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Today's Stichomancy for Kylie Minogue

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Myths and Myth-Makers by John Fiske:

Wind had given him, but all the dinner he got that day was what the old woman cooked for him. In his despair he went back to the North Wind and called him a liar, and again demanded his rights for the meal he had lost. "I have n't got your meal," said the Wind, "but here's a ram which will drop money out of its fleece whenever you tell it to." So the lad travelled home, stopping over night at the same inn, and when he got home he found himself with a ram which did n't drop coins out of its fleece. A third time he visited the North Wind, and obtained a bag with a stick in it which, at the word of command, would jump out of the bag and lay on until told to

Myths and Myth-Makers
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:

"Mme. Ida Bonamy the aunt was not long in finding out through a servant that Croizeau, by popular report of the neighborhood of the Rue de Buffault, where he lived, was a man of exceeding stinginess, possessed of forty thousand francs per annum. A week after the instalment of the charming librarian he was delivered of a pun:

" 'You lend me books (livres), but I give you plenty of francs in return,' said he.

"A few days later he put on a knowing little air, as much as to say, 'I know you are engaged, but my turn will come one day; I am a widower.'

"He always came arrayed in fine linen, a cornflower blue coat, a

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Bucolics by Virgil:

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays. O worthy of thy mate, while all men else Thou scornest, and with loathing dost behold My shepherd's pipe, my goats, my shaggy brow, And untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any god For mortal doings hath regard or care.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays. Once with your mother, in our orchard-garth, A little maid I saw you- I your guide- Plucking the dewy apples. My twelfth year I scarce had entered, and could barely reach