Post the most beautiful passage of prose you have ever read OR post the passage that changed your life

This is Yea Forumss girl now. And she is against footfags.

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The introduction of Beyond Good and Evil. My first exposure to Nietzsche almost 10 years ago now and it completely changed my life.

"Darkness invades the dreams of the glassblower. Of all the unpleasantries his dreams grab in out of the night air, an extinguished light is the worst. Light in his dreams, was always hope: the basic moral hope. As the contacts break helically away, hope turns to darkness, and the glassblower wakes sharply tonight crying, Who? Who?"

"- so soft and uncompounded is their essence pure, not tied or manacled to joint or limb, nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, like cumbrous flesh -"

paradise lost

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Thoreau

Maybe not the most beautiful but I love the opening chapter of Suttree:

>Dear friend now in the dusty clockless hours of the town when the streets lie black and steaming in the wake of the watertrucks and now when the drunk and the homeless have washed up in the lee of walls in alleys or abandoned lots and cats go forth highshouldered and lean in the grim perimeters about, now in these sootblacked brick or cobbled corridors where lightwire shadows make a gothic harp of cellar doors no soul shall walk save you.

goddamn, mccarthy really is one of the best living authors

Tolkien, Lord of the Rings, Return of the King

>Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly. 'My lord, you called
me. I come. What does the king command?'
>'Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!' said Aragorn. 'You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return.'
>'I will, lord,' said Faramir. 'For who would lie idle when the king has returned?'

>"Ayo fuck whitey"

“Jeremy will take her like the Angel itself, in his joyless weasel-worded come-along, and Roger will be forgotten, an amusing maniac, but with no place in the rationalized power-ritual that will be the coming peace. She will take her husband's orders, she will become a domestic bureaucrat, a junior partner, and remember Roger, if at all, as a mistake thank God she didn't make…. Oh, he feels a raving fit coming on—how the bloody hell can he survive without her? She is the British warm that protects his stooping shoulders, and the wintering sparrow he holds inside his hands. She is his deepest innocence in spaces of bough and hay before wishes were given a separate name to warn that they might not come true, and his lithe Parisian daughter of joy, beneath the eternal mirror, forswearing perfumes, capeskin to the armpits, all that is too easy, for his impoverishment and more worthy love.
You go from dream to dream inside me. You have passage to my last shabby corner, and there, among the debris, you've found life. I'm no longer sure which of all the words, images, dreams or ghosts are 'yours' and which are 'mine.' It's past sorting out. We're both being someone new now, someone incredible….”

Based

“Early in the nineteenth century, when there were as yet no railways or macadamized roads, no gaslight, no stearine candles, no low couches with sprung cushions, no unvarnished furniture, no disillusioned youths with eye glasses, no liberalizing women philosophers, nor any charming dames aux camelias of whom there are so many in our times, in those naive days, when leaving Moscow for Petersburg in a coach or carriage provided with a kitchenful of home-made provisions one traveled for eight days along a soft, dusty or muddy road and believed in chopped cutlets, sledge-bells, and plain rolls; when in the long autumn evenings the tallow candles, around which family groups of twenty or thirty people gathered, had to be snuffed; when ball-rooms were illuminated by candelabra with wax or spermaceti candles, when furniture was arranged symmetrically, when our fathers were still young and proved it not only by the absence of wrinkles and grey hair but by fighting duels for the sake of a woman and rushing from the opposite corner of a room to pick up a bit of handkerchief purposely or accidentally dropped; when our mothers wore short-waisted dresses and enormous sleeves and decided family affairs by drawing lots, when the charming dames aux camelias hid from the light of day - in those naïve days of Masonic lodges, Martinists, and Tugenbunds, the days of Miloradoviches and Davydovs and Pushkins - a meeting of landed proprietors was held in the Government town of K--, and the nobility elections were being concluded.”

These overly produced pics are boring and unappealing.

feeling triggered, incel?

But I don’t understand the apprehension towards them.

It’s perfectly fine to not pursue women when they are being flashy— that’s called having some respect for yourself and being a man.

But to be afraid of pictures of women? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Could you please stop posting shit like that? I'm on NoFap, trying to rewire my brain, that means not only NoPorn, but also NoArtificialArousal, that means pics of females in suggestive poses like the one on OP are strictly prohibited for me (for 90 days). I mean, couldn't you be a little more considerate? Understand my struggle please. If you don't stop posting this kind of pictures i'm going to be forced to remove thumbnails, and browsing an image board without images is simply ridiculous. Could you please help me and NOT post this stuff anymore?

This kind of shit is hilarious. I sincerely hope you’re trolling.

See

Incels love artificiality though. Hence their distaste for actual human women.
What makes you think I don't like pictures of women? I hate inhuman fake shit, real women are great.

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>wanting photos of REAL women to be posted

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can someone reupload the original image, hot as fuck

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