Leaves of Grass
Leaves of Grass is a poetry collection by American poet Walt Whitman. First published in 1855, Whitman spent most of his professional life writing and rewriting Leaves of Grass, revising it multiple times until his death. There have been held to be either six or nine individual editions of Leaves of Grass, the count varying depending on how they are distinguished.[2] This resulted in vastly different editions over four decades—the first edition being a small book of twelve poems, and the last, a compilation of over 400. )
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- Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman.
If ever I’m struggling with something I pick it up and open to a random leaf and just read until I feel better.
- Crime and Punishment
Leaves of Grass
Persuasion
Foundation
The Diary of Lady Murasaki
The Remains of the Day
Travels in Siberia
Anabasis
A Brief History of Time
The Rebel
- A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain
North of Boston by Robert Frost
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle (+ the other Sherlock Holmes')
Candide by Voltaire (was reminded by other posting - this is great!)
- Leaves of grass by Walt Whitman is something that I feel calls to me at times, and my bibleworn copy often sits on my workbench. I even have some sections memorized.
- i play a game where i have duplicate copies of some books to give to anyone interested who has yet to have heard of one
here's a incomprehensive list in alphabetical order:
a people's history of the united states; howard zinn
a rebours; joris-karl huysmans
alcestis; euripides
apology; plato
belaya staya; anna akhmatova
die verwandlung; franz kafka
elements; euclid
epic of gilgamesh; unknown
ficciones; jorge luis borges
fractals: form, chance and dimension; benoit mandelbrot
fragments; sappho
gospels of mary and judas; unknown
i ching; unknown
la vida es sueno; pedro calderon de la barca
leaves of grass; walt whitman
letters of vincent van gogh
meghaduta; kalidasa
my life; isadora duncan
nightwood; djuna barnes
oku no hosomichi; basho
one piece; eiichiro oda
poems; emily dickinson
relativity: the special and general theory; albert einstein
saga; fiona staples and brian k vaughan
the brothers karamazov; fyodor dostoyevsky, translated by constance garnett
the first third; neal cassady
the power of pi; stickman lagrou graves
the secret life of salvador dali; dali
the way of a pilgrim; unknown
twelth night; william shakespeare
thing explainer; randall munroe
ulysses; james joyce
women, race, and class; angela davis
if you want a quick description of any i enjoy talking about them, and i appreciate suggestions
- May I prescribe a course in reading? Read Zola's Germinal. Read Moby Dick. Leaves of Grass. Pride and Prejudice. King Lear. Les Miserables. Lysistrata. The Odyssey. Anything great. We all (for reasonable values of 'all') yearn. It's the human condition. "true ambitions" suggests a fairly naive view of the world.
To put this in context. Almost everyone who ever lived has died of starvation, a broken leg, an infection, or by being eaten, if they somehow made it through childbirth and the next 3 years of helplessness. Everyone. Even today, most people work selling shoes or insurance, or assembling things in a factory for 12 hours. As I stand here at my expensive stand up desk, outside some guy is driving a lawn mower around with a bandana around his face to inadequately protect him from the flying dust. I hope your mental model of all these people is not a lack of 'true ambition'.
We all yearn. I guess you can put yourself on a pedestal and conclude that you are different than everyone else, or recognize your brother/sisterhood, and try to learn what life is about. You have 80 years left if you are extremely, outrageously lucky. I'm not saying don't strive, but I am arguing for perspective into the human condition.
We all yearn. Life is limited. The air is beautiful today, and your wife wants some attention. Live it, instead of lamenting that you are such an incredibly special snowflake that being at the very, very top of opportunity for humans in the history of the world just isn't good enough for you. The people that just died in Typhoon Halong deserved more. We all do, but we don't get it. Take what you can, embrace the bittersweet, and live. It's all going away soon.
I think you'll be happier that way.
To the person I am replying to: I am more riffing off the things you said, than replying to you specifically. You may be perfectly happy. No disrespect intended.
edit: I yearn too. I'm not dismissing the feelings of the OP, but pointing out that it is pretty darn universal. I've found that viewpoint incredibly helpful for my own life; perhaps the people reading will as well.
