|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Statesman by Plato:
STRANGER: The science which has to do with military operations against our
enemies--is that to be regarded as a science or not?
YOUNG SOCRATES: How can generalship and military tactics be regarded as
other than a science?
STRANGER: And is the art which is able and knows how to advise when we are
to go to war, or to make peace, the same as this or different?
YOUNG SOCRATES: If we are to be consistent, we must say different.
STRANGER: And we must also suppose that this rules the other, if we are
not to give up our former notion?
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: And, considering how great and terrible the whole art of war is,
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov:
in a slave; day and night my brain is haunted by evil thoughts,
and feelings such as I never knew before are brooding in my soul.
I am full of hatred, and contempt, and indignation, and loathing,
and dread. I have become excessively severe, exacting, irritable,
ungracious, suspicious. Even things that in old days would have
provoked me only to an unnecessary jest and a good-natured laugh
now arouse an oppressive feeling in me. My reasoning, too, has
undergone a change: in old days I despised money; now I harbour
an evil feeling, not towards money, but towards the rich as
though they were to blame: in old days I hated violence and
tyranny, but now I hate the men who make use of violence, as
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar:
Suddenly a peremptory summons home from Annette's father put an
end to the fears of Philip. Annette pouted, but papa must be
obeyed. She blamed Philip and Aunt Nina for telling tales, but
Aunt Nina was uncommunicative, and Philip too obviously cheerful
to derive much satisfaction from.
That night she walked with the fisherman hand in hand on the
sands. The wind from the pines bore the scarcely recognisable,
subtle freshness of early autumn, and the waters had a hint of
dying summer in their sob on the beach.
"You will remember," said the fisherman, "that I have told you
nothing about myself."
The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories