Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 2812. page

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.
It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it’s all theatre. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But it’s night. He’s afraid of the way the glass will fall—soon—it will be a spectacle: the fall of a crystal palace. But coming down in total blackout, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.
Inside the carriage, which is built on several levels, he sits in velveteen darkness, with nothing to smoke, feeling metal nearer and farther rub and connect, steam escaping in puffs, a vibration in the carriage’s frame, a poising, an uneasiness, all the others pressed in around, feeble ones, second sheep, all out of luck and time: drunks, old veterans still in shock from ordnance 20 years obsolete, hustlers in city clothes, derelicts, exhausted women with more children than it seems could belong to anyone, stacked about among the rest of the things to be carried out to salvation. Only the nearer faces are visible at all, and at that only as half-silvered images in a view finder, green-stained VIP faces remembered behind bulletproof windows speeding through the city....
They have begun to move. They pass in line, out of the main station, out of downtown, and begin pushing into older and more desolate parts of the city. Is this the way out? Faces turn to the windows, but no one dares ask, not out loud. Rain comes down. No, this is not a disentanglement from, but a progressive knotting into—they go in under archways, secret entrances of rotted concrete that only looked like loops of an underpass... certain trestles of blackened wood have moved slowly by overhead, and the smells begun of coal from days far to the past, smells of naphtha winters, of Sundays when no traffic came through, of the coral-like and mysteriously vital growth, around the blind curves and out the lonely spurs, a sour smell of rolling-stock absence, of maturing rust, developing through those emptying days brilliant and deep, especially at dawn, with blue shadows to seal its passage, to try to bring events to Absolute Zero... and it is poorer the deeper they go... ruinous secret cities of poor, places whose names he has never heard... the walls break down, the roofs get fewer and so do the chances for light. The road, which ought to be opening out into a broader highway, instead has been getting narrower, more broken, cornering tighter and tighter until all at once, much too soon, they are under the final arch: brakes grab and spring terribly. It is a judgment from which there is no appeal.

It's about a 6 out of 10

The caravan has halted. It is the end of the line. All the evacuees are ordered out. They move slowly, but without resistance. Those marshaling them wear cockades the color of lead, and do not speak. It is some vast, very old and dark hotel, an iron extension of the track and switchery by which they have come here. . . . Globular lights, painted a dark green, hang from under the fancy iron eaves, unlit for centuries . . . the crowd moves without murmurs or coughing down corridors straight and functional as warehouse aisles . . . velvet black surfaces contain the movement: the smell is of old wood, of remote wings empty all this time just reopened to accommodate the rush of souls, of cold plaster where all the rats have died, only their ghosts, still as cave-painting, fixed stubborn and luminous in the walls . . . the evacuees are taken in lots, by elevator—a moving wood scaffold open on all sides, hoisted by old tarry ropes and cast-iron pulleys whose spokes are shaped like Ss. At each brown floor, passengers move on and off . . . thousands of these hushed rooms without light. . . .
Some wait alone, some share their invisible rooms with others. Invisible, yes, what do the furnishings matter, at this stage of things? Underfoot crunches the oldest of city dirt, last crystallizations of all the city had denied, threatened, lied to its children. Each has been hearing a voice, one he thought was talking only to him, say, “You didn’t really believe you’d be saved. Come, we all know who we are by now. No one was ever going to take the trouble to save you, old fellow. . . .”
There is no way out. Lie and wait, lie still and be quiet. Screaming holds across the sky. When it comes, will it come in darkness, or will it bring its own light? Will the light come before or after?
But it is already light. How long has it been light? All this while, light has come percolating in, along with the cold morning air flowing now across his nipples: it has begun to reveal an assortment of drunken wastrels, some in uniform and some not, clutching empty or near-empty bottles, here draped over a chair, there huddled into a cold fireplace, or sprawled on various divans, un-Hoovered rugs and chaise longues down the different levels of the enormous room, snoring and wheezing at many rhythms, in self-renewing chorus, as London light, winter and elastic light, grows between the faces of the mullioned windows, grows among the strata of last night’s smoke still hung, fading, from the waxed beams of the ceiling. All these horizontal here, these comrades in arms, look just as rosy as a bunch of Dutch peasants dreaming of their certain resurrection in the next few minutes.

It really depends on the kind of book you're reading, senpai.

When I read Rousseau's "The Social Contract", I went a little slower to make sure I picked up on philosophical points and whatnot.

When I read the Dresden Files, I blazed right through them.

>>8540959
It takes me 1 hour to read 20 pages

>>8540959
thats not a bad rate desu.

I wouldn't worry about it.

>>8540704
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bn9elWR13Z4

The wikipedia page for Irony explains it pretty well.

It isn't actually a difficult concept.

It encompasses verbal irony, dramatic irony, comic irony, sarcasm and something else.

Except I do know what irony is. I will agree that it's difficult to EXPLAIN what it means in a simple and easy manner.

I am an empty person and there is no character who could possibly remind me of myself

Werther, Edgar Linton, the guy from El Tunel, the guy from the underground notes. Any beta in literature

>>8540637

I'm just like Lenny from Of Mice and Men.

Intelligent. Nihilistic. And with a wicked sense of humour.

>>8540532
Stay away from it. It's PoC stuff SJWs wank about.

If you want to convince yourself, I suggest you should read Frantz Fanon.

Can't you use Google?

>>8540532
Stuff written after colonial rule ended. To put it very simply.

>>8540291
>tfw posting on 4chan instead of starting the first read of the day

>>8540291
Fuck off, /fit

>>8540291
>Putting your drink on top of a book

Fucking barbarian

A leathery egg-headed armadillo.

THIS IS YOUR DAILY REMINDER
THIS IS YOUR DAILY REMINDER TO PLUG IN YOUR BLENDERS, HEAT UP YOUR FLOTATION TANKS TO SKIN TEMP (35.5*C)

THE WEED HAS BEEN LIT AND IT'S TIME TO SLAM YOUR KALE SHAKES, TAKE A TOKE & MARK OFF YOUR CHECKLIST
TO POP YOUR:
ALPHA BRAIN
SHROOMTECH
KRILL & MCT OIL
PRIMATE CARE PILLS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22GjkJw0WXk <---- HIT PLAY NIGGA
>YOUR FEAR FACTOR THEME SONG ALARM BLASTS THROUGH YOUR HOUSE
>YOU INSTINCTIVELY JUMP INTO YOUR HOMEMADE OCTAGON, FITTED WITH BATTLE-ROPES AND A "WRECKING BALL" STYLE CHIMP KETTLEBELL ACTION COURSE
>AFTER YOUR INTENSE WORKOUT YOU CALL OVER BRIAN REDBAN USING TING BEFORE GETTING INTO YOUR ISOLATION SENSORY DEPRIVATION FLOTATION TANK AND PACKING YOUR MOUTH TO THE BRIM WITH POT BROWNIES FOLLOWED SHORTLY AFTERWARDS BY COCONUT WATER ENEMAS JUST AS THE DMT KICKS IN AS YOU LISTEN TO DUNCAN TRUSSEL AND GRAHAM HANCOCK HYPOTHESIZE THAT THE PYRAMIDS = ALIENS AND THE ARK OF THE COVENANT IS HIDDEN IN UGANDA

DUDE BOOOOM LMAO

DUDE KETTLEBELLS LITERALLY ENCRUSTED WITH WEED AND DUNKED IN MCT OIL AND THROWN OFF BUILDINGS FEAR FACTOR STYLE

>"BRENDAN SCHAUB JUST END IT ALL, I THINK YOU ARE A WORTHLESS FIGHTER AND I HATE YOU, BUT COME BACK ON THE PODCAST SO I CAN BLOW YOU THE FUCK OUT OF THE WATER AGAIN AND REDUCE YOU TO TEARS"

>"BRENDAN "FRASER" "FUCK MY SHIT UP" SCHAUB, JUST TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT. YOUR CAREER IS OVER. IT'S TIME FOR THE SMITH AND WESSON RETIREMENT PLAN"
Joe Rogan, 2015

>YOU ARE NOW PICTURING JOE ROGAN NAKED IN A FLOTATION TANK WITH A MOUTH FULL OF POT BROWNIES TRIPPING

Brought to you by SquareSpace©
cue the hempforce mustard

>>8540225
total pseud

>>8540221
I'm doing a masters on this very topic, but before I answer you need to tell me where you got this .gif.

>>8540231
from /mu/ iirc

>>8540247
Bullshit, I made this as paid work for an indie dev studio behind closed doors that went under. How did you get the polar bear?

>>8540096
Fahrenheit 451?

>>8540101
>search quote
>pose answer as a question

you're so smart! xDD!

>>8540127
>Do the thing the thread was made for
>Get shitposted at
Every day I hate this website a little bit more

>>8540044
Caring about binding is itself flagrantly petite bourgeoisie.

File: 8cf53c4ed629ccd0a9dcb69fd8cac9c5.jpg (40KB, 445x500px) Image search: [Google]

40KB, 445x500px

>>8540044
>caring about how you look

>>8540044
>>8540108
>>8540128
>being
lmaoing @ your lives

How do people on Adderall read differently than when they are sober?

File: muh lsat.png (13KB, 811x279px) Image search: [Google]

13KB, 811x279px

AMA.

Law school fucking sucks.

Practice meditating. Maintaining focus for ~5+ hours is the hardest part of the LSAT without question.

Get 100% on logic games because there is no excuse not to.

>>8540009
Logic games are the part I struggle with the most. I can diagram, but I take so damn long. Why do you say there is no excuse not to? How much easier was it taking it a second time, considering you did so much better?

not sure.

butt

>>8539861
>'she'

Agamemnon by Aeschylus.

>>8539852
Syrzia!

>>8539869
Wait, Agamemnon is the other way around;

So no one I guess...

ya have to read ulysses=20 times
Hahaha memes

>>8539759
i'm reading nobodaddy's children, a collection of 3 of his early novellas. it's quite interesting, but definitely far more comprehensible than zettelstraum

How to Light a Fire and Why

>>8539730
My diary, desu

Anything by John "I'll make teenage girls wet anyway I can" Green