| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain: with the saw, for there warn't no knives and forks on
the place -- pap done everything with his clasp-knife
about the cooking. Then I carried the sack about a
hundred yards across the grass and through the willows
east of the house, to a shallow lake that was five mile
wide and full of rushes -- and ducks too, you might
say, in the season. There was a slough or a creek
leading out of it on the other side that went miles away,
I don't know where, but it didn't go to the river. The
meal sifted out and made a little track all the way to
the lake. I dropped pap's whetstone there too, so as
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Philebus by Plato: say, 'No, this is an image made by the shepherds.' And you may affirm this
in a proposition to your companion, or make the remark mentally to
yourself. Whether the words are actually spoken or not, on such occasions
there is a scribe within who registers them, and a painter who paints the
images of the things which the scribe has written down in the soul,--at
least that is my own notion of the process; and the words and images which
are inscribed by them may be either true or false; and they may represent
either past, present, or future. And, representing the future, they must
also represent the pleasures and pains of anticipation--the visions of gold
and other fancies which are never wanting in the mind of man. Now these
hopes, as they are termed, are propositions, which are sometimes true, and
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Island Nights' Entertainments by Robert Louis Stevenson: of English, I began to hold little odds and ends of conversation,
not to much purpose to be sure, but they took off the worst of the
feeling, for it's a miserable thing to be made a leper of.
It chanced one day towards the end of the month, that I was sitting
in this bay in the edge of the bush, looking east, with a Kanaka.
I had given him a fill of tobacco, and we were making out to talk
as best we could; indeed, he had more English than most.
I asked him if there was no road going eastward.
"One time one road," said he. "Now he dead."
"Nobody he go there?" I asked.
"No good," said he. "Too much devil he stop there."
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