| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Crito by Plato: SOCRATES: And it is true; but still I find with surprise that the old
argument is unshaken as ever. And I should like to know whether I may say
the same of another proposition--that not life, but a good life, is to be
chiefly valued?
CRITO: Yes, that also remains unshaken.
SOCRATES: And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one--that
holds also?
CRITO: Yes, it does.
SOCRATES: From these premisses I proceed to argue the question whether I
ought or ought not to try and escape without the consent of the Athenians:
and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Case of the Registered Letter by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: childhood. For I am an honest man, beloved, and I always have been.
One day I sat at table beside the man - the Judge who condemned me,
here in G- in those terrible days. He naturally did not know me
again. I, myself, brought the conversation around to a professional
subject. I asked him if it were not possible that circumstantial
evidence could lie; if the entire past, the reputation of the
accused would not be a factor in his favour. The Judge denied it.
It was his opinion, beyond a doubt, that circumstantial evidence was
sufficient to convict anyone.
My soul rose within me. This infallibility, this legal arrogance,
aroused my blood. "That man should have a lesson!" I said to
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Wrecker by Stevenson & Osbourne: east wind (which I thought too harsh for the old man)
continually shook the boughs, and the thin sun of a Scottish
summer drew their dancing shadows.
"I wanted ye to see the place," said he. "Yon's the stane.
Euphemia Ross: that was my goodwife, your grandmither
--hoots! I'm wrong; that was my first yin; I had no bairns by
her;--yours is the second, Mary Murray, Born 1819, Died 1850:
that's her--a fine, plain, decent sort of a creature, tak' her
athegether. Alexander Loudon, Born Seventeen Ninety-Twa,
Died--and then a hole in the ballant: that's me. Alexander's
my name. They ca'd me Ecky when I was a boy. Eh, Ecky!
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