| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Legend of Montrose by Walter Scott: invincible Gustavus never paid above one-third of that sum, whilk
was distributed monthly by way of loan; although, when justly
considered, it was, in fact, a borrowing by that great monarch of
the additional two-thirds which were due to the soldier. And I
have seen some whole regiments of Dutch and Holsteiners mutiny on
the field of battle, like base scullions, crying out Gelt, gelt,
signifying their desire of pay, instead of falling to blows like
our noble Scottish blades, who ever disdained, my lord,
postponing of honour to filthy lucre."
"But were not these arrears," said Lord Menteith, "paid to the
soldiery at some stated period?"
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Philosophy 4 by Owen Wister: the relation of subject and object is implied as the primary condition
of all knowledge. Now, Plato never--"
"Skip Plato," interrupted one of the boys. "You gave us his points
yesterday."
"Yep," assented the other, rattling through the back pages of his notes.
"Got Plato down cold somewhere,--oh, here. He never caught on to the
subjective, any more than the other Greek bucks. Go on to the next
chappie."
"If you gentlemen have mastered the--the Grreek bucks," observed the
instructor, with sleek intonation, "we--"
"Yep," said the second tennis boy, running a rapid judicial eye over his
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Bab:A Sub-Deb, Mary Roberts Rinehart by Mary Roberts Rinehart: name of mine, but because it is romantic in sound. Also because I
had never known any one named Harold and it seemed only discrete.
I took it home in my muff and put it under my pillow where Hannah
would find it and probably take it to mother. I wanted to buy a
ring too, to hang on a ribbon around my neck. But the violets had
made a fearful hole in my thirteen dollars.
I borrowed a stub pen at the stationer's and I wrote on the
photograph, in large, sprawling letters, "To YOU from ME."
"There," I said to myself, when I put it under the pillow. "You
look like a photograph, but you are really a bomb-shell."
As things eventuated, it was. More so, indeed.
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