>She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, my heart, my soul. Salt green death. We. Agenbite of inwit. Inwit’s agenbite. Misery! Misery!jesus christ man
>>25372278More like agenbite of midwit amIright lol
I forgot the quote but it was. Hemingway thing where he said The Shoes that belonged to a baby are for sale. They are for sale the baby shoes. And then a guy walks in the store and looks at the turpentine for a few minutes then says Are those baby shoes for sale. And the Sales man says yes the baby shoes are for sale. And the other guy tries to haggle because he just went to Best Buy and Best Buy has a price matching thing but they don’t have that sort of thing in this store with baby shoes. So eventually the guy says “Why are the baby shoes so expensive.” and the Sales man is like “don’t question my pricing Faggot” except he didn’t say faggot or the government would have shot him. Anyway he says Retard I mean Faggot don’t question my prices. And then the other guy asks again Why are the Baby Shoes so expensive? and then the Sales man says Because they were never ever even slightly worn by a Real Baby. And the other guy says What! But how do you know they are baby shoes if a baby never wore them. And then the
Later, when it had got into deep winter, the sun bleached their hair white and browned their skins. The standing joke was "Don't walk up on me unless you're in uniform, I might mistake you for a nigger." The "mistake" was made more than once. Around Waterberg especially, he remembered, when they were chasing Hereros into the bush and the desert, there were a few unpopular soldiers - reluctant? humanitarian. Their bitching got so bad you found yourself hoping . . . How much of a "mistake" it was was open to question, that's all he meant. By him, bleeding hearts like that weren't much better than the natives. Most of the time, thank God, you were with your own kind: comrades who all felt the same way, who weren't going to give you any nonsense no matter what you did. When a man wants to appear politically moral, he speaks of human brotherhood. In the field you actually found it. You weren't ashamed. For the first time in twenty years of continuous education-to-guilt, a guilt that had never really had meaning, that the Church and the secular entrenched had made out of whole cloth; after twenty years, simply not to he ashamed. Before you disemboweled or whatever you did with her, to be able to take a Herero girl before the eyes of your superior officer, and stay potent. And talk with them before you killed them without the sheep's eye, the shuffling, the prickly-heat of embarrassment . . .
>>25372651BRUTAL.heart wrenching kino.
He stood hat in hand over the unmarked earth. This woman who had worked for his family fifty years. She had cared for his mother as a baby and she had worked for his family long before his mother was born and she had known and cared for the wild Grady boys who were his mother’s uncles and who had all died so long ago and he stood holding his hat and he called her his abuela and he said goodbye to her in Spanish and then turned and put on his hat and turned his wet face to the wind and for a moment he held out his hands as if to steady himself or as if to bless the ground there or perhaps as if to slow the world that was rushing away and seemed to care nothing for the old or the young or rich or poor or dark or pale or he or she. Nothing for their struggles, nothing for their names. Nothing for the living or the dead.In four day's riding he crossed the Pecos at Iraan Texas and rode up out of the river breaks where the pumpjacks in the Yates Field ranged against the skyline rose and dipped like mechanical birds. Like great primitive birds welded up out of iron by hearsay in a land perhaps where such birds once had been. At that time there were still indians camped on the western plains and late in the day he passed in his riding a scattered group of their wickiups propped upon that scoured and trembling waste. The indians stood watching him. He could see that none of them spoke among themselves or commented on his riding there nor did they raise a hand in greeting or call out to him. As if they knew all that they needed to know. They stood and watched him pass and watched him vanish upon that landscape solely because he was passing. Solely because he would vanish.The desert he rode was red and red the dust he raised, the small dust that powdered the legs of the horse he rode, the horse he led. In the evening a wind came up and reddened all the sky before him. There were few cattle in that country because it was barren country indeed yet he came at evening upon a solitary bull rolling in the dust against the bloodred sunset like an animal in sacrificial torment. The bloodred dust blew down out of the sun. He touched the horse with his heels and rode on. He rode with the sun coppering his face and the red wind blowing out of the west across the evening land and the small desert birds flew chittering among the dry bracken and horse and rider and horse passed on and their long shadows passed in tandem like the shadow of a single being. Passed and paled into the darkening land, the world to come.
>>25372641how will ulycels ever recover
>>25372278>Agenbite of inwit. Inwit’s agenbite.
>It's every man for himself, and the earth for us all. People try to shake off their load of sorrow on someone else's back when they're in love, but it doesn't work..."dont get me wrong, this book is great but i feel like reading stuff like this when i already feel pretty dissatisfied with others and myself isnt good for my mental health
>Quite something, my friend, >>was the dream I saw during the course of this night! [...]>There was a man, his expression was grim,>>his face was like that of an Anzu-bird>His hands were a lion's paws, his claws an eagle's talons, >>he took hold of my hair, he was too strong for me. [...]>"Rescue me, my friend!" [I cried out to you]>>But you were afraid of him [...]>He bound my arms like the wings of a bird,>>to lead me captive to the house of darkness [...]>to the house which those who enter cannot leave,>>on the journey whose way cannot be retraced>to the house whose residents are deprived of light,>>where dust is their sustenance, their food clay.>They are clad like birds in coats of feathers,>>and they cannot see light but dwell in darkness.>On the door and bold the dust lies thick,>>on the House of Dust a deathly quiet is poured.>On the House of Dust I entered,>>I looked and saw the crowns stowed away [...]>[Before the Queen was squatting Belet-seri, the scribe of the underworld]>She raised her head, she saw me:>>"Who was it fetched this man here?>>"Who was it brought this fellow here?
>>25372278>"God pity them both! and pity us all,>Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;>For of all sad words of tongue or pen,>The saddest are these: ‘It might have been!’"
this too shall pass
>>25372651>Don't question my pricing faggotMade me lol
