| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Symposium by Plato: their own hands and feet and cast them away, if they are evil; for they
love not what is their own, unless perchance there be some one who calls
what belongs to him the good, and what belongs to another the evil. For
there is nothing which men love but the good. Is there anything?'
'Certainly, I should say, that there is nothing.' 'Then,' she said, 'the
simple truth is, that men love the good.' 'Yes,' I said. 'To which must
be added that they love the possession of the good?' 'Yes, that must be
added.' 'And not only the possession, but the everlasting possession of
the good?' 'That must be added too.' 'Then love,' she said, 'may be
described generally as the love of the everlasting possession of the good?'
'That is most true.'
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Lost Continent by Edgar Rice Burroughs: ago. They were littered with dust and broken stone and
plaster, but, otherwise, so perfect was their preservation I
could hardly believe that two centuries had rolled by since
human eyes were last set upon them.
Through one great room after another we wandered, hand in
hand, while Victory asked many questions and for the first
time I began to realize something of the magnificence and
power of the race from whose loins she had sprung.
Splendid tapestries, now mildewed and rotting, hung upon the
walls. There were mural paintings, too, depicting great
historic events of the past. For the first time Victory saw
Lost Continent |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A Treatise on Parents and Children by George Bernard Shaw: is taken for what he pretends to be, and treated as such. And to be
treated as anything but what you really are may seem pleasant to the
imagination when the treatment is above your merits; but in actual
experience it is often quite the reverse. When I was a very small
boy, my romantic imagination, stimulated by early doses of fiction,
led me to brag to a still smaller boy so outrageously that he, being a
simple soul, really believed me to be an invincible hero. I cannot
remember whether this pleased me much; but I do remember very
distinctly that one day this admirer of mine, who had a pet goat,
found the animal in the hands of a larger boy than either of us, who
mocked him and refused to restore the animal to his rightful owner.
|
