/lit/ - Literature

>Footnotes are quite appealing for one never knows for certain when one might chance upon an elongated or even short stubby morsel of knowledge that is provocative with a certain discerning taste and subsequently a cause for further probing, insertion, reflection and question. A singular footnote of substance can be I suppose quite seductive in that it may not only offer an arch of intellectual support while being responsive to the body of the text above it and in some cases may actually transcend the flesh of that text in terms of the nature of what it unveils.

https://www.narrativepathsjournal.com/a-footnote-fetish-revisited-by-l-j-frank/

Damn

Hi /lit/. I'm looking for any good book about a character struggling in his life or living a depressive life but in the end he sees light or finds happinnes, maybe in death or something uplifting.
Now The Count of Monte Cristo comes to mind, but i'd like something more ethereal or modern or profound.

One of the first books I remember reading was about a group of kids who went underground to a world filled with green people. The green people had kidnapped one of the kids, so they had to go down there and disguise themselves by wearing green paint to pretend to be the green race. Does anyone know what book this was?

Recommend some Italian authors.

Hey /lit. Thank god I don't have to hear the "don't do it plea" from you. I've swallowed the entire pack of sleeping pills. I drank myself in some courage with my favourite coffee liquor. I quit smoking months ago, but I got myself a pack of cigarettes as well. The reason is long and boring, but please. I love Allen Ginsberg's Howl, Walt Whitman's Song of Myself, Allister Crowley, and Shakespeare. Please, share some fitting poetry. Preferably something suitable regarding acceptance or resignation of death. So that I may go peacefully and blissfully. You were all I ever really had /lit. Thank you.
>Pic related, what I took. I hope it works. My stomach hurts a little

Makes you think about the people in your life. And when I think, I think of Guénon(pbuh). If he were here now what would he say? He would say "Anon what's it about? What's life about... if you don't go through Kali Yuga as a Traditional man?". He'd say "Suck it up, do the time in this dark age. That made you what you are. That makes you what you are. How long have we been around this cycle of ours? This Manvantara? 306,720,000 years. What's it about? It's about the spiritual transmission, tradition. You take the beating for your tradition, you don't run, you don't lay down, you don't betray who you are. What you are.

It is a great tragedy to move to a once great city at the beginning of its end. And in every afflicted city, the story is the same: luxury condos, mass evictions, hipster invasions, a plague of tourists, the death of small local businesses, and the rise of corporate monoculture.

What is the most cruel and painful physical torture in literature?

this is for my own personal use.

alacrity
Briskness, cheerful readiness, liveliness, promptitude, sprightliness.

DROPPING NOW EDITION
THANKS FOR ALL THE WAITS

>be me, younger brother of a prince
>older brother natural leader and shit
>I'm kinda a fuck up but not rly?
>people say I have anger management issues. Fuck them
>not rly important
>anyway, bro has declared himself king
>civilwar.png
>sends me and my buddy to run it while he chills at home

>girl I liked is falling for big bro
>channel the rage
>unstopable beast on the battlefield, cleaving dudes in two
>buddy is the only one I can confide in

>when the fighting's done and there's nothing to be angry at, he'll sit with me and we just like stare off into space
>the more I do this shit, the less I want to
>see the scribes and ardents
>no blood on their hands
>look happy with their dudes
>secretly steal some gloves and socks
>start wearing them in my tent, super comfy, also look hot af

>start shaving everything
>start only doing leg day
>fucking up in combat
>buddy saves my ass
>see him standing over me, protecting
>hard as baked crem

>nighttime
>buddy bursts in livid
>think he was gonna yell at me and tell me to get my head out of my ass
>PeOpLe DePeNd oN u
>sees me looking at a book (illiterate lol, but I can pretend) wearing thigh highs and glove on safehand
>barely have any upper body mass anymore
>could crush a greatshell in my thighs
>Fucking stops in his tracks
>rails me all night long

I don't know what to do /b/ros, I can't keep doing this. It feels so good tho and I'm just craving S*****'s cock in bussy. Any advice? Should I just join the ardentia?

What is a good source for writing prompts?

Thanks

any books on the futility of effort posts and the prevalence of shitposts?

I just saw a film about how the chemical company DuPont knowingly gave thousands of people cancer through their production and use of teflon. Their own research showed that this would happen 40 years before they were challenged for it legally. It's my understanding that major oil companies have been doing something similar since the 80s - doing company-funded reseach which show that their business impact the climate negatively, and then hiding the research from the public eye for decades. The world and the people in it have suffered for these crimes.

What are some books about how big corporations fuck the world over? It's not like I didn't know about this before I saw the film but I'm suddently feeling really hungry to know more about the worst crimes committed against humanity by corporations. I have a naive want for an overview or something. pic related

(The film is Dark Waters by Todd Haynes from 2019, it's on Netflix in my country)

>be depressed, sad, lonely, friendless
>"Maybe reading will help me."
>decide to read Aristotle's Ethics
>"A person who cannot take joy in anything is below that of animals."
>"We cannot reckon as happy those without family or friends."
>"Them who find no joy in doing virtuous acts is in no way a good man."
>tfw

>Mahomet had been wont to retire yearly, during the month Ramadhan, into solitude and silence; as indeed was the Arab custom; a praiseworthy custom, which such a man, above all, would find natural and useful. Communing with his own heart, in the silence of the mountains; himself silent; open to the "small still voices:" it was a right natural custom! Mahomet was in his fortieth year, when having withdrawn to a cavern in Mount Hara, near Mecca, during this Ramadhan, to pass the month in prayer, and meditation on those great questions, he one day told his wife Kadijah, who with his household was with him or near him this year, That by the unspeakable special favor of Heaven he had now found it all out; was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That all these Idols and Formulas were nothing, miserable bits of wood; that there was One God in and over all; and we must leave all Idols, and look to Him. That God is great; and that there is nothing else great! He is the Reality. Wooden Idols are not real; He is real. He made us at first, sustains us yet; we and all things are but the shadow of Him; a transitory garment veiling the Eternal Splendor. "Allah akbar, God is great;"—and then also "Islam," That we must submit to God. That our whole strength lies in resigned submission to Him, whatsoever He do to us. For this world, and for the other! The thing He sends to us, were it death and worse than death, shall be good, shall be best; we resign ourselves to God.—"If this be Islam," says Goethe, "do we not all live in Islam?" Yes, all of us that have any moral life; we all live so. It has ever been held the highest wisdom for a man not merely to submit to Necessity,—Necessity will make him submit,—but to know and believe well that the stern thing which Necessity had ordered was the wisest, the best, the thing wanted there. To cease his frantic pretension of scanning this great God's-World in his small fraction of a brain; to know that it had verily, though deep beyond his soundings, a Just Law, that the soul of it was Good;—that his part in it was to conform to the Law of the Whole, and in devout silence follow that; not questioning it, obeying it as unquestionable

Books on how to cultivate superhuman strenght and resistance? My uncle could lift 100kg bags with his teeth alone from the ground, and would dare people to try and choke him while he was drinking beer, he also used to be trained in fighting by some experts, he was as if made of steel. I am currently writing this after bleeding from scratching a small itch. Maybe there are some books on breathing, chi, kundalini that focus on this subject?

Best literature on the matter?

We are nothing more than animals imperfectly perceiving the natural world before us. We are directed democratically by each of our instincts.

Theories of physics, psychology, and philosophy that we have created have been influenced by our imperfect perception and biological instinct. That is to say, none of them are 'the truth'.

Due to technological limits in our lifetime, untruth and interpretation are irremovable components to life. There is no fact.

How will you proceed anon?