| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Statesman by Plato: classification; there is nothing in which he takes greater delight than in
processes of division (compare Phaedr.); he pursues them to a length out of
proportion to his main subject, and appears to value them as a dialectical
exercise, and for their own sake. A poetical vision of some order or
hierarchy of ideas or sciences has already been floating before us in the
Symposium and the Republic. And in the Phaedrus this aspect of dialectic
is further sketched out, and the art of rhetoric is based on the division
of the characters of mankind into their several classes. The same love of
divisions is apparent in the Gorgias. But in a well-known passage of the
Philebus occurs the first criticism on the nature of classification. There
we are exhorted not to fall into the common error of passing from unity to
Statesman |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Redheaded Outfield by Zane Grey: The next three innings, as far as scoring was
concerned, were all for Buffalo. But the Worcester
infield played magnificent ball, holding their
opponents to one run each inning.
That made the score 4 to 2 in favor of Buffalo.
In the last half of the sixth, with Ash on first
base and two men out, old Spears hit another of
his lofty flies, and this one went over the fence
and tied the score. How the bleachers roared!
It was full two minutes before they quieted down.
To make it all the more exciting, Bogart hit
The Redheaded Outfield |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Little Rivers by Henry van Dyke: disappointment. The shooting party kept the table abundantly
supplied with grouse and hares and highland venison; and there was
a piper to march up and down before the window and play while we
ate dinner--a very complimentary and disquieting performance. But
there are many occasions in life when pride can be entertained only
at the expense of comfort.
Of course Sandy was my gillie. It was a fine sight to see him
exhibiting the tiny American trout-rod, tied with silk ribbons in
its delicate case, to the other gillies and exulting over them.
Every morning he would lead me away through the heather to some
lonely loch on the shoulders of the hills, from which we could look
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