Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 1529. page

The Phenomenology of Spirit.

MY

>>9263126
Being and Nothingness

my dynabook desu

>>9262941
whats that memeio ?

>>9262953
the n°1 memeio of /lit/

>>9262907
I want to eat the asshole of the second girl from the left

>Hmm, I hear hiding in plain sight is a good trick

>>9262982
two and four would get a real good rimming. Would fuck all obviously. Aside from the tranny of course.

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>>9262823
English Modernism is the height of art

>>9262824
Literally who

Nebelaugen von dem Berg
Geht zur Frau, schickt ihn voran!
Geht dort einst der Zauberer?
Geb' den Augen des Wirts drum' herauf!

Die Faul' Sau geht auf den Berg
Mit Soldaten im Paar
Laugensarg beim Kamerad
Der soll auch ins Schild malen!

Are you trying to change the viewpoint of the person you are debating?

honestly am i the only one that thinks that /r/philosophy is basically the sophists that lived around the time of socrates personified?

the only care about formally presenting an argument that wisdom itself!

>>9262710

>Implying the sophists were the bad guys

Apollo pls.

Odgar was thirty-two and had been twice operated on for varicocele. He was ugly to look at and everybody liked his face. Odgar could never get it and it meant everything in the world to him. Every summer he was worse about it. It was pitiful. Odgar was awfully nice. He had been nicer to Nick than anybody ever had. Now Nick could get it if he wanted it. Odgar would kill himself, Nick thought, if he knew it. I wonder how he’d kill himself. He couldn’t think of Odgar dead. He probably wouldn’t do it. Still people did. It wasn’t just love. Odgar thought just love would do it. Odgar loved her enough, God knows. It was liking, and liking the body, and introducing the body, and persuading, and taking chances, and never frightening, and assuming about the other person, and always taking never asking, and gentleness and liking, and making liking and happiness, and joking and making people not afraid. And making it all right afterwards. It wasn’t loving. Loving was frightening. He, Nicholas Adams, could have what he wanted because of something in him. Maybe it did not last. Maybe he would lose it. He wished he could give it to Odgar, or tell Odgar about it. You couldn’t ever tell anybody about anything. Especially Odgar. No, not especially Odgar. Anybody, anywhere. That had always been his first mistake, talking. He had talked himself out of too many things. There ought to be something you could do for the Princeton, Yale and Harvard virgins, though. Why weren’t there any virgins in state universities? Coeducation maybe. They met girls who were out to marry and the girls helped them along and married them. What would become of fellows like Odgar and Harvey and Mike and all the rest? He didn’t know. He hadn’t lived long enough. They were the best people in the world. What became of them? How the hell could he know. How could he write like Hardy and Hamsun when he only knew ten years of life. He couldn’t. Wait till he was fifty.

In the dark he kneeled down and took a drink from the spring. He felt all right. He knew he was going to be a great writer. He knew things and they couldn’t touch him. Nobody could. Only he did not know enough things. That would come all right. He knew. The water was cold and made his eyes ache. He had swallowed too big a gulp. Like ice cream. That’s the way with drinking with your nose underwater. He’d better go swimming. Thinking was no good. It started and went on so. He walked down the road, past the car and the big warehouse on the left where apples and potatoes were loaded onto the boats in the fall, past the white-painted Bean house where they danced by lantern light sometimes on the hardwood floor, out on the dock to where they were swimming.

They were all swimming off the end of the dock. As Nick walked along the rough boards high above the water he heard the double protest of the long springboard and a splash. The water lapped below in the piles. That must be the Ghee, he thought. Kate came up out of the water like a seal and pulled herself up the ladder.

“It’s Wemedge,” she shouted to the others. “Come on in, Wemedge. It’s wonderful.”

“Hi, Wemedge,” said Odgar. “Boy it’s great.”

“Where’s Wemedge?” It was the Ghee, swimming far out.

“Is this man Wemedge a nonswimmer?” Bill’s voice very deep and bass over the water.

Nick felt good. It was fun to have people yell at you like that. He scuffed off his canvas shoes, pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his trousers. His bare feet felt the sandy planks of the dock. He ran very quickly out the yielding plank of the springboard, his toes shoved against the end of the board, he tightened and he was in the water, smoothly and deeply, with no consciousness of the dive. He had breathed in deeply as he took off and now went on and on through the water, holding his back arched, feet straight and trailing. Then he was on the surface, floating face down. He rolled over and opened his eyes. He did not care anything about swimming, only to dive and be underwater.

“How is it, Wemedge?” The Ghee was just behind him.

“Warm as piss,” Nick said.

He took a deep breath, took hold of his ankles with his hands, his knees under his chin, and sank slowly down into the water. It was warm at the top but he dropped quickly into cool, then cold. As he neared the bottom it was quite cold. Nick floated down gently against the bottom. It was marly and his toes hated it as he uncurled and shoved hard against it to come up to the air. It was strange coming up from underwater into the dark. Nick rested in the water, barely paddling and comfortable. Odgar and Kate were talking together up on the dock.

Have you ever swum in a sea where it was phosphorescent, Carl?”

“No.” Odgar’s voice was unnatural talking to Kate.

We might rub ourselves all over with matches, Nick thought. He took a deep breath, drew his knees up, clasped tight and sank, this time with his eyes open. He sank gently, first going off to one side, then sinking head first. It was no good. He could not see underwater in the dark. He was right to keep his eyes shut when he first dove in. It was funny about reactions like that. They weren’t always right, though. He did not go all the way down but straightened out and swam along and up through the cool, keeping just below the warm surface water. It was funny how much fun it was to swim underwater and how little fun there was in plain swimming. It was fun to swim on the surface in the ocean. That was the buoyancy. But there was the taste of the brine and the way it made you thirsty. Fresh water was better. Just like this on a hot night. He came up for air just under the projecting edge of the dock and climbed up the ladder.

“Oh, dive, Wemedge, will you?” Kate said. “Do a good dive.” They were sitting together on the dock leaning back against one of the big piles.

“Do a noiseless one, Wemedge,” Odgar said.

“All right.”

Nick, dripping, walked out on the springboard, remembering how to do the dive. Odgar and Kate watched him, black in the dark, standing at the end of the board, poise and dive as he had learned from watching a sea otter. In the water as he turned to come up to the air Nick thought, Gosh, if I could only have Kate down here. He came up in a rush to the surface, feeling water in his eyes and ears. He must have started to take a breath.

“It was perfect. Absolutely perfect,” Kate shouted from the dock.

my diary desu

>>9262573
Life on the Mississippi is high tier.

blood meridian cormac mccarthy

How badly did you screw up for it to come to this?

get some philosophy books. and definitely take the notebooks. seems like a great opportunity to write a diary.
i'm jealouse af. how can you afford thus?

SICP
Starting Strength

uh, yeah. letting your enemy fuck up first is like, basic warfare.

>>9262592
So far, Tokugawa is letting his allies join up with Ishido though; maybe a more active stance could push the odds in his favour sooner (Obviously assuming he wins in the end)

>>9262557

It's more that he is unable to act for the moment: ishido is holding family members of toranaga and other daimyos as hostages in his castle

>>9262508
Woops. Skip to (1:16)

>>9262508
It's great how this guy's online following insures he'll never be taken seriously.

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>>9262524
TRANSPHOBIC! PIECE OF SHIT! TRANSPHOBIC! PIECE OF SHIT!
TRANSPHOBIC! PIECE OF SHIT!

HP is a good book and Rowling will go down with the likes of King and Martin to be honest.

Twilight is just shit

Faggots and morons don't bring it up as much as HP.
#wow
#woah
People. usually, aren't going out of their way to shit on Harry Potter here.
There's no reason to even bother calling Twilight shit, it advertises itself as shit.

>>9262466
Because Twilight is already irrelevant and, more or less, forgotten about by everybody.
Annoying faggots are still talking about Hairy Pooper, though.

>>9262281
Provide fifty convincing heterogenous examples for this claim.

>>9262289
I'm not a philosopher I'm a scientist.

>>9262307
>There never was any disagreement in the history of science

>>9262191
Sextus. Vico too is fun and engrossing in a good /lit/ kind of way. A few (you) mention are easy; Kierkegaard a chore. Difficult, but the most rewarding, is Plotinus. Especially if youre a writer.

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>scholastics
>philosophy

For the history of Christian philosophy (presumably what you're studying here), start with Aristotle and Plotinus

I guess it depends on what angle you approach it from.

It mirroring the structure of a Greek Tragedy its more Modernist, since it pays homage to an existing literary tradition.

On the other hand its quite accessible on its own. It's very stylish, cinematic, entertaining and addictive. The Classical elements are fetishised in a kind of modern, sexy way.

So, neither?

postmodernism is evil, so you better hope it is the former, right?

>>9262107
If it's neither, then which classification does it fall under?

>>9262086
Yea

Do you like Robert Walser?

maybe, but I believe that you watching gook cartoons for girls a more plausible link

>only vague feelings of the sublime
try going to war or getting sucked out to sea by a wave or climbing in thin air or skating on thin ice. you need to experience real abject awesome fear for your being. then read the romantics.