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Today's Stichomancy for Alessandra Ambrosio

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Horse's Tale by Mark Twain:

plaintive, sweet, pathetic, for the morning is never sure, for him; always it is possible that he is hearing it for the last time. . . .


. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy and burst in with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, "Oh, we'll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home - yes, we'll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home!" and followed it instantly with "Dixie," that antidote for melancholy, merriest and gladdest of all military music on any side of the ocean - and that was the end. And so - farewell!

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Pathology of Lying, Etc. by William and Mary Healy:

perhaps valuable here to cite a couple of them. His Case I is that of a soldier, who after being released from prison at 23 years had begun his military duty and in a short time attempted suicide. He was then studied for insanity. It was found that he gave long accounts of his experiences as a chauffeur, rendering his story with fluent details about hairbreadth escapes and other adventures. He also told at length of his love affair with a young girl. These stories were discovered to be false from ``A to Z''; he did not clearly remember them later. The evolving of such fabrications was all along one of his chief characteristics. Examination showed no gross intellectual defect, but there were

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Westward Ho! by Charles Kingsley:

brain was busy with many dreams.

And no wonder; for over and above all the excitement of the day, the recollection of John Oxenham had taken strange possession of his mind; and all that evening, as he sat in the bay-windowed room where he had seen him last, Amyas was recalling to himself every look and gesture of the lost adventurer, and wondering at himself for so doing, till he retired to sleep, only to renew the fancy in his dreams. At last he found himself, he knew not how, sailing westward ever, up the wake of the setting sun, in chase of a tiny sail which was John Oxenham's. Upon him was a painful sense that, unless he came up with her in time, something fearful would come to