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Today's Stichomancy for Robert Downey Jr.

The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Out of Time's Abyss by Edgar Rice Burroughs:

completely decapitate the Wieroo, the hideous head dropping to the floor and the body falling forward upon the Englishman. Pushing it from him he rose to his feet and faced the wide-eyed girl.

"Luata!" she exclaimed. "How came you here?"

Bradley shrugged. "Here I am," he said; "but the thing now is to get out of here--both of us."

The girl shook her head. "It cannot be," she stated sadly.

"That is what I thought when they dropped me into the Blue Place of Seven Skulls," replied Bradley. "Can't be done. I did it.-- Here! You're mussing up the floor something awful, you." This last to the dead Wieroo as he stooped and dragged the corpse to the


Out of Time's Abyss
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis:

perfect lady, but she certainly did look like a pretty gay skirt for a fellow with his wife out of town to be taking to lunch. Didn't look well. What the devil has come over you, George?"

"Strikes me there's a lot of fellows that know more about my personal business than I do myself!"

"Now don't go getting sore at me because I come out flatfooted like a friend and say what I think instead of tattling behind your back, the way a whole lot of 'em do. I tell you George, you got a position in the community, and the community expects you to live up to it. And--Better think over joining the Good Citizens' League. See you about it later."

He was gone.

The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells:

explosion shook the air, smashing two or three windows in the houses near, and leaving us astonished.

"Here they are!" shouted a man in a blue jersey. "Yonder! D'yer see them? Yonder!"

Quickly, one after the other, one, two, three, four of the armoured Martians appeared, far away over the little trees, across the flat meadows that stretched towards Chertsey, and striding hurriedly towards the river. Little cowled figures they seemed at first, going with a rolling motion and as fast as flying birds.

Then, advancing obliquely towards us, came a fifth. Their


War of the Worlds