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Today's Stichomancy for Colin Farrell

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Illustrious Gaudissart by Honore de Balzac:

shareholder in the newspapers, like Finot, one of my friends, the son of a hatter, who now has thirty thousand francs income, and is going to make himself a peer of France. When one thinks of that little Popinot,--ah, mon Dieu! I forgot to tell you that Monsieur Popinot was named minister of commerce yesterday. Why shouldn't I be ambitious too? Ha! ha! I could easily pick up the jargon of those fellows who talk in the chamber, and bluster with the rest of them. Now, listen to me:--

"Gentlemen," he said, standing behind a chair, "the Press is neither a tool nor an article of barter: it is, viewed under its political aspects, an institution. We are bound, in virtue of our position as

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Confessio Amantis by John Gower:

To god of his foryivenesse With half so gret a besinesse As I have do to my ladi, In lacke of askinge of merci He scholde nevere come in Helle. And thus I mai you sothli telle, Save only that I crie and bidde, I am in Tristesce al amidde And fulfild of Desesperance: And therof yif me mi penance, 3500 Min holi fader, as you liketh.


Confessio Amantis
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde:

everything we men have lost.

CECIL GRAHAM. My dear fellow, what on earth should we men do going about with purity and innocence? A carefully thought-out buttonhole is much more effective.

DUMBY. She doesn't really love you then?

LORD DARLINGTON. No, she does not!

DUMBY. I congratulate you, my dear fellow. In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. The last is much the worst; the last is a real tragedy! But I am interested to hear she does not love you. How long could you love a woman who didn't love you, Cecil?