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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 The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas:

the front, but was nothing but simple buff behind. Vainglorious as he was, Porthos could not afford to have a baldric wholly of gold, but had at least half. One could comprehend the necessity of the cold and the urgency of the cloak.

"Bless me!" cried Porthos, making strong efforts to disembarrass himself of D'Artagnan, who was wriggling about his back; "you must be mad to run against people in this manner."

"Excuse me," said D'Artagnan, reappearing under the shoulder of the giant, "but I am in such haste--I was running after someone and--"

"And do you always forget your eyes when you run?" asked Porthos.

The Three Musketeers
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Tom Grogan by F. Hopkinson Smith:

throw up me bid."



Ever since the eventful morning when Carl had neglected the Big Gray for a stolen hour with Jennie, Cully had busied himself in devising ways of making the Swede's life miserable. With a boy's keen insight, he had discovered enough to convince him that Carl was "dead mashed on Jennie," as he put it, but whether "for keeps" or not he had not yet determined. He had already enriched his songs with certain tender allusions to their present frame of mind and their future state of happiness. "Where was Moses when the

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

came to birth in her mind and grew there, as the sunbeams grew without along the wall. She felt that impulse of delight, vague, inexplicable, which wraps the moral being as a cloud wraps the physical body. Her thoughts were all in keeping with the details of this strange landscape, and the harmonies of her heart blended with the harmonies of nature. When the sun reached an angle of the wall where the "Venus- hair" of southern climes drooped its thick leaves, lit with the changing colors of a pigeon's breast, celestial rays of hope illumined the future to her eyes, and thenceforth she loved to gaze upon that piece of wall, on its pale flowers, its blue harebells, its wilting herbage, with which she mingled memories as tender as those of

Eugenie Grandet