Thread replies: 44
Thread images: 3
2016-02-11 21:54:12 Post No. 7687205
Post No. 7687205
Greetings and goodevenings, /lit/. I would just like to bring to your attention this wonderfully crafted, beautifully composed sentence from The Tunnel. Enjoy, friends.
Whatever the world really is; whatever we share when we think we share something; whatever the truth turns out to be, including the possibility that the truth was turned out of this world like a disgraced daughter long ago; in short, whatever remains and acts with regularity and can be counted on, whatever that whatever is, Kohler: this much is true of it, even of the untruthful part, namely that reality permits us to believe anything or its opposite, as we wish, even both at the same time; it allows us to be stupid and willful and perverse and blind without any special penalty, to live in a daydream or a nightmare, as one drugged or drunk or worse, to follow religion, ideology, or myth, any half-baked scheme our wretched wants miscook; and while in our delusion, while traveling our dream streets day after day, and confessing our sins and sacrificing our virgins and circumcising our cocks and lighting candles in front of crudely colored crockery and cursing people who eat with spoons, sticks, fingers, differently from us, and killing those who have hair in their noses, or those who fail to fart after eating beans, or those who spit upon our sacred shadows, who refuse to banish their unclean women to the blood huts, as well as those who put vinegar in milk, chlorine in water, feet in shoes; even so, while our minds miscarry, we nevertheless fuck, we grow fat, we multiply; yes, that "out there," that it, that other, lets us make fools of ourselves and prosper; we can waltz while the world ends and worry about what will cure warts; but the wonder of it is, Kohler, that as heedless as we invariably are about consequences, we shall waltz to music by Strauss and Mozart, dance divinely on the edge of doom; the head cold of a Milton, the mist in Blake, can encourage the divinest poetry, inspire Dante; we can paint lies so allegorically belief will run to catch up, and create a culture out of sheer kookiness the eyes of others will envy, emulate, admire, adopt.