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Today's Stichomancy for Al Capone

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Of The Nature of Things by Lucretius:

And travail and perish equally with those, And no rein curbs them from annihilation. For which will last against the grip and crush Under the teeth of death? the fire? the moist? Or else the air? which then? the blood? the bones? No one, methinks, when every thing will be At bottom as mortal as whate'er we mark To perish by force before our gazing eyes. But my appeal is to the proofs above That things cannot fall back to naught, nor yet From naught increase. And now again, since food


Of The Nature of Things
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Road to Oz by L. Frank Baum:

ends of its wooden legs, were shod with plates of solid gold, and the saddle strapped to the wooden body was richly embroidered and glistened with jewels.

As he reached the palace the Scarecrow looked up and saw Dorothy, and at once waved his peaked hat at her in greeting. He rode up to the front door and dismounted, and the band stopped playing and went away and the crowds of people returned to their dwellings.

By the time Dorothy and her friends had re-entered her room, the Scarecrow was there, and he gave the girl a hearty embrace and shook the hands of the others with his own squashy hands, which were white gloves filled with straw.


The Road to Oz
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Familiar Studies of Men and Books by Robert Louis Stevenson:

the true artist, and that to a degree unknown in other and less intimate pursuits. For other professions stand apart from the human business of life; but an art has its seat at the centre of the artist's doings and sufferings, deals directly with his experiences, teaches him the lessons of his own fortunes and mishaps, and becomes a part of his biography. So says Goethe:

"Spat erklingt was fruh erklang; Gluck und Ungluck wird Gesang."

Now Thoreau's art was literature; and it was one of which he had conceived most ambitiously. He loved and believed in