| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Crisis in Russia by Arthur Ransome: contradiction to those of the rich peasant farmer who
employs laborers. The poorer and middle class see that we
support them against the rich peasant, and also see that he is
ready to support what is obviously not in their interests." I
said, "If State agriculture in Russia comes to be on a larger
scale, will there not be a sort of proletarianization of the
peasants so that, in the long run, their interests will come to
be more or less identical with those of the workers in other
than agricultural industry!" He replied, "Something in
that direction is being done, but it will have to be done very
carefully and must take a very long time. When we are
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Odyssey by Homer: you."
Ulysses answered, "I see that you are of an unbelieving mind; I
have given you my oath, and yet you will not credit me; let us
then make a bargain, and call all the gods in heaven to witness
it. If your master comes home, give me a cloak and shirt of good
wear, and send me to Dulichium where I want to go; but if he
does not come as I say he will, set your men on to me, and tell
them to throw me from yonder precipice, as a warning to tramps
not to go about the country telling lies."
"And a pretty figure I should cut then," replied Eumaeus, "both
now and hereafter, if I were to kill you after receiving you
The Odyssey |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: of a thoroughbred horse impatient of harness, and constantly tossing
up its head to rid itself of bit and bridle. His long and pointed
beard is neither combed, nor perfumed, nor brushed, nor trimmed, like
those of the elegant young men of society; he lets it alone, to grow
as it will. His hair, getting between the collar of his coat and his
cravat, lies luxuriantly on his shoulders, and greases whatever spot
it touches. His wiry, bony hands ignore a nailbrush and the luxury of
lemon. Some of his cofeuilletonists declare that purifying waters
seldom touch their calcined skin.
In short, the terrible Raoul is grotesque. His movements are jerky, as
if produced by imperfect machinery; his gait rejects all idea of
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