/lit/ - Literature

>she got so drunk that she ended up in bed, lost her virginity (late, she was eighteen)

>>20558425
I had a dream where I was told that my neighbours 13yo daughter was attracted to me and that I should date her. I have had precognitive dreams in the past. What do I do?

my life is basically a Dostojevskij novel

>Shibboleth

>>19426121
Is she ok?

>>19387456
S-surely this is satire, right? This is not who /lit/ anons, who lecture me on Foucault in other threads, are really like?

>>18236334
wow

>>18234903
This is actually pretty crazy, because for a civilization that requires constant economic growth (capitalism) a shrinking population is doom for the status quo. Yet I can imagen a post black death type situation where after there is a new golden age, as history tens to do.

>TL;DR we are living at the end of and empire

>>18227696
>she big
damn thats hot

https://tinhouse.com/workshop/tin-house-scholars/

>>15812535
>knocking a few protons off the old hydrogen atom
This has got to be satire. If it were legit he wouldn't have mentioned hydrogen specifically. He wouldn't right?

>>15155767
>that voice
>he posts on /lit/

>>15094350
>defending his habitually created safe place
feels unreal man

>>14696204
h-hey nice girl

>>14476873
>Did you know there could be GAY PEOPLE LURKING IN THIS VERY THREAD?

>>14465032
>/pol/ memes and kek incantations bent time and space to influence WMF before /pol/ came into existence
h-heil hitler..?

>>13254743
>be me
>go to library
>approach reception to receive the books I've ordered online
>librarian is a major cutie with braids and
>she sees my books and hands them to me
>"majoring in english?", she sez, "do I smell an exam on modernism era coming?"
>"you got that right", sez nervously, "modernism era exam indeed"
>3 seconds of awkward silence pass by feeling like a whole weekend
>"nice", she replies, "best of luck!"
>say "y-you too" and walk away

An all powerful god with the ability to see the full extend of outcome of his own actions would still be limited to the same timeline, because as a perfect being he will always make the perfect decision and thus be bounded to the same chain of events

Not even god can escape his timeline

how can i be certain that the senses are not illusory?

>have to be to page 280 of Dune by tomorrow for class discussion
>On page 80
>work in 1 hour
wat do

>But it so happened, that those boats, without seeing Pip, suddenly spying whales close to them on one side, turned, and gave chase; and Stubb’s boat was now so far away, and he and all his crew so intent upon his fish, that Pip’s ringed horizon began to expand around him miserably. By the merest chance the ship itself at last rescued him; but from that hour the little negro went about the deck an idiot; such, at least, they said he was. The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though. Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous, God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.
W-What the hell did Pip see?

>>11479102
>Harry Potter style
anon, is that an influence of yours?

Do thots who learn Architecture also considered ArtThots?

asking for a friend

“Why, thou monkey,” said a harpooneer to one of these lads, “we've been cruising now hard upon three years, and thou hast not raised a whale yet. Whales are scarce as hen's teeth whenever thou art up here.” Perhaps they were; or perhaps there might have been shoals of them in the far horizon; but lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of vacant, unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity; takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature; and every strange, half-seen, gliding, beautiful thing that eludes him; every dimly-discovered, uprising fin of some undiscernible form, seems to him the embodiment of those elusive thoughts that only people the soul by continually flitting through it. In this enchanted mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space; like Cranmer's sprinkled Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a part of every shore the round globe over.

There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God. But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!