Rewrite this in the style of your favorite author and others have to guess who your favorite author is

jim? could be any generic rock song t b h

What is a cage to us tigers. A burden? A weary resignation? We laugh at such childish notions—for that we have more than enough good spirits, and a predators cheery indifference to hardship. Cages were made to be torn down, and tigers for tearing—motto of an immoralist.

someone do joyce's prose

Reminder that this warosu.org/lit/thread/9539229 was the best thread on Veeky Forums last year.

The cage disappears when the tiger breaks through, and we might say that the former is refuted by the latter; in the same way when the cage is broken, the tiger may be explained to be a false form of the cage’s existence, for the tiger appears as its true nature in place of the cage. The ceaseless activity of their own inherent nature makes these stages moments of an organic unity, where they not merely do not contradict one another, but where one is as necessary as the other; and constitutes thereby the life of the whole.

>someone do joyce's prose
The fart
She destroyed his nose
Yes
YES
The fart is out

kekekekekekeekekek

i think nael might have plagiarized joyce

The tiger continued groaning and gnawing at the bars as beasts often do. Quite frankly, I thought that I should faint from the stench of disgust which overwhelmed me. The swirling patterns that wrapped themselves around the bars with a golden finish, evoking an almost oriental air about them, complimented the shimmer fur of the animal so beautifully. Rage consumed me; I’d skin a rug for myself had the equally brutish guards not been watching. The beast destroyed his cage, crying, “Yes! YES!” It where as though he saw in his onlookers faces of triumph rather than screeching terror. The lack of cheering upon the opium fog soon altered his temperament. “Why is no-one happy for me? I’m out!” he cried. “My friend,” I said, “to give one’s self liberty is to give one’s self death.”

Sartre?
Kierkegaard? Maybe Hegel

It was Georg himself

yes YES 1/1

come on, is no one gonna guess this one? I made it so easy

>Sartre
Nope. Not an existentialist either.

damn, surprising. i dunno then

It reminded me of my stay in Munich, of my fateful visit to the zoo in the full swing of winter. What do I remember most, but that incident? When that tiger destroyed his cage and something so queer happened - a little blonde boy, so separate among the shrieking, running crowd, stood still, staring at the snowy beast... and yelled "yes... YES!"
[10 pages later]
There is a tiger caged in me, I fear... I hope; a snowy beast waiting to be let loose. There is but one image that consoles me... it is that when it break free, that little blonde boy, so separate among the shrieking crowd, will be waiting there for me...

and then Tiger, ancient and intractable, lumbered through the meadow where there was a creek down in the shadow of the wood; the same path where his grandfather Mr Tigerius III himself did lumber and did lean and did lap up water from the creek in 1870 some six years after escaping the war and founding the cage that bore his name and his son's name and now his grandson's name from which Tiger has tried his whole life to escape which now lay rusted at the edge of the cool shadowy flowing creek as he leant down to sit and rest and sip from the generational spring of Tomapakakwa County lest his children forget the cage that will one day bear their names

Ah then, gentlemen! You might say that I am a pitiable sort, of an unquiet disposition, afraid of change. How wrong you are! In my own heart, I am as a tiger, breaking free of his cage, destroying it in the process. Yes, in my heart, I am the mighty tiger! It is only in my actions that I am the coward, and I sit with my thoughts and my spitefulness in the corner of the cage, decrying all men of action. I am not a man of action at heart? Certainly not. I am merely a coward of behavior. I am filled with such cage-breaking destruction inside that I am overcome with the spite and bitterness of being unable to break free of this metal prison.
Let me regale you with a most pitiable tale. A cage, one time, imprisoned me, as it were, inside of it. Ah, from that day on, I knew that I would repay this slight by the cagemaker tenfold! Every morning for four weeks, I would walk out to where the cage maker walks on his way to work, and every morning I resolved myself to destroy his damnable contraption in front of his face. He might slap me, imprison me again, even challenge me to a duel; so what? I implore him to attack me, to beat me down, to give me the solace of a vengeance paid in kind.
However, every morning for the first week, something got in the way. I could not find him in the crowded causeway of N--- Street, and, losing all hope, retired to my cage.
However, I regained my burning desire for even the slightest vengeance, and returned to the street that next Tuesday. At this moment, I saw him, that cagemaker: haughty, head upturned. The muzhiks and craftsmen of Petersburg all made way for the cagemaker. I started to walk towards him, but at the final minute, something within me broke, and I stepped aside like the rest.
However, at the end of the fourth week, on a Thursday, I did what I had set out to do. I saw him walking, cage in hand, walking like Great Napoleon in the street. I walked into his way, and stopped. He paused and stopped to look at what was blocking his path, and our eyes met. My countenance was sullen, spiteful. I had a wild look in my eyes that said I was ready for whatever came to me.
The cagemaker merely stepped to the side, and passed me by. I stood in the middle of N--- street, alone.

my only bars be xans
lil tig out the pen
yuh
YUH
we out here

is this also dostoevsky?

Faulkner?

That "this dick ain't free" guy who everyone thinks is brilliant.

Yea, the Lord doth crouch like a tiger. Yea, like a tiger of Ashur that runneth over the plains. Yea, YEA. The Lord breaketh the cage of Israel, O Babylon. Sing the praises of the Lord, the tiger is out of his cage. Sing His praises with lyre and drum.

Yup!

God

Unnamed Hebrew circa 1000 BC

The sky was the color of the gutter outside a pharma depot over the Greater Cincinnati Menagerie. Between the endless flows of voyeurs, in the harsh glare of the neon sign declaring his name, "THE FIERCE TIGER" paced his cage. He wanted to be free, he needed to be free, he had to get out. Not even the constant stream of sedatives the carni-vet pumped into his IV tube could dull the raging feral instinct built by millions of years spent in the jungles of India, king cat, boss of the trees. His blood pumped frantically, adrenaline overwhelming the drug cocktail. Things had to change. He had to change them. A flash of orange and black, and the aluminum bars crumpled beneath his paws. Alarms sounded immediately, tourists screamed and ran, mothers grabbed their children and daughters grabbed their parents. Yes, YES, now this was power. The tiger ignored the menagerie guests, keeping a sharp watch on the entrance it knew would soon release animal control techs, fully armed with hypnodarts and neocarbon armor. The tiger bounded to the top of the next-door elephant cage, and from there to the next cage over. A dart ricocheted off the bars two inches from its paw, and the beast cowered for an split second, fear of the drugs briefly paralyzing it. But almost immediately it was up again and running, now towards the high, barbed wire-topped wall that stood between it and the Cincinnati Sprawl. One powerful leap carried all the hunger of its ancestors with it. The tiger could feel razor wires cutting the flesh under its belly, but then it was over and falling toward freedom. With all the agility of a housecat it hit the ground and took off running. Police sirens wailed in the distance, and some feral wisdom took the creature in the direction of the sewers.
The tiger was out.

you mean 15 unnamed caananites that were later redacted and edited together by levite priests during the babylonian exile

...

duh, good job user

Before we consider the tiger and its negation of the cage we must first know what is the nature of this transition between this being-in-there and being-not-in-there. In the state of being-in-there the tiger is haunted by the being-not-in-there as it presents itself as a potential for being, in the refractory process of the for-itself. In this for-itself refrain the tiger faces a dilemma between being-in-there and being-not-in-there. Being-in-there and not-being-in-there both are indistinguishable from each other given that both can be presented as for-itself-in-itself. In this sense being-in-the-cage and being-not-in-the-cage is the same.

Tiger, cage, whatever. The real cage is in your mind. Destroy your mind, destroy your cage, set the tiger free.

Martin Heidtiger

The tiger is destroying the tiger in the cage is the tiger destroying his cage is the cage destroying the tiger? yes. the cage the tiger is destroying is the cage destroying the tiger. the tiger in the tiger is the cage is the tiger out? yes. the tiger is the tiger is the tiger.

10/10

There is a tiger, which is in a cage, which holds the former. The latter is destroyed by it's occupant, whom, after this destruction, cried out, "Yes, YES!" The former occupant, whom is now free, is now out. And It's cage, which is now destroyed, is no longer holding it.

Kafka?

close but no cookie

no effing way. who is it supposed to be then?

Jean-Paul Sartre.

>tfw I know this from The mentalist

Lord Byron.

bait

for sale
tiger cage
slightly damaged

Pretty gud

Victor Pelevin

Kierkegaard, Either/Or specifically?

>Dosto
Yeah, sorry forgot to respond. It is indeed Dosto

Lmao

F Scott Fitzgerald

>be me
>summer job at the zoo
>take a nap
>checking up on the animals
>tiger cage broke
>brat screaming YES
>first thing tiger did after getting out was taking a shit
>i'll have to clean that later
>pick up the backup paralyser gun
>walk around for half an hour across the place aftrr the fucking thing
>police calls
>they found the cat on the road
>notice clock
>hasn't been my shift for five minutes
>current guy is sleeping
>drop phone
>leave

The best tigers of my generation
Destroyed their cages
amen
amen
Running out into the world like mad cats

Allen Ginsberg

The tiger was freed when it reached the mirrors on the spiral staircase. The cage shattered, and I was standing in an open field, waiting for the knife fight to start. I wondered how I would've coped if my death had taken place in the asylum.

>stench of disgust which overwhelmed me
must be lovecraft

bruce lee

t. Have only heard of Joyce through meme posts on Veeky Forums and never read a word of Joyce in my life

Sylvia Platt.

Gaucho Jones

pynchon?

hegel

>Tiger Zargrilovnesyavich

>The tiger
>he hath broken free of his bondage
>aye
>AYE
>The tiger roameth uninhibited

gertrude stein i think

Fuck that talentless dyke

correct!

incorrect!

I spoke to many people into the city of Lycia and they all told me the same story of a tiger which escaped its cage. The cage was 9 feet long and 12 broad. So I was told. I myself do not believe this story because how could a tiger possibly break metal with its claws. Where the tiger then went I was told but I will not write it here.

...

This meme isn't funny

uhh....
Plato??

It's not a meme you chip.

ajajajajajaaaaaj
i doubt it gets any better than this

hey man, don't taint jim's name by associating it with plebeian politicalism

herodotus most assuredly
ee?
hems obv
pretty funny, but doesn't really work without the obvious russki refs
gunteeeeer
dostooooo

ENTER HERALD

KING: What news? A rider in such furious haste
Must bring some word that cannot wait for breath.
Speak now, pant later.

HERALD: Good my lord, I will:
Although the awful news I carry here
Will make thee rather wish for more delay.
The greatest marvel of thy palace grounds
Is that menagerie of curious beasts
Which draws the people of the city close
To gaze in wonder and astonishment.
Of all those mighty creatures, mightiest yet
Is that peculiar tawny monster, brought
From forest never mapped, in Indian lands.
To his cage only do the crowd incline,
For what are wolves, bears, jackals and the like
When such a beast as this is held beside?
This morning, on th'appointed hour, they came
And pressed in eager masses close around,
But he inside ignored their murmuring sighs,
Remaining steadfast in a stubborn sleep,
Until, made saucy by his captured foe
Some wolfhound set to barking at the cage...
This, for a while, he scorned to recognize
Except by merest flicking of the ear;
But on a sudden, up erupts from rest
In frenzied rage, whirls round to face the cur
And leaps with all his fury on the bars.

KING: The bars did not hold firm?

HERALD: My lord, they held
As firm as Darius held back Alexander,
Or I might hold the club of Hercules.
In half the time it takes to speak these words
The lock was splintered: open flew the door
And in an instant out the monster leaps
Among the crowd.

KING: Did all the folk escape?

HERALD: Though hope would have it so, I cannot tell:
With desperate shrieks and cries, all rushed away,
The crowd so fast retreating from the cage
Their motion seemed like water flying back
When children heave a millstone in a pond.
Each mother clutched her babe, each man his child,
And scrambling so, each seeks the nearest door,
Until at last no living thing remains
Except the monster striding back and forth,
Whilst out from every door and window peep
The timorous people, every one transfixed -
They dare not look, and dare not look away,
So much their wonder struggles with their fear.

The tiger burst from his cage, and for a moment I thought I could see Sensei smiling, as if it reminded him of something greater than I could understand.

Dosto
Is this inspired from notes or the adolescent?

>check google
>no results
brrroooooo
this is fucking marvelous
i kiss the hand that filled the bowl that fed the child that became the man who typed this

THE TIGER

they say tigers
b u r s t from their
cages like
blood
from
my
vagina.
But you can't keep
t h i s cat
Caged.

Jordan Peterson

The tiger escapaed yes yes yes. BABANABABALAMANCIAOANFNCTJSJANAJALQLXKANAQUQANAJQUANAKEKEKEKEKEKEKAKAHQKAKANXOA

So, you are there and a tiger is in front of you. You don't know why the tiger is there or why it's closed in a cage like people in a medieval caste were closed by its walls. Why is there a cage here? Where is even HERE?

Your eyes focus on the tiger moving towards you with absent eyes like that new waiter from your favorite restaurant just near your home. Everything around you is blurred and out of view, you keep focusing on the tiger. What is it doing, calmly moving behind the bars, you wonder. You move your eyes around, trying to understand what place is this. It's just the zoo, you realize with a slight relief.

When you go back and look at the cage the tiger is not there anymore, it's out. You don't know how to feel, scared that a tiger is free of its metal cubic leash, happy that it's out in the wild again or confused of how the tiger did it. It doesn't matter, as the story goes on in a different way once you turn the page.

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a roartiger coming down along the road and this roartiger that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo
His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.

He was baby tuckoo. The roartiger came down the road where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt.

O, the wild rose blossoms
On the little green place.

...

From the cage
a tiger
out came

the tiger had escaped its cage so we set out an expedition and shot it. when we returned to camp we drank and called all of our wives bitches

I cannot do it. This is perfection itself, and rewriting it in any fashion would only create something weak and feeble.

Rupi Kaur silly

lol i thought that might be the case, but that's way deper than any meme poem i've read. stylistically sure, but it just reminded me of the cave and all that