| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Cratylus by Plato: Cratylus, the Heracleitean philosopher, and Hermogenes, the brother of
Callias, have been arguing about names; the former maintaining that they
are natural, the latter that they are conventional. Cratylus affirms that
his own is a true name, but will not allow that the name of Hermogenes is
equally true. Hermogenes asks Socrates to explain to him what Cratylus
means; or, far rather, he would like to know, What Socrates himself thinks
about the truth or correctness of names? Socrates replies, that hard is
knowledge, and the nature of names is a considerable part of knowledge: he
has never been to hear the fifty-drachma course of Prodicus; and having
only attended the single-drachma course, he is not competent to give an
opinion on such matters. When Cratylus denies that Hermogenes is a true
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Bunner Sisters by Edith Wharton: the window, shaken only by the hard incessant cough that sounded to
Ann Eliza like the hammering of nails into a coffin.
At length one morning Ann Eliza, starting up from the mattress
at the foot of the bed, hastily called Miss Mellins down, and ran
through the smoky dawn for the doctor. He came back with her and
did what he could to give Evelina momentary relief; then he went
away, promising to look in again before night. Miss Mellins, her
head still covered with curl-papers, disappeared in his wake, and
when the sisters were alone Evelina beckoned to Ann Eliza.
"You promised," she whispered, grasping her sister's arm; and
Ann Eliza understood. She had not yet dared to tell Miss Mellins
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Under the Red Robe by Stanley Weyman: woman wholly womanly. She walked with dignity, but beside
Madame's stately figure she had an air almost childish. And it
was characteristic of the two that Mademoiselle as they drew near
to me regarded me with sorrowful attention, Madame with a grave
smile.
I bowed low. They returned the salute. 'This is my sister,'
Madame de Cocheforet said, with a very slight air of
condescension, 'Will you please to tell me your name, Monsieur?'
'I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy,' I said, taking on
impulse the name of my mother. My own, by a possibility, might
be known.
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