| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Euthyphro by Plato: be your father or mother, or whoever he may be--that makes no difference;
and not to prosecute them is impiety. And please to consider, Socrates,
what a notable proof I will give you of the truth of my words, a proof
which I have already given to others:--of the principle, I mean, that the
impious, whoever he may be, ought not to go unpunished. For do not men
regard Zeus as the best and most righteous of the gods?--and yet they admit
that he bound his father (Cronos) because he wickedly devoured his sons,
and that he too had punished his own father (Uranus) for a similar reason,
in a nameless manner. And yet when I proceed against my father, they are
angry with me. So inconsistent are they in their way of talking when the
gods are concerned, and when I am concerned.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by
her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and
stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from
walking, she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad--no,
not sad, exactly--something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last
Sunday. And the band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the
Season had begun. For although the band played all the year round on
Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like some one playing
with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there
weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat,
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Unsocial Socialist by George Bernard Shaw: leather, and inscribed, in red letters, MY FAULTS. This she threw
irreverently on a desk, and tossed its pages over until she came
to one only partly covered with manuscript confessions.
"For a wonder," she said, "here are two entries that are not
mine. Sarah Gerram! What has she been confessing?"
"Don't read it," said Miss Lindsay quickly. "You know that it is
the most dishonorable thing any of us can do."
"Poch! Our little sins are not worth making such a fuss about. I
always like to have my entries read: it makes me feel like an
author; and so in Christian duty I always read other people's.
Listen to poor Sarah's tale of guilt. '1st October. I am very
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