/lit/ - Literature

>SOCRATES: I understand: then, perhaps, of coats—the skilfullest weaver ought to have the largest coat, and the greatest number of them, and go about clothed in the best and finest of them?
>CALLICLES: Fudge about coats!
>SOCRATES: Then the skilfullest and best in making shoes ought to have the advantage in shoes; the shoemaker, clearly, should walk about in the largest shoes, and have the greatest number of them?
>CALLICLES: Fudge about shoes! What nonsense are you talking?
holy heaven why did no one sneed at that seether? look at him lmao, i imagine socrates to be dying laughing from inside.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiMBzpZF1nE

>>9683642
>you tremendous homo
That's it now you've gone and done it that's the last straw I've been 19 for exactly two months now and I don't need to take this shit from some 18 year old punk who thinks he's so fucking grand. Listen I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your fucking life to a hellish end. I’ll put you in so much fucking pain that it’ll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a fucking back massage on a tropical island. I don’t give a fuck how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many fucking guns you own to protect yourself. I’ll fucking show up at your house when you aren’t home. I’ll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You’re going to start stressing the fuck out, your blood pressure will triple, and you’ll have a fucking heart attack. You’ll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you’ll see when you’re being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You’ll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I’ll run you over with my fucking car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could fucking destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I’d rather go to a great fuckng length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing fucking hell. It’s too late to save yourself, but don’t bother committing suicide either… I’ll fucking resuscitate you and kill you again myself you bitch-faced phaggot. Welcome to hell, population: you