| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Bureaucracy by Honore de Balzac: [Confidentially] "After all, so much the better. Du Bruel, just keep
your eye on the consequences. Rabourdin would be a mean-spirited
creature to stay under Baudoyer; he will send in his registration, and
that will give us two places. You can be head of the bureau and take
me for under-head-clerk. We will make vaudevilles together, and I'll
fag at your work in the office."
Du Bruel [smiling]. "Dear me, I never thought of that. Poor Rabourdin!
I shall be sorry for him, though."
Bixiou. "That shows how much you love him!" [Changing his tone] "Ah,
well, I don't pity him any longer. He's rich; his wife gives parties
and doesn't ask me,--me, who go everywhere! Well, good-bye, my dear
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Captain Stormfield by Mark Twain: tired out and as wet as muskrats all the time. What would heaven
be, to THEM? It would be a mighty good place to get out of - you
know that, yourself. Those are kind and gentle old Jews, but they
ain't any fonder of kissing the emotional highlights of Brooklyn
than you be. You mark my words, Mr. T.'s endearments are going to
be declined, with thanks. There are limits to the privileges of
the elect, even in heaven. Why, if Adam was to show himself to
every new comer that wants to call and gaze at him and strike him
for his autograph, he would never have time to do anything else but
just that. Talmage has said he is going to give Adam some of his
attentions, as well as A., I. and J. But he will have to change
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde: goes to see her continually, and stops for hours at a time, and
while he is there she is not at home to any one. Not that many
ladies call on her, dear, but she has a great many disreputable men
friends - my own brother particularly, as I told you - and that is
what makes it so dreadful about Windermere. We looked upon HIM as
being such a model husband, but I am afraid there is no doubt about
it. My dear nieces - you know the Saville girls, don't you? - such
nice domestic creatures - plain, dreadfully plain, but so good -
well, they're always at the window doing fancy work, and making
ugly things for the poor, which I think so useful of them in these
dreadful socialistic days, and this terrible woman has taken a
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