| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Dream Life and Real Life by Olive Schreiner: is nothing of them left in the box now, but a faint, strong smell of dried
acacia, that recalls that sultry summer afternoon; but the rose is in the
box still.
It is many years ago now; I was a girl of fifteen, and I went to visit in a
small up-country town. It was young in those days, and two days' journey
from the nearest village; the population consisted mainly of men. A few
were married, and had their wives and children, but most were single.
There was only one young girl there when I came. She was about seventeen,
fair, and rather fully-fleshed; she had large dreamy blue eyes, and wavy
light hair; full, rather heavy lips, until she smiled; then her face broke
into dimples, and all her white teeth shone. The hotel-keeper may have had
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Crito by Plato: undertakes the defence of his friend and master in this particular, not to
the Athenians of his day, but to posterity and the world at large.
Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit of Crito and the
proposal of escape is uncertain: Plato could easily have invented far more
than that (Phaedr.); and in the selection of Crito, the aged friend, as the
fittest person to make the proposal to Socrates, we seem to recognize the
hand of the artist. Whether any one who has been subjected by the laws of
his country to an unjust judgment is right in attempting to escape, is a
thesis about which casuists might disagree. Shelley (Prose Works) is of
opinion that Socrates 'did well to die,' but not for the 'sophistical'
reasons which Plato has put into his mouth. And there would be no
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Chronicles of the Canongate by Walter Scott: November moonlight, at the rate of six miles an hour. And now
the distant lowing of Morrison's cattle is heard; and now they
are seen creeping like moles in size and slowness of motion on
the broad face of the moor; and now he meets them--passes them,
and stops their conductor.
"May good betide us," said the Westlander. "Is this you, Robin
M'Combich, or your wraith?"
"It is Robin Oig M'Combich," answered the Highlander, "and it is
not. But never mind that, put pe giving me the skene-dhu."
"What! you are for back to the Highlands! The devil! Have you
selt all off before the fair? This beats all for quick markets!"
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