|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Meno by Plato:
suffered good and evil, and received the reward or punishment of them until
their sin was purged away and they were allowed to return to earth. This
is a tradition of the olden time, to which priests and poets bear witness.
The souls of men returning to earth bring back a latent memory of ideas,
which were known to them in a former state. The recollection is awakened
into life and consciousness by the sight of the things which resemble them
on earth. The soul evidently possesses such innate ideas before she has
had time to acquire them. This is proved by an experiment tried on one of
Meno's slaves, from whom Socrates elicits truths of arithmetic and
geometry, which he had never learned in this world. He must therefore have
brought them with him from another.
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Memories and Portraits by Robert Louis Stevenson:
swore by the other lad; and yet each pair of parent and child were
perpetually by the ears. This is typical: it reads like the germ
of some kindly comedy.
The old appear in conversation in two characters: the critically
silent and the garrulous anecdotic. The last is perhaps what we
look for; it is perhaps the more instructive. An old gentleman,
well on in years, sits handsomely and naturally in the bow-window
of his age, scanning experience with reverted eye; and chirping and
smiling, communicates the accidents and reads the lesson of his
long career. Opinions are strengthened, indeed, but they are also
weeded out in the course of years. What remains steadily present
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In Darkest England and The Way Out by General William Booth:
can do nothing. Perhaps they ask the clergyman of the parish, who is
equally helpless, and there is nothing for them but for the father to
hang his head and the mother to cry her self to sleep--to long,
and wait, and pray for information that perhaps never comes, and to
fear the worst.
Now, our Enquiry Department supplies a remedy for this state of things.
In such a case application would simply have to be made to the nearest
Salvation Army Officer--probably in her own village, any way, in the
nearest town--who would instruct the parents to write to the Chief
Office in London, sending portraits and all particulars. Enquiries
would at once be set on foot, which would very possibly end in the
In Darkest England and The Way Out