/lit/ - Literature

So is the bookz guide in sticky still valid? Where do I even enter these commands?

>be me
>an aspiring neo-Platonist
>buying cabbage because Pythagoreanism is another one of my infuences
>notice one of the staff members, a qt with short hair and round glasses, has a "Know thy self" tattoo on her arm in the original Greek
>swoon.jpg
>I go up to her and tell her that I noticed her tattoo and was that the Symposium was my favorite dialogue and then asked her what was hers
>"Oh umm, I'm not sure I have a favorite, I don't use disposable plates. But you can find them in aisle 3."
>laugh way too loud and touch her arm and realise she wasn't joking
>she steps away from me
>"I don't know you. I have to get back to my work. Plates are that way."
>continue shopping
>security guards eye me until I leave
>tfw

>Alcibiades' speech in the Symposium

>nervously looks around
>starts grabbing something from his bag

Beyond Good and Evil, 296:
>Alas, what are you then, my written and painted thoughts! It's not so long ago that you were still so colourful, young, and malicious, full of stings and secret seasonings, so that you made me sneeze and laugh. - And now? You have already stripped off your novelty and some of you, I fear, are ready to become truths: you already look so immortal, so heartbreakingly honest, so boring! And was it ever different? What things we transcribe in our writing and painting, we mandarins with a Chinese paintbrush, we immortalizers of things which let themselves be written - what are the only things we are capable of painting? Alas, always only what is just about to fade and is beginning to lose its fragrance! Alas, always only storms which are worn out and withdrawing and old yellow feelings! Alas, always only birds which have exhausted themselves flying and lost their way and now let themselves be caught by hand - by our hand! We immortalize what can no longer live and fly, only tired and crumbling things! And it is only your afternoon, my written and painted thoughts, for which I alone have colours, many colours perhaps, many colourful caresses and fifty yellows and browns and greens and reds: - but no one will sense from me how you looked in your dawn, you sudden sparks and miracles of my loneliness, you, my old loved ones - my wicked thoughts!

I'm an autistic 25 year old NEET virgin, so I have trouble understanding social norms. I submitted my novel that I wrote using the computers at my local public library(620 pages) written from the perspective of a carrier pigeon in World War 1 to a well-known literary agency and they accidentally copied me in to an email chain in which several of the emails mocked my work and also myself. I told my mom and she got upset too, but she baked me some cookies to make me feel better. This obviously hurts quite a lot but I'm wondering if I can sue them? I don't think they've noticed that I'm copied in yet and earlier today another email came through from the same chain.

>>10054869
I love her, she reminds me of my ex