>The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon
>Kind of diary written around the year 1000 by a Japanese gentlewoman serving in the Empress' court
>Chapter 25, Infuriating Things
>A man you're in a relationship with speaks admiringly of some woman who was once his lover. This rankles even if the affair is now safely in the past and you can imagine how much more enraging it would be if she were actually a current lover of his.
>I hate it when someone comes calling whom you'd rather not see and you pretend to be asleep, but then a well meaning member of the household comes and shakes you awake with a look of disapproval at how you've dozed off.
>I hate people who don't close a door that they've opened to go in or out.
do yall have any examples of things written a long time ago that show people still act exactly the same? I remember in crime and punishment (1866) the main guy has to sneak out of his own apartment building because he's avoiding the landlord
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> Wind sweeps the world and rain darkens the village.
>Rumbles roll off the mountains like ocean waves churning.
>The furnace is soothing and the rug is warm.
>Me and my cat are not leaving the house.
Lu You in 1192, Southern Song Dynasty.
>I and Pangur Bán, each of us two at his special art: his mind is at hunting (mice), my own mind is in my special craft.
>I love to rest—better than any fame—at my booklet with diligent science: not envious of me is Pangur Bán: he himself loves his childish art.
>When we are—tale without tedium—in our house, we two alone, we have—unlimited (is) feat-sport—something to which to apply our acuteness.
>It is customary at times by feats of valour, that a mouse sticks in his net, and for me there falls into my net a difficult dictum with hard meaning.
>His eye, this glancing full one, he points against the wall-fence: I myself against the keenness of science point my clear eye, though it is very feeble.
>He is joyous with speedy going where a mouse sticks in his sharp claw: I too am joyous, where I understand a difficult dear question.
>Though we are thus always, neither hinders the other:each of us two likes his art, amuses himself alone.
>He himself is master of the work which he does every day: while I am at my own work, (which is) to bring difficulty to clearness
Irish monk getting bored with the Aeneid in Germany, c. 9th Century
is this translated literally?... like, why?
Because you can't read the original
>be monk
>12th Century
>carefully copying out Pope Gregory's letters
>cat comes in from rain to look at what you're doing
There's a lot of pic related in manuscripts
The classic example would be pompeii's graffiti
The Roman Way by Edith Hamilton includes some analysis of Roman plays which had a lot of similarities with modern sitcoms
>"I learn about other cultures to be racist more accurately."
She's literally me.
There was a Roman historian who wrote a book about Goth society. He talked shit about how Roman society was full of injustice and how the government was run by fools. And he contrasted it directly with how Goth culture showed equality among sexes and how they justly governed. This historian also made everything up about Goth society and had absolutely no fricking clue what he was talking about. Much like current academics.
Didn't Caesar pull the same shit with De Bello Gallico?
It happens a lot and sometimes it's really funny because they're like
>These guys are really weird, they wash every day. Who washes more than once a week? Ew.
:Y
You can totally see her penis in that printing.
That is beautiful. i dont think anything that beautiful has been written since
Are you serious?
This is from the Book of Margery Kemp, a medieval woman who wrote a book about her intense religious experiences (she talks about herself in the third-person, and often calls herself 'this creature'):
>It befel upon a Fryday on Mydsomyr Evyn in rygth hot wedyr, as this creatur was
>komyng fro Yorkeward beryng a botel wyth bere in hir hand and hir husbond a cake in
>hys bosom, he askyd hys wyfe this qwestyon, "Margery, if her come a man wyth a
>swerd and wold smyte of myn hed les than I schulde comown kendly wyth yow as I
>have do befor, seyth me trewth of yowr consciens - for ye sey ye wyl not lye -
>whether wold ye suffyr myn hed to be smet of er ellys suffyr me to medele wyth yow
>agen as I dede sumtyme?" "Alas, ser," sche seyd, "why meve ye this mater and have
>we ben chast this eight wekys?" "For I wyl wete the trewth of yowr hert." And than
>sche seyd wyth gret sorwe, "Forsothe I had levar se yow be slayn than we schuld turne
>agen to owyr unclennesse." And he seyd agen, "Ye arn no good wyfe."
This is my extremely rough modernisation (scholars forgive):
>On a Friday, a Midsummer's Eve in very hot weather, as this creature was coming home from York bearing a bottle of bear in her hand, and her husband holding a cake against his chest, he asked his wife this question: 'Margery, if a man came with a sword, and was going to cut off my head unless I made love to you as I did before, tell me truly by your conscience -- for you say you will not lie -- whether you would suffer my head to be cut off, or else suffer to me to get intimate with you, as I used to?'
>'Alas, sir,' she said, 'why raise this matter? Have we not been chaste these last eight weeks?'
>'Because I want to know the truth of your heart.'
>And then she said with great sorrow, 'Truly I would rather see you be slain than have us turn again to our uncleanliness.'
>And he said again, 'You are not a good wife.'
lmfao what a b***h hope he raped her after
>“When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men … but when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your father who is unseen.”
Jesus calling out woke virtue signalling on twitter since 20 AD.
The Anatomy of Melancholy has a lot of these. Pic rel is a brief excerpt from the intro
On my to-read list, and just moved up about a hundred places.
>Anatomy of Melancholy
I've heard about that book but couldn't find much discussion in the archives. What's the deal with it?
In the dust jacket to Linderholm's mathematics made difficult (funniest book ever) he mentions the anatomy is his favorite book.
There's a copy on project guttenberg but I haven't approached it yet. I still don't know what the heck it is.
It's an essay on being a sadc**t, replete with all of Burton's personal flourish.
What's so great about it?
Haven't finished it just yet, but for me, it's the fact that the book loops back around to the topic of this very thread. There are many passages in it where you're simply reading a guy from the 1600s source other texts and events from antiquity to try and examine a complex emotion humans have felt for ages. I won't say that you're guaranteed to learn anything new from it, but seeing everything about >being a sadc**t written so extensively lends well to discussions with yourself. If nothing else, I'd imagine it can be used as a collection of other old IQfy recs with how many people he namedrops.
Most all of literature which has stood the test of time, main reason it continues to get read.
thanks for your absolutely useless post
Its true, this not some rare thing where a few authors managed to predict something or get lucky. All of Shakespeare applies unless you are a plotgay who can not see your revenge is no different than theirs, they are just more upfront and extreme about it while you are passive aggressive.
>hey which restaurant do you want to eat at? pick a good one
>uhmmmm ACTsually most of all long standing restaurants are good that's why they're still in business
wow thank you for contributing, you've really answered the question you absolute douche
I once read a couple of translated letters from feudal Japan about cats. The first one was written by some peasant complaining about how the kitten he bought to hunt mices grew into a lazy cat that spends its time laying about on a handwoven carpet; which was one of the few expensive things that peasant owned. The whole thing has the air of someone talking fondly about all the shenanigans their pet get up to.
The second one was written by some minor nobleman. It starts with something like "I've discovered the joy of the cat!" and goes on with the guy talking about how beautiful and majestic his cat is and how it's surely the greatest cat in the world.
Actually - since we're talking about cats in ye old Japan on a literature board - I Am a Cat kind fits the bill. It isn't as old but perfectly portrays the kind of mediocre academics and intellectuals you can find in any major city or university.
I remember very vividly a painting I saw once, by one of the Dutch medieval dudes, of the last supper, but underneath the table was a doggo begging, exactly the way my doggo does. He got that doggo pretending to be hungry, haven't been fed in at least three minutes face perfectly.
Ea Nasir
Nikolai's gambling chapters in War and Peace reminds me of IQfy shit
>Nikolai submitted to him, and at one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at the bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came first to hand from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, now counted the cords on his coat and took a card with that number and tried staking the total of his losses on it, then he looked round for aid from the other players, or peered at the now cold face of Dolokhov and tried to read what was passing in his mind.
comfy thread
Quran, Surah 33:53
O believers! Do not enter the homes of the Prophet without permission and if invited for a meal, do not come too early and linger until the meal is ready. But if you are invited, then enter on time. Once you have eaten, then go on your way, and do not stay for casual talk. Such behaviour is truly annoying to the Prophet, yet he is too shy to ask you to leave. But Allah is never shy of the truth.
Found a copy in my library. This book is interesting stuff. Thanks for the recommendation.
I wish we had stuff like this survive from mesoamerica. Like a mayan nobleperson writing about similar topics. Alas.
All have fallen short of the glory of God
-Bible, Romans 5 I think
>After accompanying the Emperor, Korechika returned to his previous place on the veranda beside the cherry blossoms. The Empress pushed aside her curtain of state and came forward as far as the threshold. We were overwhelmed by the whole delightful scene. It was then that Korechika slowly intoned the words of the old poem: The days and the months flow by, But Mount Mimoro lasts forever.
>Deeply impressed, I wished that all this might indeed continue for a thousand years.
She wrote, a thousand years ago.
Sei Shonagon seething is eternal. There's one incident where she thinks up a great retort when she gets home, so she writes the guy a letter to convey her comeback. I think we can all relate.