| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Charmides by Plato: and when I have enquired, I will say whether I agree with you or not.
Please then to allow me time to reflect.
Reflect, he said.
I am reflecting, I replied, and discover that temperance, or wisdom, if
implying a knowledge of anything, must be a science, and a science of
something.
Yes, he said; the science of itself.
Is not medicine, I said, the science of health?
True.
And suppose, I said, that I were asked by you what is the use or effect of
medicine, which is this science of health, I should answer that medicine is
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Desert Gold by Zane Grey: down the arroyo, in the deepening red twilight, when the heat
rolled away on slow-dying wind, Blanco Sol raised his splendid
head and whistled for his master. Gale reproached himself for
neglect of the noble horse. Blanco Sol was always the same. He
loved four things--his master, a long drink of cool water, to graze
at will, and to run. Time and place, Gale thought, meant little
to Sol if he could have those four things. Gale put his arm over
the great arched neck and laid his cheek against the long white
mane, and then even as he stood there forgot the horse. What was
the dull, red-tinged, horizon-wide mantle creeping up the slope?
Through it the copper sun glowed, paled, died. Was it only twilight?
Desert Gold |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Aeneid by Virgil: Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs:
Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain;
Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train;
All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.
What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,
When, from the tow'r, she saw the cover'd shore,
And heard the shouts of sailors from afar,
Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war!
All-pow'rful Love! what changes canst thou cause
In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!
Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:
Aeneid |
