| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Cratylus by Plato: intelligible. Another says, 'No, not fire in the abstract, but the
abstraction of heat in the fire.' Another man professes to laugh at all
this, and says, as Anaxagoras says, that justice is mind, for mind, as they
say, has absolute power, and mixes with nothing, and orders all things, and
passes through all things. At last, my friend, I find myself in far
greater perplexity about the nature of justice than I was before I began to
learn. But still I am of opinion that the name, which has led me into this
digression, was given to justice for the reasons which I have mentioned.
HERMOGENES: I think, Socrates, that you are not improvising now; you must
have heard this from some one else.
SOCRATES: And not the rest?
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lord Arthur Savile's Crime, etc. by Oscar Wilde: 'Nothing interesting ever is,' said Lady Windermere: 'ON A FAIT LE
MONDE AINSI. But I must introduce you. Duchess, this is Mr.
Podgers, my pet cheiromantist. Mr. Podgers, this is the Duchess of
Paisley, and if you say that she has a larger mountain of the moon
than I have, I will never believe in you again.'
'I am sure, Gladys, there is nothing of the kind in my hand,' said
the Duchess gravely.
'Your Grace is quite right,' said Mr. Podgers, glancing at the
little fat hand with its short square fingers, 'the mountain of the
moon is not developed. The line of life, however, is excellent.
Kindly bend the wrist. Thank you. Three distinct lines on the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf: A fine rain now made her still more dismal; vans with the odd
names of those engaged in odd industries--Sprules, Manufacturer
of Saw-dust; Grabb, to whom no piece of waste paper comes amiss--
fell flat as a bad joke; bold lovers, sheltered behind one cloak,
seemed to her sordid, past their passion; the flower women,
a contented company, whose talk is always worth hearing, were sodden hags;
the red, yellow, and blue flowers, whose heads were pressed together,
would not blaze. Moreover, her husband walking with a quick
rhythmic stride, jerking his free hand occasionally, was either
a Viking or a stricken Nelson; the sea-gulls had changed his note.
"Ridley, shall we drive? Shall we drive, Ridley?"
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