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Today's Stichomancy for Jon Stewart

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

Wildly determining which way to fly, Or one encompass'd with a winding maze, That cannot tread the way out readily; So with herself is she in mutiny, To live or die which of the twain were better, When life is sham'd, and Death reproach's debtor.

'To kill myself,' quoth she, 'alack! what were it, But with my body my poor soul's pollution? They that lose half with greater patience bear it Than they whose whole is swallow'd in confusion. That mother tries a merciless conclusion

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Aeroplanes and Dirigibles of War by Frederick A. Talbot:

merely been trained along certain lines, who is in many cases nothing more than a cog-wheel in a machine, and who is proverbially slow-witted, has concluded that he is no match for the airmen of the Allies. He found from bitter experience that nothing afforded the Anglo-French military aviators such keen delight as to lie in wait for a "rover," and then to swoop into the air to round him up.

The proportion of these individual scouts who were either brought down, or only just succeeded in reaching safety within their own lines, and who were able to exhibit serious wounds as evidence of the severity of the aerial tussle, or the narrowness of the

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Blue Flower by Henry van Dyke:

And at last, as they wrestled and whapped together, they fell headlong in the stream.

"Ho-o!" shouted Flumen, "now will I drown thee, and mar the Mill and the Maid."

But Martimor gripped him by the neck and thrust his head betwixt the leaves of the gate and shut them fast, so that his eyes stood out like gobbets of foam, and his black tongue hung from his mouth like a water-weed.

"Now shalt thou swear never to mar Mill nor Maid, but meekly to serve them," cried Martimor. Then Flumen sware by wind and wave, by storm and stream, by rain and river, by pond