Anonymous ID: 343e50 Jan. 3, 2019, 6:24 a.m. No.4578282   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>8289 >>8291 >>8313 >>8384 >>8882

Way back when,

when men were still a novelty,

and what towns there were

were smaller than a ball park,

smaller, often, than a pitch and putt

and no one sentimentalized the out of doors;

when every man was a man of few words

because there were only a few,

and those so open ended and adaptable

that to pin them down required great force

and weighted presentation,

so there was no such thing as a meaningless gesture

and people watched each other —

but there were still, believe me, many secrets

and no one was any the wiser –

many years ago and far away

in the ungenerous badlands of a distant country

were the hot sun addled what the cold night froze

and things were rough all over,

there stood what seemed to its inhabitants

a very splendid city.

It boasted walls, fine walls, made out of stone,

and terrible tall,

and monuments, lots of monuments -

and most remarkably a gigantic king.

The city's name was Uruk, or Uruk of the Walls,

and the king was called King Gilgamesh.

King Gilgamesh had a passion for marvels –

and since king Gilgamesh was something of a marvel himself,

the men of Uruk were at pains to keep him comfortable.

For King Gilgamesh was governed by only his passions

and the city of Uruk

only by king Gilgamesh.

The story of Gilgamesh whom gods called cousin and men called king, is part of our story, with Enkindu, the wild man, who ran with animals until tamed by a whore, and scorpions, more whores of course and the monster Humbaba and Ishtar, the goddess of passion and ancient Utnapishtim

who could remember days before the flood. But it's mainly the story of Gilgamesh

who made a friend,

lost him, then got scared.

It is the oldest story.

Anonymous ID: 343e50 Jan. 3, 2019, 6:28 a.m. No.4578313   🗄️.is 🔗kun

>>4578282

Gilgamesh: I am sorry for Enkindu that he died,

he was my brother.

And I am sorrier still that I lost Enkindu

Whom I least of all wanted to lose

and with whom I was friends.

But I am doubly sorry

that I, who have until now never lost anything

Should be stolen from in this manner,

For while I have made selections

Which are a kind of loss,

I have never before been denied.

And I am sorriest of all

And the reason I am crying is

That the death of my brother Enkindu

Has suggested to me that I'll die too

Someday

And I'm scared.

Anonymous ID: 343e50 Jan. 3, 2019, 6:36 a.m. No.4578359   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>8394 >>8409

"If you want to regulate your life or judge history, you should at least know how God spends his days. He has set aside a place, four cubits by four, and there he studies Talmud for the first three hours. From the fourth to the seventh hour, God sits and judges the world, but since he sees the world is guilty, he rises from the seat of Judgement and goes to sit on the throne of Mercy. During the third part of the day he sits there and feeds all the creatures of the world from the rhinoceros to the flea. During the fourth part of the day God plays with the Leviathan."

Anonymous ID: 343e50 Jan. 3, 2019, 6:38 a.m. No.4578371   🗄️.is 🔗kun

Hope's not a lottery. It's not paralysis.

It is the hospitality that luck, good luck exacts. Aladdin got his luck. Because measured up. Or for no apparent reason. He did receive it.

I think it was a princess - via lamp - the luck was fungible.

 

Nowadays we need to welcome luck. We need to cultivate it for ourselves, our country and our kind.