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Today's Stichomancy for Will Smith

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table by Oliver Wendell Holmes:

least they shine on a good many that never come to anything.

Who are THEY? - said the schoolmistress.

Women. Their love first inspires the poet, and their praise is his best reward.

The schoolmistress reddened a little, but looked pleased. - Did I really think so? - I do think so; I never feel safe until I have pleased them; I don't think they are the first to see one's defects, but they are the first to catch the color and fragrance of a true poem. Fit the same intellect to a man and it is a bow- string, - to a woman and it is a harp-string. She is vibratile and resonant all over, so she stirs with slighter musical tremblings of

The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Contrast by Royall Tyler:

against the theater, so that the most reputable and law- abiding of our people were kept away from all theatrical amusements, if not from inclination, at least by the fear of deviating from the plain path of their duty. But immediately after the production of the 'Contrast,' a radical change of opinion in respect to the drama is apparent.

Plays by American authors followed in rapid succes- sion, the stigma against the theater gradually and com- pletely faded away; and when the first citizen of the United States, the immortal Washington, attended in

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

of gall that did duty for her heart. He knew the world now that he was about to leave it, and for the past few hours he had risen gaily to his part, like a joyous artist finding a pretext for caricature and laughter in everything. The last links that bound him to life, the chains of admiration, the strong ties that bind the art lover to Art's masterpieces, had been snapped that morning. When Pons knew that La Cibot had robbed him, he bade farewell, like a Christian, to the pomps and vanities of Art, to his collection, to all his old friendships with the makers of so many fair things. Our forefathers counted the day of death as a Christian festival, and in something of the same spirit Pons' thoughts turned to the coming end. In his tender love he