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Today's Stichomancy for Josh Hartnett

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from New Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson:

The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day.

The tall trees stood in the sunlight As still as still could be, But the deep grass sighed and rustled And bowed and beckoned me.

The deep grass moved and whispered And bowed and brushed my face. It whispered in the sunshine: "The winter comes apace."

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Familiar Studies of Men and Books by Robert Louis Stevenson:

first of those denounced by the Prior to fall into the toils. We may suppose, at least, that it was not long thereafter; we may suppose him competed for between lay and clerical Courts; and we may suppose him alternately pert and impudent, humble and fawning, in his defence. But at the end of all supposing, we come upon some nuggets of fact. For first, he was put to the question by water. He who had tossed off so many cups of white Baigneux or red Beaune, now drank water through linen folds, until his bowels were flooded and his heart stood still. After so much raising of the elbow, so much outcry of fictitious thirst, here at last was enough

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard:

then, out came the glorious sun, sucking up the mists and warming the chill air. Benumbed, and utterly exhausted, we dragged ourselves to our feet, and went and stood in the bright rays, and were thankful for them. I can quite understand how it is that primitive people become sun worshippers, especially if their conditions of life render them liable to exposure.

In half an hour more we were once again making fair progress with the help of a good wind. Our spirits had returned with the sunshine, and we were ready to laugh at difficulties and dangers that had been almost crushing on the previous day.

And so we went on cheerily till about eleven o'clock. Just as


Allan Quatermain