| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Aspern Papers by Henry James: even I think of great captains."
"I suppose you know you can sell them--those you don't use,"
Miss Bordereau went on. "I daresay they wouldn't give you
much for them; still, you could make a bargain."
"Oh, I have never made a bargain, as you ought to know.
My gardener disposes of them and I ask no questions."
"I would ask a few, I can promise you!" said Miss Bordereau;
and it was the first time I had heard her laugh.
I could not get used to the idea that this vision of pecuniary
profit was what drew out the divine Juliana most.
"Come into the garden yourself and pick them; come as often
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The New Machiavelli by H. G. Wells: dominate the civilised world of to-day, but as opposed to this, a
possibility of co-ordinating the will of the finer individuals, by
habit and literature, into a broad common aim. We must have an
aristocracy--not of privilege, but of understanding and purpose--or
mankind will fail. I find this dawning more and more clearly when I
look through my various writings of the years between 1903 and 1910.
I was already emerging to plain statements in 1908.
I reasoned after this fashion. The line of human improvement and
the expansion of human life lies in the direction of education and
finer initiatives. If humanity cannot develop an education far
beyond anything that is now provided, if it cannot collectively
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Phaedo by Plato: prison he has been always coming to me, and is as good as could be to me.'
We are reminded too that he has retained this gentle nature amid scenes of
death and violence by the contrasts which he draws between the behaviour of
Socrates and of others when about to die.
Another person who takes no part in the philosophical discussion is the
excitable Apollodorus, the same who, in the Symposium, of which he is the
narrator, is called 'the madman,' and who testifies his grief by the most
violent emotions. Phaedo is also present, the 'beloved disciple' as he may
be termed, who is described, if not 'leaning on his bosom,' as seated next
to Socrates, who is playing with his hair. He too, like Apollodorus, takes
no part in the discussion, but he loves above all things to hear and speak
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