| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ion by Plato: man will judge of his own particular art better than the rhapsode. He
still maintains, however, that he understands the art of the general as
well as any one. 'Then why in this city of Athens, in which men of merit
are always being sought after, is he not at once appointed a general?' Ion
replies that he is a foreigner, and the Athenians and Spartans will not
appoint a foreigner to be their general. 'No, that is not the real reason;
there are many examples to the contrary. But Ion has long been playing
tricks with the argument; like Proteus, he transforms himself into a
variety of shapes, and is at last about to run away in the disguise of a
general. Would he rather be regarded as inspired or dishonest?' Ion, who
has no suspicion of the irony of Socrates, eagerly embraces the alternative
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Burning Daylight by Jack London: clean."
"By Gar! Ah take dat!" French Louis rumbled above the cheers.
"Hold on!" Olaf Henderson cried. "I ban yust as good as you,
Louis. I yump half that bet."
Put on the scales, Daylight's sack was found to balance an even
four hundred dollars, and Louis and Olaf divided the bet between
them. Fifty-pound sacks of flour were brought in from
MacDonald's cache. Other men tested their strength first. They
straddled on two chairs, the flour sacks beneath them on the
floor and held together by rope-lashings. Many of the men were
able, in this manner, to lift four or five hundred pounds, while
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Riverman by Stewart Edward White: a growing feeling of disappointment that Carroll should happen to be
from home. Finally a door opened and shut in the back part of the
house. A moment later Mary, the Irish servant girl, came through
the dining-room, caught sight of Orde, threw her apron over her
head, and burst into one of those extravagant demonstrations of
grief peculiar to the warm-hearted of her class.
Orde stopped short, a sinking at his heart.
"What is it, Mary?" he asked very quietly.
But the girl only wept the louder, rocking back and forth in a fresh
paroxysm of grief. Beside himself with anxiety Orde sprang forward
to shake her by the arm, to shower her with questions. These
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