/lit/ - Literature

An amazing book, if you have not read it, I would take a look. It is worth it.

Redwall got me started reading, it took me a while to get into it, but I've been reading steadily for a good while now.

East Of Eden

East Of Eden

>>613010
First poem is from Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet." Second poem is from Semezdin Mehmedinović's "Sarajevo Blues."

>>612983
>>612984
>>612986
These are good responses.

>>612990
This is not.

>>612982
>Implying having a different subjective response equals "fact."

>>612977
Opinions are like assholes..

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
-Gibran
--


We're sitting on logs in the studio.
The only women here are on paper.
Crumbs of hashish from Afghanistan
dot the sharp tips of a small pair of scissors.
A guy on the balcony in the house across
the way is pulling an arc welder apart in the dark.
We're sitting on logs in the studio
and everything is so peaceful.
All that will change
as soon as I get into my pajamas.
It's cold out.
We're surrounded by mountains
filled with the mournful howl of chain saws.

--Mehmedinovic

What if Galt, John?

East Of Eden

Steinbeck's descriptions are amazing, and the story was very interesting for me.

twilight yo

>>593511

>Someone implying Twilight is a timeless work.

In The Studio

We're sitting on logs in the studio.
The only women here are on paper.
Crumbs of hashish from Afghanistan
dot the sharp tips of a small pair of scissors.
A guy on the balcony in the house across
the way is pulling an arc welder apart in the dark.
We're sitting on logs in the studio
and everything is so peaceful.
All that will change
as soon as I get into my pajamas.
It's cold out.
We're surrounded by mountains
filled with the mournful howl of chain saws.

--Mehmedinovic

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
-Gibran

>>593123
The Fountainhead, Atlas Shrugged, We The Living, The Virtue Of Selfishness, Introduction To Objectivist Epistemology, etc.

>>593097
The meaning ascribed in popular usage to the word “selfishness” is not merely wrong: it represents a devastating intellectual “package-deal,” which is responsible, more than any other single factor, for the arrested moral development of mankind.

In popular usage, the word “selfishness” is a synonym of evil; the image it conjures is of a murderous brute who tramples over piles of corpses to achieve his own ends, who cares for no living being and pursues nothing but the gratification of the mindless whims of any immediate moment.

Yet the exact meaning and dictionary definition of the word “selfishness” is: concern with one’s own interests.

This concept does not include a moral evaluation; it does not tell us whether concern with one’s own interests is good or evil; nor does it tell us what constitutes man’s actual interests. It is the task of ethics to answer such questions.

One of my all time favorite books.

1918: The Last Act
The Face OF Battle
East Of Eden
The Stranger
The Brothers Karamazov
The Story Of Philosophy
The Myth Of Sisyphus
The Stranger
Selected Stores - Anton Chekhov
The Plague
Sarajevo Blues
Crime And Punishment
For Whom The Bell Tolls
When This Cruel War Is Over
A Tale Of Two Cities
Fire In The Lake
Sappers In The Wire
Lincoln The Unknown
A Dirty War

buysomefuckingbooks

Study Spanish yo

The pen shakes in my hand; to write these words
Sleep all day, sleep all night, doesn't matter
Haven't missed much, an empty conversation
Exchanged under this leaking roof in whispers
Slumping on the porch, watching it all drip down
Pinging off of empty brown bottles in the grass
Keeping time by your breathing, the rain pours down
As I hold your hand in mine, side by side
Puddles overflow, spilling their cloudy contents
Only to fill another puddle

>>590181
>>590181
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chrysippus

WIKIPEDIA YO

“Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still.” - Rumi