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Today's Stichomancy for Rosie O'Donnell

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Hiero by Xenophon:

[14] Lit. "feels least disgust at age"; i.e. his patron's years and wrinkles.

[15] Cf. Plat. "Phaedr." 231 B.

The fact is, to have reached the zenith of distinction in itself lends ornament,[16] nay, a lustre effacing what is harsh and featureless and rude, and making true beauty yet more splendid.

[16] Or, "The mere prestige of highest worship helps to adorn." See Aristot. "N. E." xi. 17. As to {auto to tetimesthai m. s.} I think it is the {arkhon} who is honoured by the rest of men, which {time} helps to adorn him. Others seem to think it is the {paidika} who is honoured by the {arkhon}. If so, transl.: "The

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Kenilworth by Walter Scott:

strict sect of Puritans. He dare not, for the sake of his own character, refuse my appeal, even although he were destitute of the principles of honour and nobleness with which fame invests him. Or I will appeal to the Queen herself."

"Should Leicester," said the landlord, "be disposed to protect his dependant (as indeed he is said to be very confidential with Varney), the appeal to the Queen may bring them both to reason. Her Majesty is strict in such matters, and (if it be not treason to speak it) will rather, it is said, pardon a dozen courtiers for falling in love with herself, than one for giving preference to another woman. Coragio then, my brave guest! for if thou


Kenilworth
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The House of Dust by Conrad Aiken:

The cold white body, garlanded with sea-weed? Staring with wide eyes at the sky? I bent my head above it, and cried in silence. Only the things I dreamed of heard my cry.

Once I loved, and she I loved was darkened. Again I loved, and love itself was darkened. Vainly we follow the circle of shadowy days. The screen at last grows dark, the flutes are silent. The doors of night are closed. We go our ways.

VII.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.