/lit/ - Literature

>>15507664
this
Bernie can still win

>>11224757
This sounds savory and spicy delicious.

>>11135492
Real little girls don't have big enough eyes for me.

Greg Johnson is nice. He runs counter-currents.
https://youtu.be/VbGZdBagIpc

>post modernist critic responds with "well I interpreted it differently
>officer replies with "yeah well I've got the gun"

3 steps to figuring out that the only thing that matters in the world is violence

>>9216760
some people like their cats more than people

>I'll tell thee everything I can:
>There's little to relate.
>I saw an aged aged man,
>A-sitting on a gate.
>"Who are you, aged man?" I said,
>"And how is it you live?"
>And his answer trickled through my head,
>Like water through a sieve.

>He said "I look for butterflies
>That sleep among the wheat:
>I make them into mutton-pies,
>And sell them in the street.
>I sell them unto men," he said,
>"Who sail on stormy seas;
>And that's the way I get my bread –
>A trifle, if you please."

>But I was thinking of a plan
>To dye one's whiskers green,
>And always use so large a fan
>That they could not be seen.
>So, having no reply to give
>To what the old man said,
>I cried "Come, tell me how you live!"
>And thumped him on the head.

>His accents mild took up the tale:
>He said "I go my ways,
>And when I find a mountain-rill,
>I set it in a blaze;
>And thence they make a stuff they call
>Rowlands' Macassar-Oil –
>Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
>They give me for my toil."

>But I was thinking of a way
>To feed oneself on batter,
>And so go on from day to day
>Getting a little fatter.
>I shook him well from side to side,
>Until his face was blue:
>"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
>"And what it is you do!"

>He said "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
>Among the heather bright,
>And work them into waistcoat-buttons
>In the silent night.
>And these I do not sell for gold
>Or coin of silvery shine,
>But for a copper halfpenny,
>And that will purchase nine.

>"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
>Or set limed twigs for crabs:
>I sometimes search the grassy knolls
>For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
>And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
>"By which I get my wealth--
>And very gladly will I drink
>Your Honour's noble health."

>I heard him then, for I had just
>Completed my design
>To keep the Menai bridge from rust
>By boiling it in wine.
>I thanked him much for telling me
>The way he got his wealth,
>But chiefly for his wish that he
>Might drink my noble health.

>And now, if e'er by chance I put
>My fingers into glue,
>Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
>Into a left-hand shoe,

>Or if I drop upon my toe
>A very heavy weight,
>I weep, for it reminds me so
>Of that old man I used to know--
>Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
>Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
>Whose face was very like a crow,
>With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
>Who seemed distracted with his woe,
>Who rocked his body to and fro,
>And muttered mumblingly and low,
>As if his mouth were full of dough,
>Who snorted like a buffalo--
>That summer evening long ago,
>A-sitting on a gate.