ITT: Lines that broke you.

[Anonymous No.13877181]

>It is true, I suppose, that nobody finds it exactly pleasant to be criticized or shouted at, but I see in the face of the human being raging at me a wild animal in its true colors, one more horrible than any lion, crocodile or dragon. People normally seem to be hiding this true nature, but an occasion will arise (as when an ox sedately ensconced in a grassy meadow suddenly lashes out with its tail to kill the horsefly on its flank) when anger makes them reveal in a flash human nature in all its horror. Seeing this happen has always induced in me a fear great enough to make my hair stand on end, and at the thought that this nature might be one of the prerequisites for survival as a human being, I have come close to despairing of myself.

[Anonymous No.13877440]

I wouldn't say it "broke me" but after reading this, I hat to close my notebook and smoke a cigarette.

I want a girlfriend so fucking badly. I feel so lonely and sad.

[Anonymous No.13877866]

“What did you expect?”

[Anonymous No.13877976]

>>13877181
>Of course. It's over since a long time, since the beginning. You will never represent, Raphael, an erotic dream of a young girl. You must take your part; such things are not for you. Anyway, it's already too late. The failure, Raphael, that you have known since your adolescence, the frustration that has been chasing you since the age of thirteen will leave in you an indelible trace. Even assuming that you can now have women - which, frankly, I do not think - it will not be enough; nothing will ever be enough. You will always be orphaned by those teenage loves you have not known. In you, the wound is already painful; it will become more and more so. An atrocious bitterness, without remission, will eventually fill your heart. There will be no redemption or deliverance for you. This is it.

[Anonymous No.13878384]

bump

[Anonymous No.13878432]

>>13877866
Never read it, what's the context?

[Anonymous No.13878446]

>>13877976
sauce anon

[Anonymous No.13878457]

>>13878446
Atomised by Houellebecq

[Anonymous No.13878466]

>>13877976
stupid nonsense

[Anonymous No.13878475]

>>13878457
No, it's from Whatever by Houellebecq

[Anonymous No.13878488]

>>13878475
oh right

[Anonymous No.13878494]

>>13878446
>>13877976
the movie portrays this scene quite well
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coJjo3NmAEI

[Anonymous No.13878498]

>>13877440
Cringe and creaturepilled.

[Anonymous No.13878830]

>>13877866
Read this a while ago, what part was this?

[Anonymous No.13878837]

>>13877181
Was this from No Longer Human? If so holy shit do I need to read it.

[Anonymous No.13878841]

>>13878837
>Was this from No Longer Human?
Yes

[Anonymous No.13878854]

>>13877181
>'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'

[Anonymous No.13878926]

Bumping for blackpills and masochism

[Anonymous No.13878931]

>>13878854
kek

[Anonymous No.13878937]

>he leaned and spat

[Anonymous No.13879007]

>Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?

[Anonymous No.13879123]

you betta

[Anonymous No.13879133]

>>13879123
Sauce?

[Anonymous No.13879142]

>Madness, mayhem, erotic vandalism, devastation of innumerable souls - while we scream and perish, History licks a finger and turns the page.

[Anonymous No.13879167]

>>13878854
Powerful stuff

[Anonymous No.13879261]

>>13879133
hi newfriend

[Anonymous No.13879282]

>>13879261
Cute, can you tell me the source now

[Anonymous No.13879395]

A painful case from Dubliners
>He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.

[Anonymous No.13879554]

>>13878494
great friend indeed

[Anonymous No.13879590]

>>13877976
the ironic thing is that adolescent loves are wildly unfulfilling at best and exceedingly painful and damaging at worst

[Anonymous No.13879646]

>>13877866
ow ow ow ow ow

[Anonymous No.13879726]

>>13877181
>have sex
So much became immediately clear

[Anonymous No.13879730]

>>13877181
>People normally seem to be hiding this true nature, but an occasion will arise (as when an ox sedately ensconced in a grassy meadow suddenly lashes out with its tail to kill the horsefly on its flank) when anger makes them reveal in a flash human nature in all its horror.

This is even more accurate if you understand how Japanese social networks work. The group mentality is basically god, and everyone is faking to some capacity to keep a peaceful pretense. When that pretense breaks however, all hell breaks loose. I related to this passage when I first read it in High School (in America). But after living in Japan for some years I now understand the true harshness of what he is talking about there.

[Anonymous No.13879744]

>>13877181
Easily the most depressing part of this book was the end, where his two 'friends' clearly don't get or give a damn about him,

[Anonymous No.13879760]

>>13877181
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

[Anonymous No.13879796]

>>13878854
if i spent my hard earned money and time reading a fantasy series and it did this shit i would unironically throw the book at the wall in autistic rage and punch my door repeatedly

[Anonymous No.13879818]

>>13878432
read it and enjoy the best novel of the 20th century

[Anonymous No.13879932]

>>13877866
someone edit wojak over his face

[Anonymous No.13879945]

>On this occasion I was too exhausted to ask myself the question I had asked so many thousands of times before : Why is it wrong for me to stay just the way I am now? I was fed up with myself and, for all my chastity, was ruining my body. I had thought that with "earnestness"(what a touching thought!) I too could escape from my childish state. It was as though I had not yet realized that what I was now disgusted with was my true self, was clearly a part of my true life; it was as though I believed instead that these had been years of dreaming, from which I would now turn to "real life." I was feeling the urge to begin living. To begin living my true life? Even if it was to be pure masquerade and not my life at all, still the time had come when I must make a start, must drag my heavy feet forward.

[Anonymous No.13879966]

>>13877440
that reads like a woman's writing
3/10

[Anonymous No.13879971]

>>13879818
>read it and enjoy the best novel of the 20th century
just STFU

[Anonymous No.13880013]

>>13878937
What's this from?

[Anonymous No.13880043]

>>13880013
Blood Meridian

[Anonymous No.13880151]

>>13877181
>“I am alone in this world you see. Floating aimlessly from one distraction to the next. Whether I live a noble life or become a scoundrel, it doesn’t truly matter does it? I will go on lamenting and writhing all the same. I am but a specter lost in temporality. What difference would it make if I was born generations ago? A faceless corpse washed up on the beaches of Normandy? Would that satisfy my desires? I was that man, that man was me and another man will be me. You understand? We are abominations who reside on the edge of existence. Being unwanted or loathed by humanity would do us too great a service, we simply do not register, we do not exist.”

[Anonymous No.13880253]

No one ever thinks about you.
Your mom is the only exception and she's just concerned with how much of loser you turned into.
She stops washing dishes sometimes,grabs the edge of sink for support and just stares at the floor rocking back on her heels slowly trying to put blame on her self ,her working schedule,were you were raised,your school ,your father...
she tries to figure out why you cant be successful in any facet of life; socially ,professionally or emotionally.She tortures herself over it because you don't .She thought you were special but you are okay with your mediocrity ,that's the worst thing for her .
But she is your mother so in some major way it's her fault.
That's what will end up killing her.The failure as a mother,a guide, a protector. She couldn't protect you from your own apathy.
You were always somehow skilled at verbal and English but she coddled you too much so you felt superior to working hard on anything and thus never had the grades or work ethic to succeed .
That superiority complex slowly turned into feeling outcast and bitter.
You are indignantly resigned to being alone but right before you go to sleep every night fantasized about changing.
You imagine getting in shape,getting a good job and really making an effort at making friends,getting a gf,following your ambitions of being creative.You are not going to live like this anymore.Things can be different.You had potential.People told you that once ,it must still be true ???
but then you jerk off and go to sleep. you used those fantasies to soothe your deep discontent for just long enough to delude yourself into sleep.Like an alcoholic and his discount gin,you tell your self that intricate story of your resurrection.
Tomorrow the cycle start all over again just like it always will.
This is how exactly your life will be when you're 50.
This is how your life will be right before you die

[Anonymous No.13880347]

Not broke per se, but I did find it to be very poignant.
>The Kali-Yuga happens to people you love. You see the inner shape, the real one, when they’re just walking away across the room with their backs to you, you see their secret faces when they’re alone, and you see that they’re trudging, their shoulders hunched and rounded under the burden, their faces baffled and bewildered, almost muttering, but still defiant, still determined, because they’re human, and their demand, their consciousness of birthright, is ineffaceable, ineradicable. The divine imprint. His image. And you think they haven’t got a chance, but then again you can’t really know. God alone knows their fate. It happens to the people you love. That’s what breaks your heart. Breaks your heart.

[Anonymous No.13880654]

>>13878854
This is unironically good.

[Anonymous No.13880864]

>>13880253
Same

[Anonymous No.13880867]

>The soldiers forced him to his knees and I lifted my sword, forever blotting out the sun.

[Anonymous No.13880899]

>>13880253
BASED

[Anonymous No.13880924]

>>13879945
Source?

[Anonymous No.13880932]

>>13880924
I googled slightly harder and found it

[Anonymous No.13881029]

>>13877976
Just wanted to post this. I unironically had to stop reading for a moment because it made me cry.

Since then I've become more comfortable with the thought that not everybody is meant to be in a relationship, and that for many, with establishing a family out of question, the only paths left open are either asceticism or suicide. I wish I could say wholeheartedly that its the former, but God knows I wouldn't be honest if I did.

[Anonymous No.13881942]

>>13880347
>$224
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[Anonymous No.13882136]

>>13880043
or All The Pretty Horses

[Anonymous No.13882208]

>>13877866
I can't feel any kind of sympathy for Stoner. He was the definition of a mediocre man. Nothing really happened in his life and then he died. I guess that is the whole point of the book, but something like Epitaph of a Small Winner does it in a better way.

[Anonymous No.13882218]

>>13881029
It better be a female who typed this

[Anonymous No.13882445]

What composite asymmetrical image in the mirror then attracted his attention?

The image of a solitary (ipsorelative) mutable (aliorelative) man.

Why solitary (ipsorelative)?

Brothers and sisters had he none,
Yet that man's father was his grandfather's son.

Why mutable (aliorelative)?

From infancy to maturity he had resembled his maternal procreatrix. From maturity to senility he would increasingly resemble his paternal creator.

[Anonymous No.13882447]

>>13881029
Are you sure a relationship is what you desire? I've essentially been thrown into what I'd characterize as my "dream come true"; this woman really is wonderful.
Yet I find myself only wanting to get the hell away from her, and not out of any fault of her own. It's quite pleasant at first, but it wanes. I am suffocated by the loss of "freedom", even though I had never once exercised my "freedom" in the past.
My epiphany has been that I will never be content with anything; I could have everything, and I would still ultimately have nothing. Suicide seems the only way to quiet it all.
The ideal relationship is not necessarily the answer. I truly revile myself for seeing things this way, and for yearning to throw away the woman who is perfect for me in every way. One could say that I'm being too obstinate and denying myself the edification that could be brought up if I were to step back and really look, look at the situation. But it's not as though I haven't anything to juxtapose this to; I've been utterly isolated in the past. I've spent time being what was pretty much a more grandiloquent version of an incel. I feel this way regardless. I feel guilty for holding this girl captive from someone else who could actually benefit from her (even though it is wholly of her own volition). And at the same time, I don't, because I think men tend be very misguided in thinking the ideal relationship to be their ambrosia.

[Anonymous No.13882451]

>>13882445
Also this from the same chapter, the entire section hits pretty hard:
What reflection concerning the irregular sequence of dates 1884, 1885, 1886, 1888, 1892, 1893, 1904 did Bloom make before their arrival at their destination?

He reflected that the progressive extension of the field of individual development and experience was regressively accompanied by a restriction of the converse domain of interindividual relations.

As in what ways?

From inexistence to existence he came to many and was as one received: existence with existence he was with any as any with any: from existence to nonexistence gone he would be by all as none perceived.

[Anonymous No.13882600]

>>13880151
source ?

[Anonymous No.13882875]

>Have I been cozened that I may come and die here dishonoured who might at least have ended valiantly before the doors of Nargathrond?

[Anonymous No.13882964]

>>13877181
> will arise (as when an ox sedately ensconced in a grassy meadow suddenly lashes out with its tail to kill the horsefly on its flank)
i hate writings like this, it feels like shit out of a YA novel

[Anonymous No.13882974]

>>13881942
I can hook you up with an epub as soon as I get home from class.

[Anonymous No.13883166]

>>13882600
A shitpost on /lit/

[Anonymous No.13883195]

>>13882974
Please do, anon

[Anonymous No.13883219]

>>13882447
>Are you sure a relationship is what you desire?

Nowadays, not really. I don't harbor fantasies of being understood and working through past traumas with my partner and such, because that's just not how women work and it would be unreasonable to expect them to deal with something like that anyway. I would sabotage it either way through either being too attached or too detached. I'm not even quite sure how relationships even work nowadays, like, how do they work? How do they form? Why do they form? What do they do? What are they for?

I also don't entertain the fantasy of a women being able to love anyone besides their children.

>>13882218
Negative.

[Anonymous No.13883243]

itt: losers

[Anonymous No.13883263]

>>13877181

>And perchance the whole secret of [youth's] charm consists not in the power to do everything, but in the possibility of thinking that thou wilt do everything—consists precisely in the fact that thou scatterest to the winds thy powers which thou hast not understood how to employ in any other way,—in the fact that each one of us seriously regards himself as a prodigal, seriously assumes that he has a right to say: “Oh, what could I not have done, had I not wasted my time!”

[Anonymous No.13883271]

>>13883263
It's from Turgenev's 'First Love'

[Anonymous No.13883321]

>>13877181
>You did it on purpose
The fear of been unmasked is much more scary than find out how the others really are.

[Anonymous No.13883358]

Did you ever really think about that joker quote about how when it comes down to it civilized people will eat each other? I can tell you personally that when the cards are down nothing else matters besides personal survival, people are selfish, and practically animals.

[Anonymous No.13883447]

>>13879282
at a guess I think just by content this is the unabomber book

[Anonymous No.13883523]

Isn’t it pretty to think so?

[Anonymous No.13883550]

Why has /lit/ become so depressive over the last few months?
I feel like half of you folks are only one bad week away from a suicide attempt?

[Anonymous No.13883587]

>There in its nasty, stinking, underground home our insulted, crushed and ridiculed mouse promptly becomes absorbed in cold, malignant and, above all, everlasting spite. For forty years together it will remember its injury down to the smallest, most ignominious details, and every time will add, of itself, details still more ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting itself with its own imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, but yet it will recall it all, it will go over and over every detail, it will invent unheard of things against itself, pretending that those things might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will begin to revenge itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind the stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right to vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all its efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more than he on whom it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself. On its deathbed it will recall it all over again, with interest accumulated over all the years and ...

[Anonymous No.13883588]

>>13883550
Lurk more.

[Anonymous No.13883696]

>>13879760
Damn I’ve got to read Howl

[Anonymous No.13883714]

>>13883550
Increased social isolation and alienation due to the proliferation of the internet. At least back in the day people would have to call you an autistic retard in person.

[Anonymous No.13883744]

>>13877181
>He touched his heart but it did not beat, nor did he lift his eyes again.

[Anonymous No.13883749]

>>13882208
I liked Stoner but Epitaph is fucking based

[Anonymous No.13883759]

>I have felt ashamed all the time I've been writing this story; so it's hardly literature so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are expressly gathered together here, and what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a sort of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded of it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life as an effort, almost as hard work, and we are all privately agreed that it is better in books.

[Anonymous No.13883762]

>>13879142
>A Klee painting named ‘Angelus Novus’ shows an angel looking as though he is about to move away from something he is fixedly contemplating. His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing in from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such a violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress.

[Anonymous No.13883781]

>>13879142
holy shit that was dark

[Anonymous No.13883801]

>I work for someone else, I rent my apartment from someone else, there's nothing for my son to inherit. I have no craft to teach him, I haven't a clue what he might do when he's older. By the time he grows up, the rules I lived by will have no value -he will live in another universe. If a man accepts the fact that everything must change, then he accepts that life is reduced to nothing more than the sum of his own experience; past and future generations mean nothing to him. That's how we live now.
...
>Contemporary consciousness is no longer equipped to deal with our mortality. Never in any other time, or any other civilization, have people thought so much or so constantly about aging. Each individual has a simple view of the future: a time will come when the sum of pleasures that life has left to offer is outweighed by the sum of pain (one can actually feel the meter ticking, and it ticks always in the same direction). This weighing up of pleasure and pain, which everyone is forced to make sooner or later, leads logically, at a certain age, to suicide.

[Anonymous No.13883815]

all the snowden shit in catch-22

[Anonymous No.13883850]

>>13883781
Read Theses on the Philosophy of History and the Dialectic of Enlightenment it gets a lot darker.

[Anonymous No.13884060]

>>13879730
>This is even more accurate if you understand how Japanese social networks work. The group mentality is basically god, and everyone is faking to some capacity to keep a peaceful pretense. When that pretense breaks however, all hell breaks loose.
This gives Evangelion a whole new level of depth.

[Anonymous No.13884089]

>>13877181
>the meek shall inherit the earth

[Anonymous No.13884116]

>Now common soldiers strolled through the park, gently swinging the calloused hands of their housemaid sweethearts - hands that fitted snugly in their own thick palms. From this coarseness something sweet might yet be born. Little parlour maids, buxom cooks and sluttish Soldier-Suzies in grubby dresses came arm in arm with these rough peasant lads who'd curse in the barracks, be clouted and clapped in irons by their sergeants, but now ambled along quite harmlessly.
>Their blue eyes were glazed with dumb delight, caring about nothing, no one. Their boyish faces and pug noses red with schnapps, they looked like lost orphans, wandering dreamily through some enchanted garden of love, the women leading them onwards. Every now and then the couples stopped and gazed deep into one another's eyes. They sat down on wooden benches near the bushes, waiting for it to grow completely dark.
>How squalid it all was, here and at the theatre too, among the shabby props and decorations. There was no justice in the world, no justice anywhere. Everything was meaningless. Nothing mattered at all.
>Akos reeled with hatred, staring at the couples with an open mouth.

[Anonymous No.13884135]

>>13877181
Why is anger the "true color" of human nature, rather than the incredible conscious will to suppress our negative feelings because we know they're destructive? Lashing out in anger is a failure of being human, not the true nature of it.

[Anonymous No.13884151]

>>13877976
I don't think i fully understand this quote. Is he saying that if you aren't someone's first love at a very young age you're missing out or if you're not attractive you will never be the man young women fantasies about.

[Anonymous No.13884165]

>>13879590
Nearly all genuine instances of romantic love arise in adolescence or earlier. Later in life "love" is mostly an utilitarian decision, shackled by the economic calculus of adulthood.

[Anonymous No.13884173]

>>13877181
>Jesus wept

[Anonymous No.13884244]

"...unwilling even to will any longer"

[Anonymous No.13884301]

>Lovers for a spring, strangers in eternity.

[Anonymous No.13884335]

>>13884151
He is saying that some men are just simply undesirable to women through no fault of their own, which causes them to miss the formative experiences that help people have healthy, fulfilling relationships into adulthood. He, as a low-value man, is destined to never experience being truly desired by a woman, and lacking such profoundly aspired aspect of the male experience will leave him forever empty.

[Anonymous No.13884348]

>>13884335
that's so close to what i post in my self pity r9k posts that i'am kind of scared. Does he also write about the brutal self lashing that are your own thoughts

[Anonymous No.13884382]

«Et si je lève les yeux vers le miroir qui me renvoie mon image, je vois au clair de lune un homme jeté dans l’existence comme un épouvantail dans un poirier.»

Joë Bousquet, Il ne fait pas assez noir

[Anonymous No.13884395]

>>13884348
Houllebecq's narration is essentially the brutal self lashing of his own thoughts, which he writes as though they are immutable laws of the world. There is little difference between his protagonists' voices and his narrative voice

[Anonymous No.13884404]

>>13884395
I guess i found my spirit animal, i'am putting him on my list of people i should read

[Anonymous No.13884406]

>>13883550
that's because I am lol

[Anonymous No.13884448]

>>13883195
https://mega.nz/#F!4pEmgaBS!IR5WhM6ZRu5PnRR5XVfcVQ

[Anonymous No.13884453]

>>13883550
>I feel like half of you folks are only one bad week away from a suicide attempt?
Not really.
My whole life has been a series of bad weeks, yet I haven't killed myself.

[Anonymous No.13884477]

"This was one of the things he liked about men: their relational minimalism, their gender-based realization that the cupboard of life, emotionally speaking, was pretty near bare. There wasn't that tireless, irksome, bright-eyed hope women kept fluttering at you."
Chandler, the big sleep

[Anonymous No.13884513]

>Once upon a time, when I looked at my son or daughter I saw myself, and I felt great joy; I melted into the eternal nature of things, the timelessness that is Heaven and human reality. I knew myself as the manifestation in time of something that is timeless, exemplary, a celestial Form, like my son or daughter, and I knew that all was well and all is well in this universe. I ‘saw that it was good’, as God did in the Beginning. The generations of humanity spoke to me of eternity, of Heaven. I saw that we need only keep the faith with the Original of ourselves, the divine Form, identify ourselves with the immortal Person, the Pattern of Humanity, need only discover that we were that Person: achieve that identity and be immortal ourselves. All this is eternal, I knew, this great Life, this world, this Earth and we upon it, it never ends, it will never end, its repetition in time is but the recurring images of its eternity in Heaven, birth and death, joy and sorrow, summer and winter, the sun and the stars, the rain and the rainbow, myself and the rest of us, there is eternal return.
>And this last phrase, these intimations, summon to mind now the great work of Mircea Eliade. But before enlisting his luminous attendance, I want to evoke the contemporary counterpart to this ‘remembrance’. You already know it.
1/?

[Anonymous No.13884523]

>>13884513
>Now, when I look at my son or daughter, I do not see myself: I see my end, myself as an end, without sanction, affirmation or validation of archetype, purely contingent, connected to and deriving from nothing but arbitrary inorganic circumstance, ‘cut off’ from something I can sense but cannot name, glimpse but cannot grasp. In my son or daughter I see something increasingly inscrutable, novel, of unknown destiny; I look through narrowed eyes, bemused, increasingly indifferent as the distance between us widens, feeling sometimes bad about that but recognizing with sober resignation that since their world is not mine I really haven’t much to offer them other than a ‘positive attitude’ toward their unreachable unprecedented lives and an uncritical love that seems trapped in the past, the same kind of love I loved them with when they were children, and therefore increasingly formal. The proper unfolding of the stages of inter-generational relationship depends upon the continuity and invariability of identities and setting, until in my son or daughter I see and love myself: and what that love felt like, what that unfolding felt like, we can only guess. When I was archaic, when I was human, I was exemplary: I was one with changeless Being, with the Real, with the simple invulnerable rock-bottom nature of things, and perceived as such by my children, or as reprehensible for departing from that proper nature, and as such I saw them, and...
2/?

[Anonymous No.13884529]

>>13884523
>...trained them, and taught them the immemorial ways and means, the initiatory secrets, the answers, and as we each unfolded according to the same pattern we were like two people walking along the same Path, one ahead of the other, a Path trodden by all since the Beginning, the good and true Path, and looking back and forth at each other as we walked, one for guidance and one with encouragement, from the same eternal landmarks and milestones: our relation to each other was itself a Path, one that we walked together, side by side. But now I am a moment in serial transience, as they are, having no relationship with what preceded or follows other than through a mechanistic, hence meaningless, causality; or even less: I am, as they will be, a ‘part’ which is no longer being manufactured, obsolete, like something that simply appeared, ‘popped into view’, then vanished, ‘popped out of sight’: like one of the countless split-second images that flash across the screen in the twenty seconds of a high-tech television commercial: as meaningless, as disconnected, even as contemptible, and nothing more, because there is nothing more, because in the career and lifestyle and experience of historical humanity there is nothing behind the transience, no exemplary celestial pattern, no sanctified archetype, and nothing within it, no ecstatic self-recognition of the immortal soul, and no one home, because only the timeless is real. And yet we are still saved, even now, in this state, still the immortal Self, even here, because Mercy, we are taught and know in our hearts, is infinite and eternal. ‘The Reality that pervades the universe is indestructible, O Arjuna,’ be it Brahman Supreme, or the Void ofPrajna, or the God of the Faiths, be it the Word which was in the Beginning, the Name which is hallowed, or OM, the Pranava, the Supreme Syllable of Mandukya, be it Nirvana, Paramatman or the Tao of Heaven and Earth, be it Satchidananda which is Existence-Consciousness-Bliss Absolute, or Love or the Eternal Beloved or the One that is the All that is the Truth, be it the Immortal Dharma or the Light of Lights or the Heart: ‘Truth is One: the sages call it by many Names.’ And Tat Tvam Asi: That art Thou. We cannot sink below the reach of Grace. What we lose on Earth is recovered in Heaven. But until that recovery our loss was real, and we were estranged, and we suffered.
3/3

[Anonymous No.13884579]

>>13884513
>>13884523
>>13884529
seems to have the same basic sentiment as
>>13883801

[Anonymous No.13885184]

>>13882447
Do you know any books that relate to this?

[Anonymous No.13885190]

>>13878830
This was last chapter or two, while he’s lying on his deathbed

[Anonymous No.13885269]

I just started reading Norwegian Wood the other day and the first chapter just absolutely broke me. Such an earnest description of being in love with someone, and the fact that I had never felt anything like that killed me. I had never wanted a relationship before, but suddenly there's this pain inside me and I hate it.

I got a tinder and I'm talking to this girl on it but I'm not sure if it's going anywhere. Here's hoping.

[Anonymous No.13885375]

>>13882208
>did what he loved his entire life
>got to teach the classes on his pet subjects
>had a great romance with someone whos love for him was reaffirmed years later

[Anonymous No.13885392]

>Now at last there is no one but us. No Creator, no Creation. Nothing to worship. Nothing beyond us, nothing containing us, nothing within us but tissues, organs and bones, nothing we must flow with or submit to or accept with patient serenity as our appointed dispensation. We create ourselves now. We are our History, and History is what we make. Our own, and the Earth’s as well. We determine where and whether the rivers will flow, the composition of the oceans and the atmosphere, the length of the seasons, the population of all creatures, their survival or extinction. The temperature of the planet. The wavelengths of sunlight. We are Power. Our final state of being is Power. Power and Terror.

[Anonymous No.13885602]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NehH-K42Y38

[Anonymous No.13885616]

>>13877976
Came here to post this

[Anonymous No.13885645]

>>13882447
Stay with her anon, trust me on this

[Anonymous No.13885657]

>There has been many a girl who became unhappy in love, but after all she became so, Sarah was so before she became so. It is hard not to find the man to whom one can surrender oneself devotedly, but it is unspeakably hard not to be able to surrender oneself.
In the context of Soren and Regine this cut me deep.

[Anonymous No.13885658]

>>13880253
this is why I've swornn to kill myself at 25 (less than 3 years now) if I'm still like this

[Anonymous No.13885665]

>>13879590
I'd give my right arm for this unsatisfactory experience Desu

[Anonymous No.13885702]

>>13883550
This has been my lifeline for 6 years (22 now)
I still wanna kill myself everyday and I've yet to get to any contrary stimuli. Usually I like to thin that I'll by a gun and kill an awful politician and then myself.
In fact I'm certain I'll be able to do this if my life continues to be this way.

[Anonymous No.13885714]

>>13877440
Take mine, I fucking hate it

[Anonymous No.13885726]

>God's only excuse is madness

[Anonymous No.13885733]

>>13884135
because everything else is equally fucking rotten. why not shoot up a school if the victims are all a bunch of thoughtless retards and would-be rapists?

[Anonymous No.13885756]

>>13877181
Easily one of my favourite line in the book. Encapsulates a feeling I never thought I would see described.

[Anonymous No.13885782]

>>13885756
Which book is it?

[Anonymous No.13885791]

>>13885782
No Longer Human

[Anonymous No.13885846]

>>13877181
> “I wonder,” he said, “if anyone’ll see me?”
This whole book is beautify written

[Anonymous No.13885863]

>>13878494
the best scene is when he slaps the fuck out of that bitch

[Anonymous No.13885873]

>>13882447
Try to work out on this with someone. Don't be a stupid, you'll regret. I was exactly on the same situation and I ended up leaving her. Guess what? The asshole trying to restore the relation was me, not her, after a few months. Now she enjoys life, hangs out with various guys, and I'm fucked. But I realize we could have enjoyed life together if not for me. Now I'm like a mega incel who can't talk with any other woman. Don't be me anon, seriously. If you need to talk though send me a discord: qwertyuiop#9189

[Anonymous No.13885972]

>>13880253
You should read about David Berman, dude just killed himself at 50 something years old cause he could never escape that mental hellscape, despite being a somewhat accomplished musician and poet. Seek therapy or drug addiction

[Anonymous No.13885973]

>>13879282
Harassment Architecture by Mike Ma

[Anonymous No.13885976]

>>13879945
This quote tricked me into reading 100 pages of Confessions of a Mask. I thought it would be relatable. Turns out Mishima is really fucked up in the head, and nothing written really gave me any food for thought, at least nothing I hadn’t felt before that wasn’t sick perverse shit.

[Anonymous No.13886153]

>>13877976
I was going to post this

[Anonymous No.13886296]

>>13885972
So is being a loser a state of mind or a lifestyle?

[Anonymous No.13886373]

>>13880253
Source? You got me to a T. Scarily accurate until about 6 months ago. It took a tragedy to wrest me from that life. I had forgotten about it until this passage. Great reminder never to fall back.

[Anonymous No.13886389]

>>13880253

[Anonymous No.13886496]

>>13878854
>t. Every Holocaust "Survivor"

[Anonymous No.13886621]

>This joy was used up a long time ago.

Nausea by Sartre

Dont think its a good idea to read about a depressed man while depressed...

[Anonymous No.13886666]

>>13880867
Fug, I really need to read BOTNS.

[Anonymous No.13886754]

For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which, in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and even grandchildren) and turns it back: sending the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides.

And this harem, once admitted, works against his ever getting out and really uniting with a real woman. For the harem is always accessible, always subservient, calls for no sacrifice or adjustments, and can be endowed with erotic and psychological attractions which no real woman can rival.

Among these shadowy brides he is always adored, always the perfect lover: no demand is made on his unselfishness, no mortification is ever imposed on his vanity. In the end, they become merely the medium through which he increasingly adores himself.

[Anonymous No.13886912]

>>13884448
Thanks!

[Anonymous No.13886964]

>>13880253
is there an opposite version where the mother is okay with mediocrity but you are not, but still end up as a loser because of shortcomings stemming from your mother and her sorrow is why can't you stop beating yourself up so much

[Anonymous No.13888217]

bumping

[Anonymous No.13888989]

>>13877976
Houellebecq is a genius

[Anonymous No.13889441]

>>13885733
>>13884135
>>13877181
the high of pessimism basically

[Anonymous No.13890131]

>>13884244
What's this from?

[Anonymous No.13890531]

>>13877181
>He was a gallant gentleman.

[Anonymous No.13890824]

Verás un mar de piedras
Verás margaritas en el mar
Verás un Dios de hambre
Verás el hambre
Verás figuras como flores
Verás un desierto
Verás el mar en el desierto
Verás tu odio
Verás un país de sed
Verás acantilados de agua
Verás nombres en fuga
Verás la sed
Verás amores en fuga
Verás el poco amor
Verás flores como piedras
Verás sus ojos en fuga
Verás cumbres
Verás margaritas en las cumbres
Verás un día blanco
Verás que se va
Verás no ver
Y llorarás

it hasn't been translated, right?

[Anonymous No.13890887]

>>13890824
Actually kind of interesting. Who's this by?
t. learned spanish in high school

[Anonymous No.13890921]

>>13890887
Raúl Zurita, chilean poet

[Anonymous No.13891013]

>>13890921
danke schön

[Anonymous No.13891023]

>>13884151
>>13884151
the focus was on the fact that his sexless adolescence caused him pain. sour grapes about being a sperg in high school only get worse with time. the speaker is lecturing this guy to get over it or he'll be bitter and hopeless.

the speaker tries to help raphael by telling him that it could not have been any other way. there is no ideal world that you failed to inhabit by making that decision, and neither are there any alternatives to the life you currently live. what happened was the best that could have happened considering your spergness and the life you were living at the time.

>>13884165
"genuine" "romantic" "love" in adolescence, dear christ listen to this pseud.

the single parent crisis is the result of this belief

[Anonymous No.13891039]

>>13890921
I meet him.

Weird fellow.

>>13891023
The single parent crisis is caused by divorce being legal, my country didn't had divorce and most of us had two parents.

[Anonymous No.13891077]

>>13891039
How long ago was that? he's dealing with parkinson y'know

[Anonymous No.13891104]

>>13891039
fallacious reasoning there. divorce being legal or illegal has little to do with love. the fact that the rate of divorce is so high, especially among young couples, would indicate that "adolescent love" is neither pure nor an ideal form of love.

also your country sounds like an absolute shithole.

[Anonymous No.13891161]

>>13883762
I like this quote, but I'll never know how Benjamin came up with it just from looking at that retarded gremlin.

[Anonymous No.13891196]

Reading this after finishing the book
>Mrs. “Richard F. Schiller” died in childbed, giving birth to a stillborn girl, on Christmas Day 1952, in Gray Star, a settlement in the remotest Northwest.

[Anonymous No.13891214]

>>13891196
>“He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.”

[Anonymous No.13891222]

>>13883801
>If a man accepts the fact that everything must change, then he accepts that life is reduced to nothing more than the sum of his own experience; past and future generations mean nothing to him. That's how we live now.
are you sure

[Anonymous No.13891229]

>>13891196
>>13891214

[Anonymous No.13891664]

>>13891196
>>13891214
>>13891229
FUCK I JUST WANTED THEM TO BE HAPPY WHY CANT WE HAVE NICE THINGS FUCK YOU NABOKOV

[Anonymous No.13891728]

>>13877866
https://youtu.be/dgUbRpdUN1w

[Anonymous No.13892024]

>>13891023
Based retard

[Anonymous No.13892065]

Someone post the image from Omensetters luck

[Anonymous No.13892739]

>>13884382
>« Et si je lève les yeux vers le miroir qui me renvoie mon image, je vois au clair de lune un homme jeté dans l’existence comme un épouvantail dans un poirier. »
Putain les mecs…

[Anonymous No.13892794]

>>13891196
i remember rereading the prologue out of curiosity a couple of days after finishing the book. that line hit me pretty fucking hard too. it's well done that you read it first but have no fucking clue what it means before finishing the book. man, she was turning her life around, got married, was pregnant, they moved far away to start anew, HH had given them a bunch of money... didn't he also said something like "i hope you have a son"? and then she dies at like 17 after knowing her child is dead too.

[Anonymous No.13892799]

>>13892739
Yeah what's the thing with the pear tree?
It kind of stands out for me in the line, why a pear tree? Do they have a specific shape or some connotation that makes it more significant?

[Anonymous No.13892855]

>>13892799
Probablement ce côté rabougri, moreso than any possible symbolism or what have you...

[Anonymous No.13892911]

>>13892855
Hmm could be.
But this is also a pear tree.

[Anonymous No.13892924]

>>13877181
>The scar had not pained Harry for 19 years. All was well.

[Anonymous No.13892976]

>>13885658
no,don't do this fren, its never too late if you are alive. Just talk to Him for a while

[Anonymous No.13893008]

>>13892924
>then his scar started hurting again n sheeit cuz voldemort had a secret daughter all along!

[Anonymous No.13893055]

>>13890131
>“Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate with one leap, with a death-leap; a poor ignorant weariness, unwilling even to will any longer: that created all Gods and backworlds.”

Near the beginning of TSZ, I should've quoted it in full. Whenever I find myself wanting an easy solution and being resentful I just remember this contradiction, life never grants us anything simple. Most of us could probably relate to or think we have this "poor ignorant weariness". Everyday is just utterly senseless, blurred and lacking but that's of my creation and nothing will change without hard work. That's why Nietzsche says let them perish because their soul from the very bottom wants death.

[Anonymous No.13893080]

>>13893008

[Anonymous No.13893172]

>>13877976
i think it's dangerous to romanticize and identify with this sentiment, ressentiment in particular. and yet, it seems so American (or perhaps 'modern') to me, so hopelessly intermingled with the American man that i can only gawk at the whole thing. i may be reading out of context, but the whole thing reads like the fantasy of a lonely and, specifically, ugly, man. a man who blames his loneliness on his ugliness. a man who wants to be God with but the equipment of an animal, and who's fixated on his lack of sexual edification as a fall from godhood at the same time an inevitable tragedy for someone born ugly in a 'world' that values anything but. the sexualization from a pubescent is 'innocent' and thus 'pure', providing remunerations for existence, but for the ugly man it exists only in the negative - as absence. at least the lonely, ugly man has justification for his loneliness. it brings him despair, but a despair he understands. better the devil you know. this devil has granted the wish - a reason for despair to justify malaise, inaction, death and its surrogates.

[Anonymous No.13893691]

>>13884301
Source for this one anon?

[Anonymous No.13895017]

>>13877181
The main character was retarded autistic and spoiled.

[Anonymous No.13895607]

>>13884335
Well no, its that the lack of formative experience means that adult relationships become unsatisfying, not impossible.

[Anonymous No.13895798]

>He really lives who is made use of by many; he really lives who makes use of himself. Those men, however, who creep into a hole and grow torpid are no better off in their homes than if they were in their tombs. Right there on the marble lintel of the house of such a man you may inscribe his name, for he has died before he is dead.

[Anonymous No.13895814]

>>13877181
I can't remember the specific line, but essentially the entirety of pic related was just a depressing slog through unfulfilled dreams, a lack of love, acceptance that the world isn't fair and that plenty of people would have just been better off never being born.

[Anonymous No.13896143]

>>13895798
Seneca?

[Anonymous No.13896318]

>>13885269
Hope it goes well for you, anon.

[Anonymous No.13896377]

>Love has its childishness; other passions have pettiness. Shame on the passions that make us petty; honour to the one that makes us a child! A strange thing has happened, do you know? I am in darkness. There is a person who, departing, took away the sun. Oh, to lie side by side in the same tomb and now and then caress with a finger-tip in the shades, that will do for my eternity! You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love is to live by it.

[Anonymous No.13896424]

>>13877181
>So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind me of. Lff! So soft this morning, ours. Yes. Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair! If I seen him bearing down on me now under whitespread wings like he'd come from Arkangels, I sink I'd die down over his feet, humbly dumbly, only to washup. Yes, tid. There's where. First. We pass through grass behush the bush to. Whish! A gull. Gulls. Far calls. Coming, far! End here. Us then. Finn, again!

Something about this passage nearly brings me to tears every time I read it

[Anonymous No.13896495]

>>13883523
Beat me to it

[Anonymous No.13896887]

>>13877181

[Anonymous No.13896902]

This broke the shit out of me
Only someone who has read the book will understand

[Anonymous No.13896970]

And above all, do not be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all… You have known for a long time what you must do. You have sense enough: don't give way to drunkenness and incontinence of speech; don't give way to sensual lust; and, above all, to the love of money. And close your taverns. If you can't close all, at least two or three.
And, above all—don't lie.

And above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order tooccupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than any one. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offense,isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill—he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offense, and will revel in his resentmenttill he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness. But get up, sit down, I beg you. All this, too, is deceitful posturing..

[Anonymous No.13897001]

>>13896970
>And above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.

This is a quote that really didn't hit me much when I read TBK for the first time as a teenager but when I grew up and re-read it it really hit hard. I love this quote a lot too:

>For I'm a Karamazov. For when I do leap into the pit, I go headlong with my heels up, and am pleased to be falling in that degrading attitude, and pride myself upon it. And in the very depths of that degradation I begin a hymn of praise. Let me be accursed. Let me be vile and base, only let me kiss the hem of the veil in which my God is shrouded. Though I may be following the devil, I am Thy son, O Lord, and I love Thee, and I feel the joy without which the world cannot stand.

[Anonymous No.13897063]

The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their official wit permitted; told in his presence various stories concocted about him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declared that she beat him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bits of paper over his head, calling them snow. But Akakiy Akakievitch answered not a word, any more than if there had been no one there besides himself. It even had no effect upon his work: amid all these annoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if the joking became wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his hand and prevented his attending to his work, he would exclaim, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?" And there was something strange in the words and the voice in which they were uttered. There was in it something which moved to pity; so much that one young man, a new-comer, who, taking pattern by the others, had permitted himself to make sport of Akakiy, suddenly stopped short, as though all about him had undergone a transformation, and presented itself in a different aspect. Some unseen force repelled him from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, on the supposition that they were well-bred and polite men. Long afterwards, in his gayest moments, there recurred to his mind the little official with the bald forehead, with his heart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?" In these moving words, other words resounded --"I am thy brother." And the young man covered his face with his hand; and many a time afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing how much inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is concealed beneath delicate, refined worldliness, and even, O God! in that man whom the world acknowledges as honourable and noble.