| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Death of the Lion by Henry James: and the confusion of tongues of a valet de place. She contrives to
commit herself extraordinarily little in a great many languages,
and is entertained and conversed with in detachments and relays,
like an institution which goes on from generation to generation or
a big building contracted for under a forfeit. She can't have a
personal taste any more than, when her husband succeeds, she can
have a personal crown, and her opinion on any matter is rusty and
heavy and plain - made, in the night of ages, to last and be
transmitted. I feel as if I ought to 'tip' some custode for my
glimpse of it. She has been told everything in the world and has
never perceived anything, and the echoes of her education respond
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Crito by Plato: education; thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he will
duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our
commands are unjust; and we do not rudely impose them, but give him the
alternative of obeying or convincing us;--that is what we offer, and he
does neither.
'These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you,
Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all
other Athenians.' Suppose now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? they
will justly retort upon me that I above all other men have acknowledged the
agreement. 'There is clear proof,' they will say, 'Socrates, that we and
the city were not displeasing to you. Of all Athenians you have been the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Dunwich Horror by H. P. Lovecraft: bringing his dinner, found him in a half-comatose state; but he
was conscious enough to warn her off with a sharp cry when he
saw her eyes wander toward the notes he had taken. Weakly rising,
he gathered up the scribbled papers and sealed them all in a great
envelope, which he immediately placed in his inside coat pocket.
He had sufficient strength to get home, but was so clearly in
need of medical aid that Dr Hartwell was summoned at once. As
the doctor put him to bed he could only mutter over and over again,
'But what, in God's name, can we do?'
Dr Armitage slept, but
was partly delirious the next day. He made no explanations to
The Dunwich Horror |
