/lit/ - Literature

>>7431205
Well meme'd m'lady ;)

*unsheathes virginity*

>>6420594
>dfw stand like that on purpose to emit the awkward, ethereal genius look
It doesn't work very well in real life.

Back cover.

>>4275041
Reminds me of this.

What does /lit/ think of "John dies at the end" ? Would it be an enjoyable book even if I hate cracked.com

>>4104198
My life changed forever the day my parents died. Nobody would tell me anything beyond a vague "car crash." It wasn't until I stood up to the bullies at the orphanage that I realized they were vampires... and the gift passed on to me.

The Ego and Its Own

My edgy levels would have pierced the skies.

>>3585213

>It falls and consumes and tarnishes all delighting in chaos and consuming it's own excrement in a manic frenzy of Hellfire and swamp gas that permeates throughout the nation and will leave it shaken for centuries to come like a prisoner raped during his term and never speaking of it again but always walking with his rapist's member between his cheeks the stink and greasy feeling always plucking at the notches of his spine as if it were a beheaded chicken

Edgy extraordinaire.

>>3281263

>why do I have to live with the curse of being a completely beautiful and unique snowflake while everyone else is exactly the same

Earlier today I happened to watch "Jane Eyre" on Sky Cinema and, to my surprise, I liked it. Should I read the book?

...Also I'm feeling lonely and have no friends. Thinking about reading "The Little Prince", would it make me feel better?

What is art?

music;

I divided my entire life into staffs and bars, treble clefs and bass clefs, quarter rests and whole rests. I partitioned out the beats I knew that would count and even those that didn't, but when I breathed I could feel the entire sky sigh with the same melody of that sonata my piano teacher played for me when I was only three, when I still had sticky fingers and couldn't reach the keys but had such big, big dreams.
It's such an odd feeling, when your heart is torn: When your head sits at the shore but when your heart is drifting out to sea. Your consciousness evaporates in the sun and in the salt and you mingle in a stagnant in-between, a desolate expanse of I-wish-I-knew-who-I-really-am.
But I mastered this paralyzing concerto--I slashed through the measures with crude ball-point-pen crosses and I tore through the notes with unyielding cruelty. I dressed myself in the shreds of all that I knew I should be but never could be, and I let the stench of this lying suit bury itself into my skin until I could never wash it out, until I became one with the facade.
I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to, so, so badly.