/lit/ - Literature

>>17825951
Does it count as a ‘waifu’ if you invented them yourself? I.E. they’re not based on any existing media, I created their character in my head. I’ve had this for some years now.

/lit/ is a mode of thinking impervious to logical arguments; i could write several paragraphs worth of effort posting on various topics, only to be met by "retroactively refuted" or "brainlet"
showing one's literary take is pure subjectivity, and usually derails any given thread to a discussion of the shortcomings of books ("formidable mediocrity"", "a nonentity to me", "A cheap sensationalist, clumsy and vulgar", etc)
also, to debate with someone you need to have some sort of common language; lit's use of "midwit", "hegelians", "platonists" is miles away from the actual meanings any of the terms have
even litshits sometimes suspect they are being disingenuous when they make threads like "2020, still falling for the new book meme" or something along those lines, admitting that they ascribe simplistic and overly sinister motives to issues that have other, more complex causes

FUCK people with small foreheads.

"At the beginning of the last year of his life, he fell into a custom of taking immediately after dinner a cup of coffee, especially on those days when it happened that I was of his party. And such was the importance he attached to this little pleasure, that he would even make a memorandum beforehand, in the blank-paper book I had given him, that on the next day I was to dine with him, and consequently that there was to be coffee. Sometimes it would happen, that the interest of conversation carried him past the time at which he felt the craving for it; and this I was not sorry to observe, as I feared that coffee, which he had never been accustomed to, 9 might disturb his rest at night. But, if this did not happen, then commenced a scene of some interest. Coffee must be brought ‘upon the spot,’ (a word he had constantly in his mouth during his latter days,) ‘in a moment.’ And the expressions of his impatience, though from old habit still gentle, were so lively, and had so much of infantine naïveté about them, that none of us could forbear smiling. Knowing what would happen, I had taken care that all the preparations should be made beforehand; the coffee was ground; the water was boiling; and the very moment the word was given, his servant shot in like an arrow, and plunged the coffee into the water. All that remained, therefore, was to give it time to boil up. But this trifling delay seemed unendurable to Kant. All consolations were thrown away upon him: vary the formula as we might, he was never at a loss for a reply. If it was said—‘Dear Professor, the coffee will be brought up in a moment.’—’Will be!’ he would say, ‘but there’s the rub, that it only will be: Man never is, but always to be blest.’
[...]
"If another cried out—‘The coffee is coming immediately.’—‘Yes,’ he would retort, ‘and so is the next hour: and, by the way, it’s about that length of time that I have waited for it.’ Then he would collect himself with a stoical air, and say—‘Well, one can die after all: it is but dying; and in the next world, thank God! there is no drinking of coffee, and consequently no—waiting for it.’ Sometimes he would rise from his chair, open the door, and cry out with a feeble querulousness—‘Coffee! coffee!’ And when at length he heard the servant’s step upon the stairs, he would turn round to us, and, as joyfully as ever sailor from the mast-head, he would call out—‘Land, land! my dear friends, I see land.’
"