|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Symposium by Plato:
am in bodily fear of his mad and passionate attempts.
There can never be reconciliation between you and me, said Alcibiades; but
for the present I will defer your chastisement. And I must beg you,
Agathon, to give me back some of the ribands that I may crown the
marvellous head of this universal despot--I would not have him complain of
me for crowning you, and neglecting him, who in conversation is the
conqueror of all mankind; and this not only once, as you were the day
before yesterday, but always. Whereupon, taking some of the ribands, he
crowned Socrates, and again reclined.
Then he said: You seem, my friends, to be sober, which is a thing not to
be endured; you must drink--for that was the agreement under which I was
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Anthem by Ayn Rand:
is Liberty 5-3000, and we think of no others.
The women who have been assigned to work
the soil live in the Homes of the Peasants
beyond the City. Where the City ends
there is a great road winding off to the
north, and we Street Sweepers must keep
this road clean to the first milepost.
There is a hedge along the road, and beyond the
hedge lie the fields. The fields are black
and ploughed, and they lie like a great
fan before us, with their furrows gathered
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad:
Diplomatic Service, but had turned to growing wheat on paternal
acres, and we had not seen each other for over twenty years) was
sitting on the hotel sofa waiting to carry me off there.
"You might tell me something of your life while you are
dressing," he suggested, kindly.
I do not think I told him much of my life story either then or
later. The talk of the select little party with which he made me
dine was extremely animated and embraced most subjects under
heaven, from big-game shooting in Africa to the last poem
published in a very modernist review, edited by the very young
and patronized by the highest society. But it never touched upon
A Personal Record