|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tour Through Eastern Counties of England by Daniel Defoe:
pushing on in hopes to keep out to sea, and weather it, were by the
violence of the storm driven back, when they were too far embayed
to weather Wintertonness as above, and so were forced to run west,
everyone shifting for themselves as well as they could; some run
away for Lynn Deeps, but few of them (the night being so dark)
could find their way in there; some, but very few, rode it out at a
distance; the rest, being above 140 sail, were all driven on shore
and dashed to pieces, and very few of the people on board were
saved: at the very same unhappy juncture, a fleet of laden ships
were coming from the north, and being just crossing the same bay,
were forcibly driven into it, not able to weather the Ness, and so
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Stories From the Old Attic by Robert Harris:
* Perseverance and ingenuity, even in the face of humiliation and
defeat, will at last succeed.
[Suggested by Aesop, "The Eagle and Arrow"]
Three Flat Tires
Once in the fullness and complexity of human existence three cars
left the same party one rainy night and took three different roads
on the way home. Oddly enough, at approximately the same time, each
car suffered a flat tire, and the young couples inside suddenly
found their evening and their lives somewhat different from what
they had been expecting.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Protagoras by Plato:
he will learn that which he comes to learn. And this is prudence in
affairs private as well as public; he will learn to order his own house in
the best manner, and he will be able to speak and act for the best in the
affairs of the state.
Do I understand you, I said; and is your meaning that you teach the art of
politics, and that you promise to make men good citizens?
That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I make.
Then, I said, you do indeed possess a noble art, if there is no mistake
about this; for I will freely confess to you, Protagoras, that I have a
doubt whether this art is capable of being taught, and yet I know not how
to disbelieve your assertion. And I ought to tell you why I am of opinion