| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll: to pull it back with all his strength, he let it advance upon the
scared boy: my Lady, with admirable presence of mind, kept up what she
no doubt intended for a savage growl, though it was more like the
purring of a cat: and Uggug backed out of the room with such haste that
he tripped over the mat, and was heard to fall heavily outside--
an accident to which even his doting mother paid no heed, in the
excitement of the moment.
The Vice-Warden shut and bolted the door. "Off with the disguises!"
he panted. "There's not a moment to lose. He's sure to fetch the
Professor, and we couldn't take him in, you know!" And in another
minute the disguises were stowed away in the cupboard, the door
Sylvie and Bruno |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Emma by Jane Austen: where the waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief
they give. In my Bath life, I have seen such instances of it!
And it is so cheerful a place, that it could not fail of being of
use to Mr. Woodhouse's spirits, which, I understand, are sometimes
much depressed. And as to its recommendations to you, I fancy I
need not take much pains to dwell on them. The advantages of Bath
to the young are pretty generally understood. It would be a charming
introduction for you, who have lived so secluded a life; and I could
immediately secure you some of the best society in the place.
A line from me would bring you a little host of acquaintance; and my
particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have always resided
Emma |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lesser Hippias by Plato: now I cannot agree in what you are saying, but I strongly disagree. Well,
I know that this is my own fault, and is a defect in my character, but I
will not pretend to be more than I am; and my opinion, Hippias, is the very
contrary of what you are saying. For I maintain that those who hurt or
injure mankind, and speak falsely and deceive, and err voluntarily, are
better far than those who do wrong involuntarily. Sometimes, however, I am
of the opposite opinion; for I am all abroad in my ideas about this matter,
a condition obviously occasioned by ignorance. And just now I happen to be
in a crisis of my disorder at which those who err voluntarily appear to me
better than those who err involuntarily. My present state of mind is due
to our previous argument, which inclines me to believe that in general
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