| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Laches by Plato: tugged, but was unable to get his weapon free. The two ships were passing
one another. He first ran along his own ship holding on to the spear; but
as the other ship passed by and drew him after as he was holding on, he let
the spear slip through his hand until he retained only the end of the
handle. The people in the transport clapped their hands, and laughed at
his ridiculous figure; and when some one threw a stone, which fell on the
deck at his feet, and he quitted his hold of the scythe-spear, the crew of
his own trireme also burst out laughing; they could not refrain when they
beheld the weapon waving in the air, suspended from the transport. Now I
do not deny that there may be something in such an art, as Nicias asserts,
but I tell you my experience; and, as I said at first, whether this be an
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Pierre Grassou by Honore de Balzac: Toward the end of the sitting the stairway shook, the door was
violently thrust open by Joseph Bridau; he came like a whirlwind, his
hair flying. He showed his grand haggard face as he looked about him,
casting everywhere the lightning of his glance; then he walked round
the whole studio, and returned abruptly to Grassou, pulling his coat
together over the gastric region, and endeavouring, but in vain, to
button it, the button mould having escaped from its capsule of cloth.
"Wood is dear," he said to Grassou.
"Ah!"
"The British are after me" (slang term for creditors) "Gracious! do
you paint such things as that?"
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine and Mucedorus by William Shakespeare: They will revenge this thy notorious wrong,
And power their plagues upon thy cursed head.
LOCRINE.
What! prat'st thou, peasant, to thy sovereign?
Or art thou strooken in some extasy?
Doest thou not tremble at our royal looks?
Dost thou not quake, when mighty Locrine frowns?
Thou beardless boy, wer't not that Locrine scorns
To vex his mind with such a heartless child,
With the sharp point of this my battle-axe,
I would send thy soul to Puriflegiton.
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