#literary text

[beljar]

I don't do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision.

Allen Ginsberg, The Book of Martyrdom and Artifice: First Journals and Poems, 1937-1952

[phleb0tomist]

tumblr users will have the most inaccessible, unreadable, low contrast, flashing carrd you can possibly imagine, with a dni full of insider acronyms with no translation and numerous link buttons labelled with cryptic captions, and then go ahead and put “ableists dni and kys!” on that carrd

[plainselfraisingflour]

"Charles Hayter exceedingly happy, and they were devoted to each other."

Before this they were kind of a couple, but not really: "between whom there had been a considerable appearance of attachment"; "and Henriette did seem to like him." From this we can see that they are on the edge of becoming a couple, as well as from all thr interest that Henrietta takes I'm Charles Hayter's career prospects.

But - the above quotes are about appearances and not what they actually are. That first one is also a pretty long-winded (I.e., namby pamby) sentence. "[T]hey were devoted to each other" is a phrase much more powerful.

And this mutual devotion is brought about by a break (albeit a short one), and rekindling of the romance.

It's foreshadowing and promise of the strength of Anne and Captain Wentworth's love that stands the test of time and circumstance. Not that anyone, I think, needs testament of their love, but I like it.

[elle-rph]

People are so lucky I don’t fully speak my mind.

[gennsoup]

"You know what I think? I think this whole concept of women being docile and obedient is nothing but wishful thinking. Or why would you put so much effort into lying to us? Into crippling our bodies? Into coercing us with made-up morals you claim are sacred? You insecure men, you're afraid. You can force us into compliance, but, deep down, you know you can't force us to truly love and respect you. And without love and respect, there will always be a seed of hatred and resistance. Growing. Festering. Waiting."

Xiran Jay Zhao, Iron Widow

[botanautical]

THE DARK ERA - 黒の時代

(textless version below the cut)

[anipologist]

There is not nearly enough said about Tolkien's ability to encompass volumes into very short sentences. Mostly because, yes the man was a master of lush descriptions and certainly he loves to wax long and poetically about stars and trees and far green fields under the wind...

But the skill with which he can pack an emotional punch into a couple of words...

Consider the following

"Then Fingolfin beheld (as it seemed to him) the utter ruin of the Noldor, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses; and filled with wrath and despair he mounted upon Rochallor his great horse and rode forth alone, and none might restrain him. He passed over Dor-nu-Fauglith like a wind amid the dust, and all that beheld his onset fled in amaze, thinking that Oromë himself was come: for a great madness of rage was upon him, so that his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar. Thus he came alone to Angband's gates, and he sounded his horn, and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. "

And the final sentence "And Morgoth came."

All of that imagery of Fingolfin coming upon Morgoth like a Vala himself and throwing down his figurative gauntlet and then the fallen Vala coming forth with just a three word sentence.

Or the entirety of the Duel of Sauron and Finrod (that is renowned) all gorgeous imagery, the Lord of Wolves against the disguised king of Minas Tirith...

"Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong The chanting swelled, Felagund fought, And all the magic and might he brought Of Elvenesse into his words."

....

"The wolf howls. The ravens flee. The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea. The captives sad in Angband mourn. Thunder rumbles, the fires burn"

And the final line "And Finrod fell before the throne."

The brevity and the switch from Felagund to just Finrod, from the dwarf-given title to his Telerin-originated father-name as he falls defenseless to the reminder of the kinslaying is devastating in its simplicity.

There is a time for lush descriptions and a time for brevity, a time for gorgeous, expensive imagery and allegory and a time for literary simplicity and Tolkien knew it...

[fleurral]

for someone who loves words, i find it difficult to put my thoughts together. i have so much to say but the alphabets seem to stay alphabets alone—no phrase expressed, no sentence constructed. i wanted it to be coherent. i wanted it to be in-depth. i wanted it to be meaningful yet noncomplex. i want the words to linger and not just touch. stuck and not just hit. absorbed and not just flipped over. however, for someone who loves words, i cannot identify the right words to utter. it feels like no term can justify the feeling i wanted to memorialize. no idiom is that deep. no speech is that articulate. it is like there are not enough words in this world to seize the emotions i bear. though i love words, i am afraid i cannot find the words that are worthy to depict my experiences. with that, i am also afraid that such experiences will remain as memories in my mind—most likely to be forgotten and left behind.

[thatlittleegyptologist]

Some of you might be interested in this 27 minute video on how to read Egyptian Hieroglyphs. You're only reading a very small text, but it's broken down really well and everyone loves to be able to read a few hieroglyphs.

[fictionadventurer]

The BBC lady blowing my mind by pointing out the parallels between the endings of North and South and Jane Eyre (man brought low after losing his fortune, woman has gained wealth and comes to his rescue so they're now on equal footing).

She also pointed out that North and South is a continuation of issues Bronte explored in Shirley (to the point that Helstone is named after a character there), so I guess I may have to read that book one day.

[beljar]

I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself.

Henry David Thoreau, from Walden, 1854

[fatimaamerbilal]

fatima aamer bilal, from moony moonless sky.

[text id: if i were a poet, would you be my poetry?]

[lettingogh]

[diaryofruchita]

ruchita, excerpt from all about Eve

[elle-rph]

I’ll be fine, I just gotta stress about it for a while.

[gennsoup]

Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

Anne Sexton, Small Wire