/lit/ - Literature

The misnominal one is either: in transition to his proper name/denomination, or: purposefully deceiving.

Unrepentant heretics should be forced to acquire, in place of their inherited name, one that befits their fallen state, in concord with the trait that disgraces them, and as potentially becoming of their faceless form in Hell —e. g.: "Letheus", "Deteriorus", "Discombobulus", etc.


Within Plenitude, constant providence is concurrently accompanied by consonant improvisation: a chorus of praise surrounds the continuous melody of names.

If hearing one’s name in Plenitude is the superlative of a loving mother calling one home for supper, the opposite of it in Hell is that of hearing a hateful slavemaster ordering his nameless slave to get into position for punishment.

>>22540117


I get lucidly enthused by my muse.

Rainfalls are foreseen in great depths; shockwaves are foresensed in high speeds.


The beauty of life is precipitated from noble potentiality, and prospirated through virtuous actuality.

>>21566144
>[...] pipe smoking is not as bad as cigarettes.


Smoking breeds sickness; why smoke —anything— when the air, and the fruits, are so sweet?


The sky is what the smell of its air looks like; the air is what the taste of its sky smells like.

>>21566144
[...] pipe smoking is not as bad as cigarettes.


Why smoke —anything— when the air, and the fruits, are so sweet?


The sky is what the smell of its air looks like; the air is what the taste of its sky smells like.

I may feel as though I am simultaneously forever overdue, and doing overtime: chipping away at weeks like sunflower seeds, skidding along days, and farming months in advance, but I never regret any of it, nor has any part of my life ever seemed like a banality, because everything increasingly difficult that I do constitutes an investment into my cleanitude —and, per contingent chance, into that of others—; the rest is ascension.

>>21455254


Poetosophy.

Why would you smoke when the air, and the fruits, are so sweet?


The sky is what the smell of its air looks like; the air is what the taste of its sky smells like.

I am simultaneously forever overdue, and doing overtime: chipping away at weeks like sunflower seeds, skidding along days, and farming months in advance.

Why would you smoke when the air, and the fruits, are so sweet?


The sky is what the smell of its air looks like; the air is what the taste of its sky smells like.

The first time I had romantic feelings for a girl, approached her, and gradually made her my girlfriend, was when I was five to six years of age; she looked like what I now know to be my anima, and I still remember that falling, warm feeling of being in love whilst hugging her.

I detest adulterated individuals.