| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Lesser Hippias by Plato: who is unintentionally dishonest should be pardoned.
EUDICUS: Yes, Hippias, do as he says; and for our sake, and also that you
may not belie your profession, answer whatever Socrates asks you.
HIPPIAS: I will answer, as you request me; and do you ask whatever you
like.
SOCRATES: I am very desirous, Hippias, of examining this question, as to
which are the better--those who err voluntarily or involuntarily? And if
you will answer me, I think that I can put you in the way of approaching
the subject: You would admit, would you not, that there are good runners?
HIPPIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And there are bad runners?
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Cousin Betty by Honore de Balzac: man, however, happened to be out, so Hortense was obliged to give her
orders to the maid, and the girl went upstairs to fetch her needlework
and sit in the ante-room.
"And about my lover?" said Cousin Betty to Hortense, when the girl
came back. "You never ask about him now?"
"To be sure, what is he doing?" said Hortense. "He has become famous.
You ought to be very happy," she added in an undertone to Lisbeth.
"Everybody is talking of Monsieur Wenceslas Steinbock."
"A great deal too much," replied she in her clear tones. "Monsieur is
departing.--If it were only a matter of charming him so far as to defy
the attractions of Paris, I know my power; but they say that in order
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Phantasmagoria and Other Poems by Lewis Carroll: Air, then a dozen bars of his own, then a few more notes of the
Air, and so on alternately: thus saving the listener, if not from
all risk of recognising the melody at all, at least from the too-
exciting transports which it might produce in a more concentrated
form. The process is termed "setting" by Composers, and any one,
that has ever experienced the emotion of being unexpectedly set
down in a heap of mortar, will recognise the truthfulness of this
happy phrase.
For truly, just as the genuine Epicure lingers lovingly over a
morsel of supreme Venison - whose every fibre seems to murmur
"Excelsior!" - yet swallows, ere returning to the toothsome dainty,
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