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Today's Stichomancy for H. G. Wells

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy:

"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he did well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning of his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution to Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev, favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and Photius. He also acted badly by concerning himself with the active army and disbanding the Semenov regiment."

It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good for humanity.

What do these reproaches mean?


War and Peace
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle by Upton Sinclair:

twice as she tried to answer him, and then began, speaking low, and swiftly. "Jurgis, I--I think I have been out of my mind. I started to come last night, and I could not find the way. I walked--I walked all night, I think, and--and I only got home--this morning."

"You needed a rest," he said, in a hard tone. "Why did you go out again?"

He was looking her fairly in the face, and he could read the sudden fear and wild uncertainty that leaped into her eyes. "I--I had to go to--to the store," she gasped, almost in a whisper, "I had to go--"

"You are lying to me," said Jurgis. Then he clenched his hands and took a step toward her. "Why do you lie to me?" he cried, fiercely. "What are you doing that you have to lie to me?"

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Art of Writing by Robert Louis Stevenson:

There is plenty to do, plenty to say, or to say over again, in the meantime. Any literary work which conveys faithful facts or pleasing impressions is a service to the public. It is even a service to be thankfully proud of having rendered. The slightest novels are a blessing to those in distress, not chloroform itself a greater. Our fine old sea-captain's life was justified when Carlyle soothed his mind with THE KING'S OWN or NEWTON FORSTER. To please is to serve; and so far from its being difficult to instruct while you amuse, it is difficult to do the one thoroughly without the other. Some part of the writer or his life will crop out in even a vapid