|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Eryxias by Platonic Imitator:
the service of the body the things of which we now stand in need, and heat
and cold and the other bodily sensations were unperceived by us, there
would be no use in this so-called wealth, if no one, that is, had any
necessity for those things which now make us wish for wealth in order that
we may satisfy the desires and needs of the body in respect of our various
wants. And therefore if the possession of wealth is useful in ministering
to our bodily wants, and bodily wants were unknown to us, we should not
need wealth, and possibly there would be no such thing as wealth.
ERYXIAS: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Then our conclusion is, as would appear, that wealth is what is
useful to this end?
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey:
leaped into the midst of the astounded Indians.
Rising from the floor like the rebound of a rubber ball, his long arm with the
glittering hatchet made a wide sweep, and the young braves scattered like
He made a dash for the door and, incredible as it may seem, his movements were
so quick he would have escaped from their very midst without a scratch but for
one unforeseen circumstance. The clay floor was wet and slippery; his feet
were hardly in motion before they slipped from under him and he fell headlong.
With loud yells of triumph the band jumped upon him. There was a convulsive,
heaving motion of the struggling mass, one frightful cry of agony, and then
hoarse commands. Three of the braves ran to their packs, from which they took
The Spirit of the Border
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Voice of the City by O. Henry:
Mike his Maggie, then only is spring arrived and the
newspaper report of the five-foot rattler killed in
Squire Pettigrew's pasture confirmed.
Ere the first violet blew, Mr. Peters, Mr. Ragsdale
and Mr. Kidd sat together on a bench in Union
Square and conspired. Mr. Peters was the D'Artag-
nan of the loafers there. He was the dingiest, the
laziest, the sorriest brown blot against the green back-
ground of any bench in the park. But just then he
was the most important of the trio.
Mr. Peters had a wife. This had not heretofore
The Voice of the City