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Today's Stichomancy for Sofia Vergara

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

What, is the king acquainted with my cause?

NORFOLK. We have, and he hath answered us, my Lord.

CROMWELL. How, shall I come to speak with him my self?

GARDINER. The King is so advertised of your guilt, he will by no means admit you to his presence.

CROMWELL. No way admit me? am I so soon forgot? Did he but yesterday embrace my neck,

The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Gambara by Honore de Balzac:

Gambara, with increasing vehemence, "hitherto men have noted effects rather than causes. If they could but master the causes, music would be the greatest of the arts. Is it not the one which strikes deepest to the soul? You see in painting no more than it shows you; in poetry you have only what the poet says; music goes far beyond this. Does it not form your taste, and rouse dormant memories? In a concert-room there may be a thousand souls; a strain is flung out from Pasta's throat, the execution worthily answering to the ideas that flashed through Rossini's mind as he wrote the air. That phrase of Rossini's, transmitted to those attentive souls, is worked out in so many different poems. To one it presents a woman long dreamed of; to


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

village street; and as I walked down it the broad golden sunlight of the short afternoon seemed to glorify the open road and the plain square houses with a careless, homely rapture of peace. The air was softly fragrant with the odour of balm of Gilead. A yellow warbler sang from a little clump of elder-bushes, tinkling out his contented song like a chime of tiny bells, "Sweet--sweet--sweet--sweeter-- sweeter--sweetest!"

There was the new house, a little farther back from the road than the old one; and in the place where the heap of ashes had lain, a primitive garden, with marigolds and lupines and zinnias all abloom. And there was Patrick, sitting on the door-step, smoking his pipe in