/lit/ - Literature

Guess it's that time of the day to log into the 4chan website and laugh at all the retards.

Time turns the old days to derision
Our loves into corpses and wives
And marriage and death and division
Make barren our lives

Why do the Christians resort so quickly to insults? All I've done is restate the Athanasian Creed on the Trinity and then said I find it hard to believe. Learning today for the first time that water turns to ice hasn't made it any easier

Do they really kill baby cows and turn them into Christcuck manuals? These are the same people who tell you it's bad to genocide people who annoy you.

I like anime pictures but I've never watched an anime.
I don't know how.

>>20080371
Victor Hugo is the greatest of all incorrigible romanticists. Something between a prophet, a charlatan, a rhetorician, and a spoiled child, he believes in God, in democracy, in innocence, in justice, and he has a noble and unqualified devotion to human heroism and the depths of the dangerous sea. He has that arbitrary, maniacal inventive imagination which is very rare except in children—and in spite of his theatrical gestures he has the power of conjuring up scenes of incredible beauty and terror.

>People always ask you what your favorite books, music, films are
No one has ever asked me that.

When I examine my life logically I know that all these criticisms are grounded in reality.

I have very strong and informed opinions on Geopolitics.

Sometimes in his strange verses one has the impression that one is reading the fragmentary and broken utterances of some great ancient poet-philosopher—some Pythagoras or Empedocles—through whose gnomic oracles runs the rhythm of the winds and tides, and for whose ears the stars in their courses have a far-flung harmony.

If I were asked to name a writer whose work conveys to one's mind, free of any admixture of rhetoric or of any alloy of cleverness, the very impact and shock of pure inspired genius, I would unhesitatingly name William Blake. One is strangely conscious in reading him of the presence of some great unuttered power—some vast demiurgic secret—struggling like a buried Titan just below the surface of his mind, and never quite finding vocal expression.
No poet gives one the impression of greater strength than William Blake; and this is emphasised by the very simplicity and childishness of his style. Only out of the strength of a lion could come such honeyed gentleness. And if he is one of the strongest among poets he is also one of the happiest.

Just because his materials are so simple and so few—and this applies to his plastic art as well as to his poetry—we are brought to pause more sharply and startlingly in his case than that of almost any other, before the primordial mystery of human expression and its malleableness under the impact of personality. Probably no poet ever lived who expressed his meaning by the use of such a limited number of words, or of words so simple and childish. It is as though William Blake had actually transformed himself into some living incarnation of his own Virgilian child-saviour, and were stammering his oracles to mankind through divine baby-lips.

i just realized the little symbol = JRT

>>19570338
>the ramblings of pathetic, alienated men dealing with the fact that their lives have amounted to nothing
It's a literature board.

>>19568091
>I blame capitalism for everything I don’t like. Would you rather have me blame the Jews?
Yes.

I like the little swastika in the apostrophe.

>>19455264
It's really cold out and there's nowhere around except some old guy walking his dog.

I remember my first day as gap year ESL teacher in the Chinese provinces. I made it past falling masonry, over disintegrating sidewalks and styrofoam bridges to the middle school I was to work at. For the first lesson, the principal and other teachers stood watching. Class had 50+ students. All identical w/ bowl cuts and jumpsuit uniform. I introduce myself, tell them a little about where I come from and ask them what other countries they know about. In the middle of the class sat a gigantic fat kid with stubble and monobrow, way older and larger than his classmates, he screams ONREE ONE COUNTRY...CHINER. I suddenly find myself floating above the classroom looking down at myself and the principal and wishing I back home in Europe playing Skyrim at my mom's house.

>author says in the epilogue that reading literature is a waste of time

I'm not taking the vaccine and I'm not wearing a mask. I don't carry what this astroturfed blogger man or The Data says.

Do you listen to them? Which are best?

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree etc.

>>18832751
you didn't post the lyrics