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Today's Stichomancy for Yoshitaka Amano

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad:

The first thing I heard when I came to myself was the maddening howling of that endless gale, and on that the voice of the old man. He was hanging on to my bunk, staring into my face out of his sou'wester.

"`Mr. Leggatt, you have killed a man. You can act no longer as chief mate of this ship.'"

His care to subdue his voice made it sound monotonous. He rested a hand on the end of the skylight to steady himself with, and all that time did not stir a limb, so far as I could see. "Nice little tale for a quiet tea party," he concluded in the same tone.

One of my hands, too, rested on the end of the skylight; neither did I stir


The Secret Sharer
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Baby Mine by Margaret Mayo:

affected innocence and her plea about just wishing to be a 'good fellow,' that she almost makes me doubt my own eyes. She is an artist," he declared with a touch of enforced admiration. "There's no use talking; that woman is an artist."

"What are you going to do?" asked Jimmy, for the want of anything better to say.

"I am going to leave her," declared Alfred emphatically. "I am going away."

A faint hope lit Jimmy's round childlike face. With Alfred away there would be no further investigation of the luncheon incident.

"That might be a good idea," he said.

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Louis Lambert by Honore de Balzac:

myself here. In the desert I should be alone with myself, undisturbed; here man has a thousand wants which drag him down. You go out walking, absorbed in dreams; the voice of the beggar asking an alms brings you back to this world of hunger and thirst. You need money only to take a walk. Your organs of sense, perpetually wearied by trifles, never get any rest. The poet's sensitive nerves are perpetually shocked, and what ought to be his glory becomes his torment; his imagination is his cruelest enemy. The injured workman, the poor mother in childbed, the prostitute who has fallen ill, the foundling, the infirm and aged--even vice and crime here find a refuge and charity; but the world is


Louis Lambert