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Today's Stichomancy for Hillary Clinton

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from King Lear by William Shakespeare:

Exeunt [Lear, Kent, and Attendants]. Gon. Do you mark that, my lord? Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, To the great love I bear you - Gon. Pray you, content.- What, Oswald, ho! [To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master! Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee.

A fox when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter,


King Lear
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Somebody's Little Girl by Martha Young:

memory.

These little girls in all sorts of clothes were real, and sure- enough, and nobody could ever say of them, ``There are no such little girls in the world,'' because sometimes when Bessie Bell would get to thinking, and thinking about the strangeness of them, she would almost wonder if she did not just remember them. When she would give one just a little pinch to see if that one was a real sure-enough little girl, why that little girl would say, ``Don't.'' She would say ``Don't!'' just the same as a little girl in the row of little girls all with blue checked aprons would say ``Don't,'' if you pinched one of them ever so little.

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Albert Savarus by Honore de Balzac:

the Hotel de Rupt.

"What would have become of me," thought she, "if he had lived anywhere else? Here I can, at any rate, see him.--What is he thinking about?"

Having seen this extraordinary man, though at a distance, the only man whose countenance stood forth in contrast with crowds of Besancon faces she had hitherto met with, Rosalie at once jumped at the idea of getting into his house, of ascertaining the reason of so much mystery, of hearing that eloquent voice, of winning a glance from those fine eyes. All this she set her heart on, but how could she achieve it?

All that day she drew her needle through her embroidery with the obtuse concentration of a girl who, like Agnes, seems to be thinking


Albert Savarus