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Today's Stichomancy for Jerry Seinfeld

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Madam How and Lady Why by Charles Kingsley:

answer to Why did we go out is, "Because we chose to take a walk." Now when we talk about other things beside ourselves, we must remember this same difference between How and Why. If I ask you, "Why does fire burn you?" you would answer, I suppose, being a little boy, "Because it is hot;" which is all you know about it. But if you were a great chemist, instead of a little boy, you would be apt to answer me, I am afraid, "Fire burns because the vibratory motion of the molecules of the heated substance communicates itself to the molecules of my skin, and so destroys their tissue;" which is, I dare say, quite true: but it only tells us how fire burns, the way or means by which it burns; it

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Poems by Oscar Wilde:

O 't is old Dame Jeannette that kept the hall, I knew she would die at the autumn fall.

Dame Jeannette had not that gold-brown hair, Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair.

O 't is none of our kith and none of our kin, (Her soul may our Lady assoil from sin!)

But I hear the boy's voice chaunting sweet, 'Elle est morte, la Marguerite.'

Come in, my son, and lie on the bed, And let the dead folk bury their dead.

O mother, you know I loved her true:

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from In a German Pension by Katherine Mansfield:

must take a walk. It is imperative that I free my spirit in the open air for a moment. Would you come with me as far as the railway station and back?"

"Very well, then, knock on my door when you're ready."

Thus the modern soul and I found ourselves together under the stars.

"What a night!" she said. "Do you know that poem of Sappho about her hands in the stars...I am curiously sapphic. And this is so remarkable--not only am I sapphic, I find in all the works of all the greatest writers, especially in their unedited letters, some touch, some sign of myself--some resemblance, some part of myself, like a thousand reflections of my own hands in a dark mirror."