| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Letters of Two Brides by Honore de Balzac: maid--are all very respectable people, whom I have spent the last six
months in picking up, and they will be superintended by my old
Philippe. Although confident of their loyalty and good faith, I have
not neglected to cultivate self-interest; their wages are small, but
will receive an annual addition in the shape of a New Year's Day
present. They are all aware that the slightest fault, or a mere
suspicion of gossiping, might lose them a capital place. Lovers are
never troublesome to their servants; they are indulgent by
disposition, and therefore I feel that I can reckon on my household.
All that is choice, pretty, or decorative in my house in the Rue du
Bac has been transported to the chalet. The Rembrandt hangs on the
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Case of the Registered Letter by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner: in his voice. "I don't exactly see how we could interfere."
"But they believe Albert guilty! They haven't given him a chance!"
"He cannot be sentenced without sufficient proof of his guilt."
"But the trial, the horrible trial - it will kill him - his heart
is weak. I thought - I thought you might send some one - some one
of your detectives - to find out the truth of the case. You must
have the best people here in Vienna. Oh, my poor Albert - "
Her voice died away in a suppressed sob, and she covered her face
to keep back the tears.
The commissioner pressed a bell on his desk. "Is Detective Joseph
Muller anywhere about the building?" he asked of the attendant who
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton: cousin Henry?"
"The fact that they can be offended by such a trifle
as Countess Olenska's going to the house of a woman
they consider common."
"Consider--!"
"Well, who is; but who has good music, and amuses
people on Sunday evenings, when the whole of New
York is dying of inanition."
"Good music? All I know is, there was a woman
who got up on a table and sang the things they sing at
the places you go to in Paris. There was smoking and
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