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

Today's Stichomancy for Arthur E. Waite

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The War in the Air by H. G. Wells:

adventurous with private war.

It was the peculiar shape of Manhattan Island, pressed in by arms of the sea on either side, and incapable of comfortable expansion, except along a narrow northward belt, that first gave the New York architects their bias for extreme vertical dimensions. Every need was lavishly supplied them--money, material, labour; only space was restricted. To begin, therefore, they built high perforce. But to do so was to discover a whole new world of architectural beauty, of exquisite ascendant lines, and long after the central congestion had been relieved by tunnels under the sea, four colossal bridges over the

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle:

passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side.

"The third on the right is his," said the inspector. "Here it is!" He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through.

"He is asleep," said he. "You can see him very well."

We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a colored shirt protruding through the rent in his


The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale:

RIVERS TO THE SEA

Oh drifting steam disperse and die, Oh tower stand shrouded toward the south,-- Fate heard afar my happy cry, And laid her finger on my mouth.

III

The dusk was blue with blowing mist, The lights were spangles in a veil, And from the clamor far below Floated faint music like a wail.

It voiced what I shall never speak,