Is all writing vanity? Only think of the absurdity of it: a man, an organic...

Is all writing vanity? Only think of the absurdity of it: a man, an organic, perishable thing which death might take at any moment, steadies himself and does a thing entirely alien to any natural purpose, namely, to utter something true and imperishable. Who does he think he is? What can he, a mortal thing, have to do with that which is immortal? At any moment he could take ill, on account of some bad food he ate at supper, leaving him bed-ridden and delirious--and what is it but humiliating, not that he should take ill, but that he should be susceptible to illness in the first place? What is he but a strange tragedy? A thing to be pitied, however erudite and collected he manages to become in a few, spare years, as though he were the only doomed guest at a banquet, as though he were the only intelligence at a forum unfortunate enough to be born in fugitive flesh and sinew? If he can manage to string together a few pleasant words, amidst the horrors of his condition--the daily obligations, stringing him along towards a purpose remote to him--he is an anomaly, a rarity, an accident.

But you will remark that everything I have written thus far is vanity, and you would be right. It is vanity to be horrified, "chilled", and so forth. It is vanity to be humiliated. It is vanity to indulge in pity, both for oneself and others. Therefore, what is there to be remarked? Who wants to hear plain, unadulterated truth? What use is it? What good is it? It is a thing to be noticed; a curiosity, merely. No one can faun over it, or seduce it, or stir it to frivolity--it remains fixed, unfazed, and unmoved; utterly indifferent. If it were a man, people would say he is no fun, people would say he is too serious, too unfeeling. But what do you live for? This is what they would ask. And what could he possibly reply? He does neither strives, nor seeks. What has he to do? What plans to make? He is not touched by pollution or mortal thing. Therefore, the truth is not a man, not an earthly thing. But then, how can we reach it? What purpose does it really serve in our lives?

At least a man could refrain from vanity, but then, what would he write?

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Sauce?

>if i use lots of commas and big words i sound smart
Stop being a retard user and read some philosophy.
People have been discussing this for literally thousands of years, you're far from alone.

If philosophy has not solved the problem, why do you tell me to turn to it?

writing as shitty as this would convince me of it user

to consider other ideas and further develop your own views you absolute brainlet

Honestly if you care at all about writing prose, and you’re a male, then you’re a faggot

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The thought of a man sitting down trying to write the prettiest line is just repulsive, especially if it’s fiction. It’s all been mastered and done before by great minds in history. You have nothing to contribute.

YOUR PROLIX SOLILOQUY IS RENDERED NULL DUE TO YOUR MATERIALISTIC A PRIORI THESIS.

Glad I write prose standing up

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I could not do it! My touch is not light enough. I hold my breath and tremble, but it will not let one like me approach it--one full of pride and fear. A man cannot give birth--that vocation was given to woman; for he is too coarse, too rough to handle the tender child. His grip, his touch would impress too much force; it would crush the poor thing. Nor is his mind right for it--man is a stranger to childbirth! Nature has cut him off from it--and who can question her judgment? Neither is man a tightrope walker or a ballet dancer; this too is woman's calling. By his very intent he would compromise his balance! The more he applied himself to the task, the more he would waver! Man is ever apart from that which he seeks! Ah, who can cross this unassailable gulf? Man was born to be solitary; the secrets which Nature has freely imparted to the woman and the child, she has hidden from him! He is to look on, but not participate; he is to judge and reckon, but never will his council be sought; never will he usurp the sovereignty of the heavens. Since he cannot dictate, he must follow, blindly. Man is a guest in the museum of life--ever to look but never to touch.

I remember being 16

it feels like every board has one of these guys

They’re all him.

surely there's more than one

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You crush my heart. You roll over my tongue. What are we but two boars? I will not fight. I yield. I lament. Good night, sweet brother.

Jk it’s really good you piece of shit keep it up

I want you to slap yourself repeatedly and not stop until you lose a minimum of four teeth.

I even took a screenshot of it faggot gonna read it to my gf before I fuck her brains out

>Man is a guest in the museum of life--ever to look but never to touch

Good thing I’m a dog

What do you know: vituperation on Yea Forums--how original, how courageous! What a risk you have taken! What gallantry, what daring! You do know, if all those who you berate were to take you seriously, you would soon be out of victims--and what a lonely place it would be for you. Then your own cross would crush you, there being none other for you to cast it upon in relief.

Yes, very well. We see that Nature has reserved an especially coarse abode for man; a lusty mire for him to revel in like a dog. This is where she keeps him, inebriated and dumb, and meanwhile performs her movements safely removed from his narrow scrutiny. That's all he is to her--an all to willing dupe! Woe to him, woe to man! The poor wretch!

Absolutely anything done is going to be done in vain, user. The recollection should make [us] better, more thoughtful and willingly helpful people, but sadly it does not.

>licks crotch

Pretty good user

>vituperation

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All is vanity, not just writing.

>performs her movements safely removed from his narrow scrutiny
Is this code for escorting? Are you a whore? Will you bring back wings when you get home?

If philosophy hasnt solved this problem what makes you think you can you absolute posturing faggot.

"It behooves all men who wish to excel the other animals to strive with might and main not to pass through life unheralded, like the beasts, which Nature has fashioned grovelling and slaves to the belly. All our power, on the contrary, lies in both mind and body; we employ the mind to rule, the body rather to serve; the one we have in common with the Gods, the other with the brutes. Therefore I find it becoming, in seeking renown, that we should employ the resources of the intellect rather than those of brute strength, to the end that, since the span of life which we enjoy is short, we may make the memory of our lives as long as possible. For the renown which riches or beauty confer is fleeting and frail; mental excellence is a splendid and lasting possession."

NICE user

based

Sallust knew what was up