Today's Stichomancy for Joel Grey

'And more than so, presenteth to mine eye The picture of an angry-chafing boar, Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; 664 Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

'What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, That tremble at the imagination? 668 The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, And fear doth teach it divination: I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,

And paths must vary according to their walls That bound them. Hence when what is sweet to some, Becomes to others bitter, for him to whom 'Tis sweet, the smoothest particles must needs Have entered caressingly the palate's pores. And, contrariwise, with those to whom that sweet Is sour within the mouth, beyond a doubt The rough and barbed particles have got Into the narrows of the apertures. Now easy it is from these affairs to know Whatever...

Of The Nature of Things

sat a peasant and his son, a boy ten years of age. A beggar woman, old, wrinkled, and clad in rags, was crouching, with her almost empty wallet, on a great coil of rope that lay in the prow. One of the rowers, an old sailor, who had known her in the days of her beauty and prosperity, had let her come in "for the love of God," in the beautiful phrase that the common people use.

"Thank you kindly, Thomas," the old woman had said. "I will say two /Paters/ and two /Aves/ for you in my prayers to-night."

The skipper blew his horn for the last time, looked along the silent shore, flung off the chain, ran along the side of the boat, and took up his position at the helm. He looked at the sky, and as soon as they