That Real Litt (hottest paragraphz)

kitchenknight

I finished Cormac McCarthy's, 'Suttree,' today. Extraordinary book. Cannot recommend it highly enough.But, check this little jawn at the end, as Suttree is setting out to travel:"He lifted a hand and turned and went on. He had divested himself of the little cloaked godlet and his other amulets in a place where they would not be found in his lifetime and he'd taken for talisman the simple human heart within him. Walking down the little street for the last time he felt everything fall away from him. Until there was nothing left for him to shed. It was all gone. No trail, no track. The spoor petered out down there on Front Street where things he'd been lay like paper shadows, a few here, they thin out. After that nothing. A few rumors. Idle word on the wind. Old news years in traveling that you could not put stock in." :melt::melt::melt::melt::melt::melt::melt::melt: Go to your bookshelf. Through up some of your favorite literary/written passages.

funky16corners

I'm too tired to go dig it out right now, but there's a section in 'On the Road' where they go to see a jazz combo that is extraordinary.

kitchenknight

I'm too tired to go dig it out right now, but there's a section in 'On the Road' where they go to see a jazz combo that is extraordinary.

Fine by me... or, share a favorite passage.
I've been meaning to reread On The Road, myself...

Reynaldo

On The Road

So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, and all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all the rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.

young_cream

Slaughter house five , kurt vonnegut

"He went into the living room, swinging the bottle like a dinner bell, turned on the television. He came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie backwards, then forwards again. It was a movie about American bombers in the second world war and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, the story went like this:

American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpes took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.

When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anyone ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby."

HarveyCanal

"Then you sit on this rooftop and wait in the dark for a helicopter or boat to come and rescue you. Four days pass by and nobody comes. You have been left to die and you begin to have these feelings of giving up and wondering where is the God that you believed in and prayed to for help. You give up and slowly put one foot in the black water with dead bodies floating past you and then you put another foot in and slowly descend into the grave that was not supposed to be yours. You hold your breath as long as you can, and water begins to fill your lungs, and the fear that is all-consuming has you hearing the beat of drums, when you realize it's your heart you are hearing so loudly, so deafening that you can literally hear it, and it becomes too much and the only solution is to drink in the black water to stop the pain and fear so you can rest and sleep eternally and the last thing you see is the bodies of your neighbors and their children floating by, with the flies and maggots eating their flesh."

Phyllis Montana Leblanc from "Not Just the Levees Broke"

Tektonic_Plates

There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.

-Melville's Moby Dick

Cosmo

That McCarthy shit is f*cking ridiculous.