trot again. The wheels rattled. The road wound
around abrupt corners, and soon the green and red wall of the opposite side
of the canyon loomed close. Low roar of running water rose to Carley's
ears. When at length she looked out instead of down she could see nothing
but a mass of green foliage crossed by tree trunks and branches of brown
and gray. Then the vehicle bowled under dark cool shade, into a tunnel with
mossy wet cliff on one side, and close-standing trees on the other,
"Reckon we're all right now, onless we meet somebody comin' up," declared
the driver.
The Call of the Canyon |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad: bear the thought of abandoning me to my cheerless solitude. It
is incomprehensible how it was that she was allowed to start. I
suppose it had to be! She made light of the cough which came on
next day, but shortly afterward inflammation of the lungs set in,
and in three weeks she was no more! She was the first to be
taken away of the young generation under my care. Behold the
vanity of all hopes and fears! I was the most frail at birth of
all the children. For years I remained so delicate that my
parents had but little hope of bringing me up; and yet I have
survived five brothers and two sisters, and many of my
contemporaries; I have outlived my wife and daughter, too--and
A Personal Record |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Historical Mystery by Honore de Balzac: in little things, had ended by admiring her whom they had known and
treated as a child,--a sufficiently rare feeling. But in her manner,
her deep voice, her commanding eye, Laurence held that inexplicable
power which rules all men,--even when its strength is mere appearance.
To vulgar minds real depth is incomprehensible; it is perhaps for that
reason that the populace is so prone to admire what it cannot
understand. Monsieur and Madame d'Hauteserre, impressed by the
habitual silence and erratic habits of the young girl, were constantly
expecting some extraordinary thing of her.
Laurence, who did good intelligently and never allowed herself to be
deceived, was held in the utmost respect by the peasantry although she
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