There are some strange summer mornings in the country, when he who is but a sojourner from the city shall early walk forth into the fields, and be wonder-smitten with the trance-like aspect of the green and golden world. Not a flower stirs; the trees forget to wave; the grass itself seems to have ceased to grow; and all Nature, as if suddenly become conscious of her own profound mystery, and feeling no refuge from it but silence, sinks into this wonderful and indescribable repose.
>>25085113μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs, starr'd the Sides of Outbuildings, as of Cousins, carried Hats away into the brisk Wind off Delaware,— the Sleds are brought in and their Runners carefully dried and greased, shoes deposited in the back Hall, a stocking'd-foot Descent made upon the great Kitchen, in a purposeful Dither since Morning, punctuated by the ringing Lids of various Boilers and Stewing-Pots, fragrant with Pie Spices, peel'd Fruits, Suet, heated Sugar, — the Children, having all upon the Fly, among rhythmic slaps of Batter and Spoon, coax'd and stolen what they might, proceed, as upon each afternoon all this snowy Advent, to a comfortable Room at the rear of the House, years since given over to their carefree Assaults.
La chair est triste helas, et j'ai lu tous les livres
>>25085113Meeting with supervisors and HR, RE: recent performance evaluation.
>>25085113our father, who art in heaven
Oh my human brothers, let me tell you how it happened. I am not your brother, you’ll retort, and I don’t want to know. And it certainly is true that this is a bleak story, but an edifying one too, a real morality play, I assure you. You might find it a bit long—a lot of things happened, after all—but perhaps you’re not in too much of a hurry; with a little luck you’ll have some time to spare. And also, this concerns you: you’ll see that this concerns you. Don’t think I am trying to convince you of anything; after all, your opinions are your own business.
>>25085113It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
>>25085113>Here begins our tale. The empire, long divided, must unite; long united, must divide.
§1Past the flannel plains and blacktop graphs and skylines of canted rust, and past the tobacco-brown river overhung with weeping trees and coins of sunlight through them on the water downriver, to the place beyond the windbreak, where untilled fields simmer shrilly in the A.M. heat: shattercane, lamb’s-quarter, cutgrass, sawbrier, nutgrass, jimsonweed, wild mint, dandelion, foxtail, muscadine, spinecabbage, goldenrod, creeping charlie, butter-print, nightshade, ragweed, wild oat, vetch, butcher grass, invaginate volunteer beans, all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother’s soft hand on your cheek. An arrow of starlings fired from the windbreak’s thatch. The glitter of dew that stays where it is and steams all day. A sunflower, four more, one bowed, and horses in the distance standing rigid and still as toys. All nodding. Electric sounds of insects at their business. Ale-colored sunshine and pale sky and whorls of cirrus so high they cast no shadow. Insects all business all the time. Quartz and chert and schist and chondrite iron scabs in granite. Very old land. Look around you. The horizon trembling, shapeless. We are all of us brothers.Some crows come overhead then, three or four, not a murder, on the wing, silent with intent, corn-bound for the pasture’s wire beyond which one horse smells at the other’s behind, the lead horse’s tail obligingly lifted. Your shoes’ brand incised in the dew. An alfalfa breeze. Socks’ burrs. Dry scratching inside a culvert. Rusted wire and tilted posts more a symbol of restraint than a fence per se. NO HUNTING. The shush of the interstate off past the windbreak. The pasture’s crows tanding at angles, turning up patties to get at the worms underneath, the shapes of the worms incised in the overturned dung and baked by the sun all day until hardened, there to stay, tiny vacant lines in rows and inset curls that do not close because head never quite touches tail. Read these.
>In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
Only one enemy remained; two if you counted God.
>>25087309>i was to say Pynchon but it's DFW for fuck's sake. I've read TPK but can't recall this exact backdrop.
>>25087309It is easy to forget that first two paragraph long chapter, which is by design. On my second read I was convinced it was not in the first edition copy I originally read and went back to read the introduction that I had skipped to see if things were added in the later edition that I was reading, and then reread that first chapter a dozen times. The entire novel is summed up in those two paragraphs, we can't see that on our first read and it might take a third or fourth reading to really understand it.
>>25088776That was meant for >>25088776, wasn't paying attention.
>>25088780Seriously? >>25088776 was for >>25088088.
>>25087234
Magnus es, Domine, et laudabilis valde.the most chad of all
>>25085113>In the beginning the universe was created.>This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.
STATELY
>>25085113I don't feel like going and finding the book and typing it in but the opening to Wild Seed by Octavia Butler has always stood out in my mind.It takes place in a fascinating pov (a millenia old immortal body changer sociopath slave breeder) and quickly ramps up the weirdness. He is very casual about dying, his plans unfold across generations.Within like 2 pages this bro is my ride or die pov and I'm going to read anything from it.
