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Today's Stichomancy for Michael York

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Ferragus by Honore de Balzac:

before the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on those of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and through those lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, free from reproach and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of fire upon the heart of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved by the being whom he had killed. The presentiment of death struck both their minds with equal force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, as their hearts had long been blended in one love, felt equally by both, and shared equally. No questions were uttered; a horrible certainty was there,--in the wife an absolute generosity; in the husband an awful remorse; then, in both souls the same vision of the


Ferragus
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from De Profundis by Oscar Wilde:

of the man who from the bronze of the image of the 'Pleasure that liveth for a moment' has to make the image of the 'Sorrow that abideth for ever' it is incarnate. It could not have been otherwise. At every single moment of one's life one is what one is going to be no less than what one has been. Art is a symbol, because man is a symbol.

It is, if I can fully attain to it, the ultimate realisation of the artistic life. For the artistic life is simply self-development. Humility in the artist is his frank acceptance of all experiences, just as love in the artist is simply the sense of beauty that reveals to the world its body and its soul. In MARIUS THE

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The House of Dust by Conrad Aiken:

And one, grown duskily red with blood, Floated an instant across the moon, Hung like a dull fantastic flame . . . The earth has veins: they throb to-night, The earth swells warm beneath my feet, The tips of the trees grow red and bright, The leaves are swollen, I feel them beat, They press together, they push and sigh, They listen to hear the great bat cry, The great red bat with the woman's face . . . Hurry! he said. And pace for pace