>"I do not step shyly back from your property, but look upon it always as my property, in which I respect nothing. Pray do the like with what you call my property!" >"I take what i want and don't feel bad about doing it because fuck morals, so should you!" I expected the author to be a bit more powerful looking... How does a man like this "use his might" to take the property that belongs to others I could easily take him out with my bare hands tbh he looks weak
Just finished reading this and I am mad. WHY THE FUCK DOES OAK MARRY THIS WHORE?
She deserved all the suffering, it was her own doing. the only reasonable action for Oak was to tell her to go fuck herself.
>They don't marry because she doesn't love him >Then he is poor >Yet she marries a soldier who is just as poor >Disregards Boldwood after getting his hopes up more than once >Goes back to Oak when she has no other options
Is Bathsheba the biggest cunt in all of literature?
Seriously, how do you Americans deal with such bad literature and try to make it pass as something different and edgy? It's just bad. The prose is horrible, the dialogue could be misplaced as being the product of a 15 year old high on weed.
ITT: We discuss our novel/short story/novella ideas.
>A paranoid schizophrenic works with his older brother as a builder. His brother is far too intellectually advanced for the work but must stay with his younger sibling to keep an eye on him. Eventually economic collapse of the construction industry leaves them both jobless, with the elder brother conflicted between seeking new employment and keeping his brother occupied.
I was walking down the street when a man stopped me and said, Hey yo sistah, you from the motherland? Because my skin is a shade too deep not to have come from foreign soil Because this garment on my head screams Africa Because my body is a beacon calling everybody to come flock to the motherland I said, I’m Sudanese, why? He says, ‘cause you got a little bit of flavor in you, I’m just admiring what your mama gave you
Let me tell you something about my mama She can reduce a man to tattered flesh without so much as blinking Her words fester beneath your skin and the whole time, You won’t be able to stop cradling her eyes. My mama is a woman, flawless and formidable in the same step. Woman walks into a warzone and has warriors cowering at her feet My mama carries all of us in her body, on her face, in her blood and Blood is no good once you let it loose So she always holds us close.
When I was 7, she cradled bullets in the billows of her robes. That same night, she taught me how to get gunpowder out of cotton with a bar of soap. Years later when the soldiers held her at gunpoint and asked her who she was She said, I am a daughter of Adam, I am a woman, who the hell are you? The last time we went home, we watched our village burn, Soldiers pouring blood from civilian skulls As if they too could turn water into wine. They stole the ground beneath our feet.
The woman who raised me turned and said, don’t be scared I’m your mother, I’m here, I won’t let them through. My mama gave me conviction. Women like her Inherit tired eyes, Bruised wrists and titanium plated spines. The daughters of widows wearing the wings of amputees Carry countries between their shoulder blades.
I’m not saying dating is a first world problem, but these trifling moterfuckers seem to be. The kind who’ll quote Rumi, but not know what he sacrificed for war. Who’ll fawn over Lupita, but turn their racial filters on. Who’ll take their politics with a latte when I take mine with tear gas. Every guy I meet wants to be my introduction to the dark side, Wants me to open up this obsidian skin and let them read every tearful page, Because what survivor hasn’t had her struggle made spectacle? Don’t talk about the motherland unless you know that being from Africa means waking up an afterthought in this country. Don’t talk about my flavor unless you know that My flavor is insurrection, it is rebellion, resistance my flavor is mutiny It is burden, it is grit and it is compromise And you don't know compromise until you’ve rebuilt your home for the third time Without bricks, without mortar, without any other option
I turned to the man and said, My mother and I can’t walk the streets alone back home any more. Back home, there are no streets to walk any more.
Hey /lit/ I need recommendations on good audio books Especially audio books of the horror genre, but I'll take any and all recommendations that you'd give
Already downloaded off YouTube some decent sounding audio book of Hellbound Heart and I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream as well as some stuff read by Vincent Price. But my new promotion got me driving to work an hour to and from 3 times a week So I REALLY could use some help stocking up on stuff to listen to on these long drives.
Bhikkus, there are these four kinds of shitposts to be found in the world. What four? There is the shitpost which is well-composed and receives replies. There is the shitpost which is ill-composed and receives replies. There is the shitpost which is well composed and does not receive replies. There is the shitpost which is ill-composed and does not receive replies.
Bhikkus, suppose an undiscerning Brahmin or renunciate were to go wandering in search of alms. There on the road he would come across poisonous fruit. He would think to himself, "let me sate my craving by eating this fruit," and in doing so he would come to death or deadly suffering. Why is that? Because he has not discerned its nature, I say.
[Now] suppose a discerning Brahmin or renunciate were to go wandering in search of alms. There on the road he would come across poisonous fruit. He would not think to himself, "let me sate my craving by eating this fruit," and in doing so he would not come to death or deadly suffering. Why is that? Because he has discerned its nature, I say.
Just so, bhikkus, when you come across divisive and harsh shitposts on Magadhan tapestry forums, do not think to yourself "I will sate my craving by replying to this post."
That is what the Bhagava said. Pleased, the bhikkus delighted in the Bhagava's words.
