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/lit/ - Literature


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15154531 No.15154531 [Reply] [Original]

april is the cruelest month

>> No.15154546
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15154546

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

>> No.15154552

>>15154531
My birthday is In April.

>> No.15154554
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15154554

>>15154552
Happy birthday anon!

>> No.15154560
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15154560

Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. Ta Ta. Goonight. Goonight.
Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

>> No.15155629

>>15154531
>The proverb "March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers", first recorded in 1886, and the shorter, trochaic version "April showers bring May flowers" (originally "Sweet April showers/Do spring May flowers", part of a poem recorded in 1610) are common expressions in English speaking countries. The phrase is referenced in the General Prologue of The Canterbury Tales: "Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote".

>> No.15155642

April sucks ass for me too, Anon. Here’s to the fucking thing ending soon.

>> No.15155643

>>15154552
Me too

Therefore I agree with OP

>> No.15155776

what was phlebas problem?

>> No.15156001

>>15154531
But seriously, why is April the cruelest month?

>> No.15156175

>>15154552
I w-was conceived in April (bday in central January..)

>> No.15156187

>>15156001
Because Eliot wanted to reverse Chaucer's fondness for April at the beginning of C Tales, the time for setting off on pilgrimages in bygone days.

>> No.15156193

Joyce made some edits
Rouen is the rainiest place, getting/
Inside all impermeables, wetting/
Damp marrow in drenched bones./
Midwinter soused us coming over Le Mans/
Our inn at Niort was the Grape of Burgundy

But the winepress of the Lord thundered over that grape of Burgundy/
And we left it in a hurgundy./
(Hurry up, Joyce, it's time!)
I heard mosquitoes swarm in old Bordeaux/
So many!/
I had not thought the earth contained so many/
(Hurry up, Joyce, it's time)
Mr Anthologos, the local gardener,/
Greycapped, with politness full of cunning/
Has made wine these fifty years/
And told me in his southern French/
Le petit vin is the surest drink to buy/
For if 'tis bad/
Vous ne l'avez pas payé/
(Hurry up, hurry up, now, now, now!)
But we shall have great times,/
When we return to Clinic, that waste land/
O Esculapios!/
(Shan't we? Shan't we? Shan't we?)

>> No.15156225
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15156225

>>15156187
oh, nice! even the edition i had which was filled with copious footnotes didn't mention that. You really are a repository of literary wisdom anon, thank you.

>> No.15156255

All the big major happenings seem to happen in April. This is indeed a cursed month where nothing good ever happens.