| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence: out ochre yellow leaves: in the garden the red daisies were like red
plush buttons. She glanced at the big, hollow sandstone slab of the
threshold, now crossed by so few feet.
'But it's lovely here,' she said. 'Such a beautiful stillness,
everything alive and still.'
He was eating again, rather slowly and unwillingly, and she could feel
he was discouraged. She made the tea in silence, and set the tea-pot on
the hob, as she knew the people did. He pushed his plate aside and went
to the back place; she heard a latch click, then he came back with
cheese on a plate, and butter.
She set the two cups on the table; there were only two. 'Will you have
Lady Chatterley's Lover |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Case of the Golden Bullet by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: interesting person. He laid his thin, nervous hand on the carriage
door.
"We are not there yet," said the commissioner.
"No, but it's the third house from here," replied Muller.
"You know where everybody lives, don't you?" smiled Horn.
"Nearly everybody," answered Muller gently, as the cab stopped
before an attractive little villa surrounded by its own garden,
as were most of the houses in this quiet, aristocratic part of
the town.
The house was two stories high, but the upper windows were closed
and tightly curtained. This upper story was the apartment occupied
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Meno by Plato: mentioned systems, the history of the human mind and the nature of language
are almost wholly ignored, and the certainty of objective knowledge is
transferred to the subject; while absolute truth is reduced to a figment,
more abstract and narrow than Plato's ideas, of 'thing in itself,' to
which, if we reason strictly, no predicate can be applied.
The question which Plato has raised respecting the origin and nature of
ideas belongs to the infancy of philosophy; in modern times it would no
longer be asked. Their origin is only their history, so far as we know it;
there can be no other. We may trace them in language, in philosophy, in
mythology, in poetry, but we cannot argue a priori about them. We may
attempt to shake them off, but they are always returning, and in every
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