| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Memorabilia by Xenophon: good," and in general all things capable of being used by man are
regarded as at once beautiful and good relatively to the same standard
--the standing being in each case what the thing happens to be useful
for.[10]
[8] Or, "good and beautiful are convertible terms: whatever is good is
beautiful, or whatever is beautiful is good."
[9] Or, "in the same breath." Cf. Plat. "Hipp. maj." 295 D; "Gorg."
474 D.
[10] Or, "and this standard is the serviceableness of the thing in
question."
Aristip. Then I presume even a basket for carrying dung[11] is a
The Memorabilia |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Purse by Honore de Balzac: bound this man to his friend's wife, dead now these twenty year?
The leader, who appeared the least dilapidated of these wrecks,
came gallantly up to Madame de Rouville, kissed her hand, and sat
down by her. The other bowed and placed himself not far from his
model, at a distance represented by two chairs. Adelaide came
behind the old gentleman's armchair and leaned her elbows on the
back, unconsciously imitating the attitude given to Dido's sister
by Guerin in his famous picture.
Though the gentleman's familiarity was that of a father, his
freedom seemed at the moment to annoy the young girl.
"What, are you sulky with me?" he said.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: place beside her, and gave me permission to share her sorrows; like
the repentant apostate, eager to rise to heaven with his brethren, I
obtained the favor of dying in the arena.
"Were it not for you I must have succumbed under this life," Henriette
said to me one evening when the count had been, like the flies on a
hot day, more stinging, venomous, and persistent than usual.
He had gone to bed. Henriette and I remained under the acacias; the
children were playing about us, bathed in the setting sun. Our few
exclamatory words revealed the mutuality of the thoughts in which we
rested from our common sufferings. When language failed silence as
faithfully served our souls, which seemed to enter one another without
The Lily of the Valley |
