| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe: dictates even naturally how to make use of it, so I, that had never
milked a cow, much less a goat, or seen butter or cheese made only
when I was a boy, after a great many essays and miscarriages, made
both butter and cheese at last, also salt (though I found it partly
made to my hand by the heat of the sun upon some of the rocks of
the sea), and never wanted it afterwards. How mercifully can our
Creator treat His creatures, even in those conditions in which they
seemed to be overwhelmed in destruction! How can He sweeten the
bitterest providences, and give us cause to praise Him for dungeons
and prisons! What a table was here spread for me in the
wilderness, where I saw nothing at first but to perish for hunger!
Robinson Crusoe |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Phaedrus by Plato: this occupied him during the whole morning;--and then when he was tired
with sitting, he went out to take a walk, not until, by the dog, as I
believe, he had simply learned by heart the entire discourse, unless it was
unusually long, and he went to a place outside the wall that he might
practise his lesson. There he saw a certain lover of discourse who had a
similar weakness;--he saw and rejoiced; now thought he, 'I shall have a
partner in my revels.' And he invited him to come and walk with him. But
when the lover of discourse begged that he would repeat the tale, he gave
himself airs and said, 'No I cannot,' as if he were indisposed; although,
if the hearer had refused, he would sooner or later have been compelled by
him to listen whether he would or no. Therefore, Phaedrus, bid him do at
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The American by Henry James: your chance!" cried Newman.
"I would gladly give it you, sir. I have passed some weary hours
in my lady's dressing-room; but this will be one of the longest.
She will tax me with ingratitude."
"Well," said Newman, "so long as you can tax her with murder--"
"Oh, sir, I can't; not I," sighed Mrs. Bread.
"You don't mean to say anything about it? So much the better.
Leave that to me."
"If she calls me a thankless old woman," said Mrs. Bread,
"I shall have nothing to say. But it is better so,"
she softly added. "She shall be my lady to the last.
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