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Today's Stichomancy for David Beckham

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber:

of his hand across his mouth, and turned away with an ugly look. (Pork was up to $14.25, dressed.)

The errand boy's blithe whistle died down to a mournful dirge.

He was window-wishing. His choice wavered between the juicy pears, and the foreign-looking red things that looked like oranges, and weren't. One hand went into his coat pocket, extracting an apple that was to have formed the piece de resistance of his noonday lunch. Now he regarded it with a sort of pitying disgust, and bit into it with the middle-of-the-morning contempt that it deserved.

The mail carrier pushed back his cap and reflectively scratched his head. How much over his month's wage would that


Buttered Side Down
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Oedipus Trilogy by Sophocles:

OEDIPUS I but half caught thy meaning; say it again.

TEIRESIAS I say thou art the murderer of the man Whose murderer thou pursuest.

OEDIPUS Thou shalt rue it Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.

TEIRESIAS Must I say more to aggravate thy rage?

OEDIPUS


Oedipus Trilogy
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Across The Plains by Robert Louis Stevenson:

are about, he and his crew, when they pervade the slums of cities, ghastly parodies of suffering, hateful parodies of gratitude. This trade can scarce be called an imposition; it has been so blown upon with exposures; it flaunts its fraudulence so nakedly. We pay them as we pay those who show us, in huge exaggeration, the monsters of our drinking-water; or those who daily predict the fall of Britain. We pay them for the pain they inflict, pay them, and wince, and hurry on. And truly there is nothing that can shake the conscience like a beggar's thanks; and that polity in which such protestations can be purchased for a shilling, seems no scene for an honest man.

Are there, then, we may be asked, no genuine beggars? And the