| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Laches by Plato: back to me, at the mention of your name, that I have heard these lads
talking to one another at home, and often speaking of Socrates in terms of
the highest praise; but I have never thought to ask them whether the son of
Sophroniscus was the person whom they meant. Tell me, my boys, whether
this is the Socrates of whom you have often spoken?
SON: Certainly, father, this is he.
LYSIMACHUS: I am delighted to hear, Socrates, that you maintain the name
of your father, who was a most excellent man; and I further rejoice at the
prospect of our family ties being renewed.
LACHES: Indeed, Lysimachus, you ought not to give him up; for I can assure
you that I have seen him maintaining, not only his father's, but also his
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Betty Zane by Zane Grey: seen those kegs of powder. He knew exactly where they had been. Now they were
not on the accustomed shelf, nor at any other place in the storeroom. While he
sat there waiting for the awful truth to dawn on the garrison, his eyes roved
from one end of the room to the other. At last they found what they were
seeking. A young woman knelt before a charcoal fire which she was blowing with
a bellows. It was Betty. Her face was pale and weary, her hair dishevelled,
her shapely arms blackened with charcoal, but notwithstanding she looked calm,
resolute, self-contained. Lydia was kneeling by her side holding a
bullet-mould on a block of wood. Betty lifted the ladle from the red coals and
poured the hot metal with a steady hand and an admirable precision. Too much
or too little lead would make an imperfect ball. The little missile had to be
Betty Zane |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Padre Ignacio by Owen Wister: that it might be the ship his homesick heart awaited. But it had slowly
passed. From an arch in his garden cloisters he was now watching the last
of it. Presently it was gone, and the great ocean lay empty. The Padre
put his glasses in his lap. For a short while he read in his breviary,
but soon forgot it again. He looked at the flowers and sunny ridges, then
at the huge blue triangle of sea which the opening of the hills let into
sight. "Paradise," he murmured, "need not hold more beauty and peace. But
I think I would exchange all my remaining years of this for one sight
again of Paris or Seville. May God forgive me such a thought!"
Across the unstirred fragrance of oleanders the bell for vespers began to
ring. Its tones passed over the Padre as he watched the sea in his
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