| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Pocket Diary Found in the Snow by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: single blond hair which had been in one of the bread seals.
"How I was murdered." Those were the words that Commissioner von
Mayringen read aloud after he had hastily turned the first few
pages of the notebook, and had come to a place where the writing
was heavily underscored.
The commissioner and Amster were much astonished at these words, but
the detective still gazed quietly at the seals of the wrapping.
"This heading reads like insanity, said the commissioner. Muller
shrugged his shoulders, then turned to Amster. "Where did you find
the package?"
In Garden street."
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alcibiades I by Plato: difficulty in replying that you meant 'more wholesome,' although you do not
profess to be a physician: and when the subject is one of which you
profess to have knowledge, and about which you are ready to get up and
advise as if you knew, are you not ashamed, when you are asked, not to be
able to answer the question? Is it not disgraceful?
ALCIBIADES: Very.
SOCRATES: Well, then, consider and try to explain what is the meaning of
'better,' in the matter of making peace and going to war with those against
whom you ought to go to war? To what does the word refer?
ALCIBIADES: I am thinking, and I cannot tell.
SOCRATES: But you surely know what are the charges which we bring against
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Songs of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: to as the author's muse has confined herself to stringing into rhyme
facts or legends that I saw or heard during two months' residence
upon the island. - R. L. S.]
ENVOI
Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards;
And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine,
Our now division duly solemnise.
Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one:
The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate!
You to the blinding palace-yard shall call
The prefect of the singers, and to him,
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