Post your favorite quotes, exerts, or what ever you enjoy

"A day can really slip by when you're deliberately avoiding what you're supposed to do.” -Bill Watterson

Pretty accurate.

>"I'm tired of being a perpetual victim and basing my entire sense of self-worth on how other people perceive me, but I'm going to continue to do it anyway."

What a pussy. Who would want to read this retarded Tumblr shit?

People who are told it's okay to think like this, and then complain when they think like this.

"They climbed the upward path, through absolute silence,
Up the steep murk, clouded in pitchy darkness,
They were near the margin, near the upper land,
When he, afraid that she might falter, eager to see her,
Looked back in love, and she was gone, in a moment.
Was it he, or she, reaching out arms and trying
To hold or to be held, and clasping nothing
But empty air? Dying the second time,
She had no reproach to bring against her husband,
What was there to complain of? One thing, only:
He loved her. He could hardly hear her calling
Farewell! when she was gone."

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

2real

by Rimbaud?

Life’s a riddle – give it up:
There is no answer but this cup.

Man, I remember the fucking page I read that on. Almost compensates for the borefest that was the last half of the book. Should've ended with the protagonist killing herlsef, since it was supposed to be a "roman à clef".

"…Madame de Renal thought about the passions as we think about lottery: a certain disappointment and a happiness sought by fools alone"

"Like Hercules, he found himself faced with a choice, not between vice and virtue but between comfortable mediocrity and the heroic dreams of youth."

— Stendhal, The Red and The Black

Also the entirety of Omar Khayyam's rubberhat (Fitzgerald's 1st edition obvs

Into this Universe, and why not knowing,

Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:

And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,

I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
30
What, without asking, hither hurried whence?

And, without asking, whither hurried hence!

Another and another Cup to drown

The Memory of this Impertinence!

“We danced our youth in a dreamed of city, Venice, paradise, proud and pretty, We lived for love and lust and beauty, Pleasure then our only duty. Floating them twixt heaven and Earth And drank on plenties blessed mirth We thought ourselves eternal then, Our glory sealed by God’s own pen. But paradise, we found is always frail, Against man’s fear will always fail. ”

''Know ye, now, Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore?

But as in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God - so, better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing - straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!

>My moms told me to get a job, fuck that
>Aiyo, picture me getting a job
>Taking orders from Bob, selling corn on the cob
- Raskolnikov, Crime and Punishment

Which translation of the Metamorphoses is this?

>Omar Khayyam's rubberhat

...

been meaning to read Moby Dick ever since i read this excerpt. blows me away every time. is the entire book like this? i'm holding out because i'm halfway through One Hundred Years of Solitude and i haven't came across a cheap version of the book that i liked.

>It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was transparently pure and soft, with a woman's look, and the robust and man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson's chest in his sleep.
>Hither, and thither, on high, glided the snow-white wings of small, unspeckled birds; these were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air; but to and fro in the deeps, far down in the bottomless blue, rushed mighty leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks; and these were the strong, troubled, murderous thinkings of the masculine sea.
>But though thus contrasting within, the contrast was only in shades and shadows without; those two seemed one; it was only the sex, as it were, that distinguished them.
>Aloft, like a royal czar and king, the sun seemed giving this gentle air to this bold and rolling sea; even as bride to groom. And at the girdling line of the horizon, a soft and tremulous motion -- most seen here at the equator -- denoted the fond, throbbing trust, the loving alarms, with which the poor bride gave her bosom away.
>Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl's forehead of heaven. --Chapter 132 (The Symphony)

...

holy fuckin shit i need to read moby dick i need the dick in my life!!!

I feel those sentiments up until wishing I could start it all over. I feel every decision I have made in life is immutable and there is no point dwelling over it. But even more importantly, I feel that these decisions make me who am as a person. They define me, and my personality defines the choices I have made.

The thought of going back in time and changing things in my life repulses me, even if they would have made my life better.

actually this person has some really good and right feelings, she's just struggling to express them.

in every shit cliché—"be who you want to be" is one of them—there is always still a little bit of overlap with the true and noble sentiment which the cliché appropriates to itself. If you were to say to someone, "be the person you know you ought to be, and not the person that accidents of circumstance or fashion compel you to be", it would be still flawed but closer to the true and noble feeling which has inspired many an unfortunate utterance of "bee yourself"/&c. There is something great and Wordsworthian hidden under every hideous line of that paragraph.

The problem with clichés, of course, is that they corrupt the fruit of a person's moral thinking by falsely translating the natural affections which are the basis of their moral reasoning.

She's very adroit

kek

That looks like a penis