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Today's Stichomancy for Sofia Vergara

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Complete Angler by Izaak Walton:

from those high, those restless thoughts, which corrode the sweets of life; and they, and they only, can say, as the poet has happily express it,

Hail ! blest estate of lowliness; Happy enjoyments of such minds As, rich in self-contentedness, Can, like the reeds, in roughest winds, By yielding make that blow but small At which proud oaks and cedars fall.

There came also into my mind at that time certain verses in praise of a mean estate and humble mind: they were written by Phineas Fletcher, an excellent divine, and an excellent angler; and the author of excellent

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte by Karl Marx:

turn given to them; while, from the democratic claims of the small traders' class, the mere political form was rubbed off and the Socialist point was pushed forward. Thus came the Social Democracy about. The new Mountain, the result of this combination, contained, with the exception of some figures from the working class and some Socialist sectarians, the identical elements of the old Mountain, only numerically stronger. In the course of events it had, however, changed, together with the class that it represented. The peculiar character of the Social Democracy is summed up in this that democratic-republican institutions are demanded as the means, not to remove the two extremes--Capital and Wage-slavery--, but in order to weaken their

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Case of the Golden Bullet by Grace Isabel Colbron and Augusta Groner:

man's gifts and past, could not forget the incident. During the afternoon he found himself repeating mechanically, "That dog - that dog." But the words meant nothing to him, hard as he might try to find the connection.

When the commissioner left for his home late that afternoon, Muller re-entered the office to lay some papers on the desk. His duties over, he was about to turn out the gas, when his eye fell on the blotter on Horn's desk. He looked at it more closely, then burst into a loud laugh. The same two words were scribbled again and again over the white surface, but it was not the name of any fair maiden, or even the title of a love poem; it was only the words,