| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde: ALGERNON. But, my dear child, do you mean to say you could not
love me if I had some other name?
CECILY. But what name?
ALGERNON. Oh, any name you like - Algernon - for instance . . .
CECILY. But I don't like the name of Algernon.
ALGERNON. Well, my own dear, sweet, loving little darling, I
really can't see why you should object to the name of Algernon. It
is not at all a bad name. In fact, it is rather an aristocratic
name. Half of the chaps who get into the Bankruptcy Court are
called Algernon. But seriously, Cecily . . . [Moving to her] . . .
if my name was Algy, couldn't you love me?
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Man of Business by Honore de Balzac: informed by Antonia of the 'nice old man's' proposals (for so the aunt
called Croizeau), wished to see him. Cerizet's declaration of war had
so far taken effect that he of the yellow kid gloves was studying the
position of every piece, however insignificant, upon the board; and it
so happened that at the mention of that 'nice old man,' an ominous
tinkling sounded in his ears. One evening, therefore, Maxime seated
himself among the book-shelves in the dimly lighted back room,
reconnoitred the seven or eight customers through the chink between
the green curtains, and took the little coach-builder's measure. He
gauged the man's infatuation, and was very well satisfied to find that
the varnished doors of a tolerably sumptuous future were ready to turn
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Deserted Woman by Honore de Balzac: of his heart. Smothered sounds as he came nearer the chateau told him
that the servants must be at supper, and he went straight to Mme. de
Beauseant's room.
Mme. de Beauseant never left her bedroom. M. de Nueil could gain the
doorway without making the slightest sound. There, by the light of two
wax candles, he saw the thin, white Marquise in a great armchair; her
head was bowed, her hands hung listlessly, her eyes gazing fixedly at
some object which she did not seem to see. Her whole attitude spoke of
hopeless pain. There was a vague something like hope in her bearing,
but it was impossible to say whither Claire de Bourgogne was looking--
forwards to the tomb or backwards into the past. Perhaps M. de Nueil's
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