Post your favorite books, you retarded intellectuals

Post your favorite books, you retarded intellectuals.

Pic related is a masterpiece that everyone should read.

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Not taking the true red pill, the dostoyevsky pill, greatest writer of all times.

I really like his other book "The Road" It kicked me in the balls and made me feel feelings

I also really like the Goblin Emperor. Its an amazing book about finding your place in the world and beautiful shit like that.

Wheel of time
Anyone else finish the 15(?) Book adventure?

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I'm a fan of C&P. Brothers not so much

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> Not reading the NIV

Look at this cuck.

The end of scanner darkly

Dude Wizard and Glass is like the most shit book in the entire series

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I love me some Dick.

I'm a cyberpunk fan too. Any other recommendations in the genre?

Good book. My favourite is still pic related though.
Nope, that's Wolves of the Calla.

no I don't know any others, I love the cyberpunk setting but most of what I know comes from films and video games

obligatory
also sexiest book cover I have ever seen

All things Thomas Ligotti

Blood Meridian sucked. The Kid could've killed the fat pedo, two or three times? But didn't.

Also: purple prose, purple prose everywhere.

Read No Country For Old Men instead.

Couldn't find Portage to San Cristobal of A.H. cover.

The Jungle, super depressing for me

Faulkner is better.

The entire Chronicles of Thomas Covenant series is pretty awesome.

>hack away you mean red nigger

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These and pretty much anything by Robin Hobb, she treats her main characters like dirt, gets dem feels running.

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I liked the movie better.

Pic related is pretty good.

I'm halfway through the Book of the New Sun series though, and it's really good.

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Nigger

OK

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I'm reading this right now. It's fucking good. It's much better than the 1st and 3rd book so far.

Is this even good? Isn't a lot of it outdated at this point? I heard that Darwin didn't understand what a species really was.

Read it and find out. It isn't considered a seminal work in science for no reason...

Great book!

Well if the science was incorrect I wouldn't know or not...

I've read this and the idea of turning retarded scared the shit out of me
I vote for this

Get on my level, plebs.

>fallout the book but with science and monks
I liked this book

When you're older, read this.

When you get an education read this. In Spanish as intended.

all of the redwall series

I prefer the guy who punched him in the nose.

>retarded intellectuals
kek

I'm not sure what my favorite book is. I actually don't like them, I think people should start memorizing everything.

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Also, I'm currently reading this. Pretty good so far.

The Alchemist. Outstanding book.

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The Warrior of the Light was way better

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This book changed my perspective on our collective future immensely

FOR the most wild yet most homely narrative which I am
about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed
would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject
their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I
not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would
unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before
the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series
of mere household events. In their consequences, these
events have terrified—have tortured—have destroyed me.
Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have
presented little but horror—to many they will seem less
terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect
may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the
commonplace—some intellect more calm, more logical, and
far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the
circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an
ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.
From my infancy I was noted for the docility and
humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was
even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my
companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was
indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With
these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as
when feeding and caressing them. This peculiarity of
character grew with my growth, and, in my manhood, I
derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To
those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and
sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining
the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable.
There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love

of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has
had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and
gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a
disposition not uncongenial with my own. Observing my
partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of
procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds,
gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat.
This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal,
entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In
speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a
little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to
the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as
witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this
point—and I mention the matter at all for no better reason
than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.
Pluto—this was the cat’s name—was my favorite pet
and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever
I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I
could prevent him from following me through the streets.
Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years,
during which my general temperament and character—
through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance—had
(I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the
worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more
regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use
intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered
her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel
the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but illused
them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient
regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no
scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the
dog, when, by accident, or through affection, they came in

my way. But my disease grew upon me—for what disease is
like Alcohol!—and at length even Pluto, who was now
becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish—even
Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one
of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my
presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he
inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The
fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no
longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight
from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, ginnurtured,
thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my
waistcoat-pocket a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor
beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from
the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the
damnable atrocity.
When reason returned with the morning—when I had
slept off the fumes of the night’s debauch—I experienced a
sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of
which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and
equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again
plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory
of the deed.
In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of
the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but
he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the
house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme
terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as
to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a
creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon
gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and
irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this
spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure

Is it just a meme, or is it actually profound?

>retarded intellectuals.

It's a pretty good book actually.

Inb4 original

I like this series a a lot

cormac mccarthy is great, i've only read the road and no country tho. gotta find more of his stuff

One of my favorites

Pretty short but good read