Tarot Runes I Ching Stichomancy Contact
Store Numerology Coin Flip Yes or No Webmasters
Personal Celebrity Biorhythms Bibliomancy Settings

Today's Stichomancy for Elisha Cuthbert

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln:

we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . .

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Pupil by Henry James:

him tenderly on again.

Morgan proceeded and after a few steps gave a sigh of mingled weariness and relief. "Ah now that we look at the facts it's all right!"

CHAPTER VII

They looked at the facts a good deal after this and one of the first consequences of their doing so was that Pemberton stuck it out, in his friend's parlance, for the purpose. Morgan made the facts so vivid and so droll, and at the same time so bald and so ugly, that there was fascination in talking them over with him, just as there would have been heartlessness in leaving him alone

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Dreams & Dust by Don Marquis:

That fancy came! . . . for then . . . and then . . . A sudden mist dropped from the sky,

A mist swept in across the sea . . . A mist that hid her face from me . . . A weeping mist all tinged with red, A dripping mist that smelt like blood . . . It choked my throat, it burnt my brain . . . And through it peered one sallow star, And through it rang one shriek of pain . . . And when it passed my hands were red, My soul was dabbled with her blood;