|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Eryxias by Platonic Imitator:
appear that you only pray to be taught what you do not know.
Hereupon I said to Prodicus that it was no misfortune to him if he had been
proved to be in error in supposing that the Gods immediately granted to us
whatever we asked:--if, I added, whenever you go up to the Acropolis you
earnestly entreat the Gods to grant you good things, although you know not
whether they can yield your request, it is as though you went to the doors
of the grammarian and begged him, although you had never made a study of
the art, to give you a knowledge of grammar which would enable you
forthwith to do the business of a grammarian.
While I was speaking, Prodicus was preparing to retaliate upon his youthful
assailant, intending to employ the argument of which you have just made
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Call of the Wild by Jack London:
travelling. Nothing was too great for Buck to do, when Thornton
commanded. One day (they had grub-staked themselves from the
proceeds of the raft and left Dawson for the head-waters of the
Tanana) the men and dogs were sitting on the crest of a cliff
which fell away, straight down, to naked bed-rock three hundred
feet below. John Thornton was sitting near the edge, Buck at his
shoulder. A thoughtless whim seized Thornton, and he drew the
attention of Hans and Pete to the experiment he had in mind.
"Jump, Buck!" he commanded, sweeping his arm out and over the
chasm. The next instant he was grappling with Buck on the extreme
edge, while Hans and Pete were dragging them back into safety.
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe:
who was sporting, like some tropical butterfly, hither and thither
over the floor, she showed a depth of firmness and steady resolve
that was never there in her earlier and happier days.
By her side sat a woman with a bright tin pan in her lap, into
which she was carefully sorting some dried peaches. She might
be fifty-five or sixty; but hers was one of those faces that time
seems to touch only to brighten and adorn. The snowy fisse crape
cap, made after the strait Quaker pattern,--the plain white muslin
handkerchief, lying in placid folds across her bosom,--the drab
shawl and dress,--showed at once the community to which she belonged.
Her face was round and rosy, with a healthful downy softness,
Uncle Tom's Cabin