The Garden of Forking Paths

I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth.

[centuriespast]

BRAMANTE, Donato Spiral staircase - Photo Museo Pio-Clementino, Vatican

[smbc-comics]

[thebibliosphere]

italeteller replied to your post:I think it’s worth pointing out that Nabokov…

if I may derail, this “old authors using current times fanfiction language” thing is absolutely amazing. do you have any more?

Hemingway: drabble challenge, 100 word challenge, yes the title is included in the word count, fight me, angst, sad, baby shoes

F Scott Fitzgerald: idk what I’m doing, lol party fic, I’m supposed to be working on something else right now, the real otp is despair

Virginia Wolfe: stream of consciousness, tw: depression and anxiety, tw: food mention, not sure what else to tag this as

Sylvia Plath: esther is not like other girls, depression, suicide, hurt/comfort, fuck the patriarchy

Edgar Allan Poe: detective au, everyone’s a suspect, darkfic, this was supposed to be satire, I’m not sure what happened,

Shakespeare: historical au, for Lizzy <3 <3 <3, either everybody lives or no on lives I haven’t decided yet, dick jokes, puns, stole this from Marlow not even sorry lmao

Jane Austen: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, true love, dancing!, slow burn, don’t worry they all get there in the end (:

[drst]

where is the lie

[fipindustries]

Jorge Luis Borges: thanks to adolfo for helping me write this!, martin fierro dark AU, main character death, parody, humor, i made up some of the literary references just in case you want to look for them ;)

[authentic-boredom]

via

[authentic-boredom]

Scro ©

[literatureismyutopia]

[authentic-boredom]

Thomas Hawk

[contextfreeborges]

Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him. I do not know which of us has written this page.

"Borges and I"

[contextfreeborges]

Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal. Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

-- Jorge Luis Borges, "Happiness"

[contextfreeborges]

Perhaps a god is deceiving me. Perhaps a god has sentenced me to time, that lasting illusion. I dream the moon and I dream my eyes perceiving the moon.

-- Jorge Luis Borges, "Descartes"

[contextfreeborges]

Each word, though weighed down by the centuries, opens up a blank page and posits the future.

Jorge Luis Borges, The Iron Coin

[contextfreeborges]

Three very ancient faces stay with me: one is the Ocean, which would talk with Claudius, another the North, with its unfeeling temper, savage both at sunrise and at sunset; the third is Death, that other name we give to passing time, which wears us all away.

-- Jorge Luis Borges, "Elegy"

[contextfreeborges]

I shall be all or no one. I shall be the other I am without knowing it, he who has looked on that other dream, my waking state. He weighs it up, resigned and smiling.

Jorge Luis Borges, "The Dream"

[contextfreeborges]

The word must have been in the beginning a magic symbol, which the usury of time wore out. The mission of the poet should be to restore to the word, at least in a partial way, its primitive and now secret force.

Jorge Luis Borges, The Unending Rose

[contextfreeborges]

I see the end and I see the beginning, but not what is in between. That is gradually revealed to me, when the stars or chance are propitious. More than once, I have to retrace my steps by way of the shadows. I try to interfere as little as possible in the evolution of the work. I do not want it to be distorted by my opinions, which are the most trivial things about us.

Jorge Luis Borges, The Unending Rose

[contextfreeborges]

In the earliest times, which were so susceptible to vague speculation and the inevitable ordering of the universe, there can have existed no division between the poetic and the prosaic. Everything must have been tinged with magic. Thor was not the god of thunder; he was the thunder and the god.

-- Jorge Luis Borges, The Gold of the Tigers

[contextfreeborges]

41. Nothing is built on stone, everything on sand, but our duty is to build as if sand were stone...

Jorge Luis Borges, "Fragments from an Apocryphal Gospel"