| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Economist by Xenophon: to learn and cross-grained; but by watching labourers in the field, by
listening to what they say, you will have straightway knowledge enough
to teach another, should the humour take you. I imagine, Socrates (he
added), that you yourself, albeit quite unconscious of the fact,
already know a vast amount about the subject. The fact is, other
craftsmen (the race, I mean, in general of artists) are each and all
disposed to keep the most important[11] features of their several arts
concealed: with husbandry it is different. Here the man who has the
most skill in planting will take most pleasure in being watched by
others; and so too the most skilful sower. Ask any question you may
choose about results thus beautifully wrought, and not one feature in
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Phaedo by Plato: natural continuance of the soul, which, if not destroyed by her own proper
evil, can hardly be destroyed by any other. The soul of man in the Timaeus
is derived from the Supreme Creator, and either returns after death to her
kindred star, or descends into the lower life of an animal. The Apology
expresses the same view as the Phaedo, but with less confidence; there the
probability of death being a long sleep is not excluded. The Theaetetus
also describes, in a digression, the desire of the soul to fly away and be
with God--'and to fly to him is to be like him.' The Symposium may be
observed to resemble as well as to differ from the Phaedo. While the first
notion of immortality is only in the way of natural procreation or of
posthumous fame and glory, the higher revelation of beauty, like the good
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy: Thomasin said, turning up her pale, tearful face
to him, "It is killing me, this, Damon! I did not mean
to part from you in anger at Anglebury this morning;
but I was frightened and hardly knew what I said.
I've not let Aunt know how much I suffered today; and it
is so hard to command my face and voice, and to smile
as if it were a slight thing to me; but I try to do so,
that she may not be still more indignant with you.
I know you could not help it, dear, whatever Aunt
may think."
"She is very unpleasant."
Return of the Native |
