/lit/ - Literature

>The devil deceives sinners, and makes them imagine that, by indulging their sensual appetites, they shall lead a life of happiness, and shall enjoy peace. But there is no peace for those who offend God. “There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord.” (Isa. xlviii. 22.) God declares that all his enemies have led a life of misery, and that they have not even known the way of peace. “Destruction and unhappiness in their ways: and the way of peace they have not known.” (Ps. xiii. 3.)

>>15030145
Bonfire of the vanities
>>15030156
Behold a pale horse
>>15030146
Diary of a mad old man
>>15030718
The night land

>>14493517
what's morality in the end? what's the diference between good and evil ? prehistoric man did not care for something like that ,he killed for food or in order to survive, can you say it was evil ?

>>14052033
God bless all anons!

>>13986533
Christ is LORD

They're great people.

Has anybody ever read the old Longfellow translation of the Divine Comedy? Supposedly the first translation of it ever done by Americans.

>>12766932
The unfortunate fact is that when somebody acts out violently like this, it gives people a quick justification to stop seriously examining the actor's motives, which has always struck me as insane. Someone crazy enough to pull this shit without even a semi-logical motivation for it wouldn't be lucid enough to execute it.
Why did that guy shoot up a mosque?
>Because he's crazy.
Why did that guy mail people bombs?
>Because he's crazy.
Anybody else notice how this particular type of killing never seems to target gooks?
>I guess they just haven't gotten around to it yet.

>>12319064

The boy and I remained in the prosaic world, or so it appeared. My brooding soon gave way to functions of fatherhood. We were guests, I could not allow this toddler to wreak havoc in my teacher’s cellar. Yet one cannot keep a child’s curiosity in check for long. I allowed him to peruse the room, to examine the wire waste bin, to fiddle with the desk handles. My mind raced with thoughts, questions that I would pose to the Oracle. They were, naturally, Faustian questions regarding origins, meaning, the fabric of space, and the abolition of time. The details remained vague—I would know once the moment came. The boy, being more aware than myself, turned and led me through another door that I had not noticed earlier. The spartan look of the soldier’s quarters gave way to oriental splendor, akin to a Mediterranean courtyard or a pasha’s garden. Despite his young years, he certainly took notice of the opulent scenery. It was a true feast for the eyes. The blue and white Iznik tiles exuded a natural charm that worked to lull me into a state of temporary tranquility. I could have lost myself in the opium air. The boy, detecting a faint bubbling sound, made his way to a stone fountain that stood in the center of the plush pleasure palace. I allowed him to dip his hands into the cool water. It was inviting, almost insidious, and I struggled to keep myself from doing the same. After the novelty wore off, I had to restrain him from diving further into the pool—a sopping child would certainly ruin the moment’s aura upon K’s return. Amidst this struggle, another door appeared on the far side of the room. This time we both noticed and I took his hand as we proceeded to approach the obscure opening with caution. As we neared, I saw a long, open staircase extending into a cavernous space. It was dim, dusty, not unlike an aircraft hangar or an old foundry. Some distance down the staircase, there were gaps, missing treads, and no banister to speak of—a treacherous descent into an empty underworld. Even the boy could sense the danger; it was palpable, as if the space threatened to swallow us whole. Was this bizarre feature permanent or just an illusion? Could this place be a figment of the imagination, a hall of mirrors, or an artificial world of another’s making? Perhaps I was indeed the subject, despite being left in the anteroom. I shuddered, pulled the boy away from the sinister void, and returned to the Captain’s office.

>>12059169
thank you anon, this is what ive been looking for for so so long long (assumption but an unprecedentedly confident one)

its unecessary and stupid and unwarranted but ill refer to myself by the misnomer tarnasfag if i feel the need to since thats what ill be truly starting with, and beginnings are neurotically important to me. also his wiki says he comes from the school of "jungian psychology" which is relevant because i feel like this is the start of something ill want to remember the start of, a decade from now, when im wondering where it all went wrong or wry or wryght or right going through my own memories dreams and reflections

I read everyday knowingly expecting a burnout. Every other month I get this sensation of psychological tiredness of not being able to actually digest what I'm reading while still very intensively want to (read). I guess it almost has become an addiction for more and more information, knowledge, opinions or whatever category you might understand as the result of interpretation; you want to read, but you also don't want to read because you want to rest so you can actually be more efficient in your understanding of what you're reading. It's awful. Absolutely dreadful. Does anyone here feel like this?

Alguém daqui gosta de compor poesia? Se sim, partilhem!

[Pós-Pós-Pós-Moderno]
Ladra o porco,
(Daqui nada fica rouco)
Mia a vaca,
(Mãe, onde é que puseste a faca?)
Cacareja o lobo,
(Cinco euros? Que roubo!)
Zurra o cão,
(Vou perder o avião…)
E eu acho que já perdi a razão.
Estava tudo tão bem arrumado,
E agora mais parece que está avariado.
Bato, pontapeio e isto continua aleijado,
(Já estou a ficar amuado!)
Onde é que já se viu,
Pássaros a rosnar,
Morcegos a urrar,
Parece que me estão a gozar!
(Finalmente, o avião vai descolar)
Estou farto, farto,
Farto de tentar,
Já nem sei do que estávamos a falar,
Neste mundo de pós-verdade,
Fazer sentido tornou-se uma comodidade.

>>11565090
As a Christian I do sometimes feel pressure to make sure that, at least, my family goes to Heaven. Most of my family is Christian, but my father is an atheist and one of my sisters has a relatively loose association with the Church.

I hate the idea of anyone going to Hell, but I cannot deny that Hell is absolutely real and awaits those who disobey God. When I'm honest with myself, I realize I wouldn't wish the horrors of Hell on my worst enemy. It truly does seem to be a terrible thing. So if I could convince everyone I know to believe in Christ, and therefore to avoid Hell, I would do it.

But I am something of a coward, I suppose. I don't go up to people and shake them, and impress on them the dangers of Hell, and demand that they embrace the truth of Christianity. I tend to subsume the forcefulness of my belief into a veneer of polite society, which I suppose ultimately does them harm, which I do not like.

And I suppose I can't save everyone either. I just wish I could.

>>11520641
Nonsense, the purpose of art is to glorify creation, and by extension the Creator.

>>11301199
That or they got other people to pay for their contemplative lifestyles. I genuinely think the arts were better when artists had patrons.

Yes. Catholicism is better suited to poetry.

If you are a writer, do you ever read great literature and despair?

I read a lot of the Canon as an undergrad, and I'm reading it again as a graduate student, and the prospect of following in these guys' footsteps seems so daunting. Think of the Iliad, or the Divine Comedy, or Don Quixote, or Hamlet. Any given character or scene seems to have multiple meanings and interpretations that reveal not only the surface level action and dialogue but also convey poetic, philosophical, and epistemological truths simultaneously. And not only are these works philosophically dense, they're so beautifully written and composed that even if you're a brainlet and can't penetrate the surface, you can enjoy them for the sheer pleasure they give you when you read them.

It seems like an impossible mountain to climb, sometimes. How am I supposed to get to where they were?

Is the time ripe for metered poetry to make a comeback? It seems like the vast majority of what's written and published these days is free verse or even "prose poetry." Could success be had in going against the current trends?

>>10156011

I never written a novel before. Was going to try. Depression kind of getting in the way of really starting anything. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Everyone thinks im a loser.

I'm unsure if this belongs on this board, but since the Bible is a work of literature I'll go for it. In Genesis, God instructs Abram to circumcise himself as well as stating all followers of God must be circumcised or face expulsion from the church.
This is done in order to maintain the covenant which establishes Abram as the father of the holy land as well as maintaining domain over Canaan. It seems to me like this would contradict verses from Genesis which states man is created in God's image with meticulous attention to detail, as well as Leviticus where God states, "Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh, nor print any marks upon you: I am the Lord”. Obviously there are other contrasts but these are just a few I found. Is there a reason God would openly contradict himself like this?