| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Philosophy 4 by Owen Wister: war and took the business in '65. I'm not commonly to be met out this
late. About fifteen minutes earlier is my time for gettin' back, unless
I'm plannin' for a jamboree. But to-night I got to settin' and watchin'
that sunset, and listenin' to a darned red-winged blackbird, and I guess
Mrs. Higgs has decided to expect me somewheres about noon to-morrow or
Friday. Say, did Johnnie send you? "When he found that John had in a
measure been responsible for their journey, he filled with gayety. "Oh,
Johnnie's a bird!" said he. "He's that demure on first appearance.
Walked in last evening and wanted dinner. Did he tell you what he ate?
Guess he left out what he drank. Yes, he's demure."
You might suppose that upon their landlord's safe and sober return
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lock and Key Library by Julian Hawthorne, Ed.: again, though of an unpopular character, had rather availed to make
them unknown than to make them hateful. In one point this case
differed memorably from the other--that, instead of falling
helpless, or flying victims (as the Weishaupts had done), these old
men, strong, resolute, and not so much taken by surprise, left
proofs that they had made a desperate defense. The furniture was
partly smashed to pieces, and the other details furnished evidence
still more revolting of the acharnement with which the struggle had
been maintained. In fact, with THEM a surprise must have been
impracticable, as they admitted nobody into their house on visiting
terms. It was thought singular that from each of these domestic
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from War and the Future by H. G. Wells: these manufacturers speak with a kind of astonishment of the
deadly use to which their works are put. They find themselves
making the new war as a man might wake out of some drugged
condition to find himself strangling his mother.
So that Mr. Pennell's sketchy and transient human figures seem
altogether right to me. He sees these forges, workshops, cranes
and the like, as inhuman and as wonderful as cliffs or great
caves or icebergs or the stars. They are a new aspect of the
logic of physical necessity that made all these older things, and
he seizes upon the majesty and beauty of their dimensions with an
entire impartiality. And they are as impartial. Through all
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