What are some books recommended for people with depression? Books on life advice, motivation, discipline. Ive read all the stoic philosophers, the Tao te ching, and zhunagzi. — nazgul
Read books that you really, really enjoy reading rather than reading books that you think might offer a cure. — Bitter Crank
If you're completely nuts and enjoy highly abstract approaches, try Anti-Oedipus by Deleuze and Guttari. Without much background it's like reading a self help book written by aliens. — fdrake
I can't stress how much building a daily routing out of the above will benefit your life. Try it for a week or two and report back. — Dogar
What are some books recommended for people with depression? Books on life advice, motivation, discipline. Ive read all the stoic philosophers, the Tao te ching, and zhunagzi. — nazgul
Are you out of your mind?
But man is not made for defeat," he said. "A man can be destroyed but not defeated." I am sorry that I killed the fish though, he thought. Now the bad time is coming and I do not even have the harpoon.
Truman Capote's review: 'that's not writing, that's typing'.I recently read Kerouac's ON the Road. — Bitter Crank
Meditations on Self-Discipline and Failure provides access to the ruminations, practices, and applications of ancient Stoic philosophy as deployed by a contemporary professional philosopher with twenty five years of experience teaching, researching, and publishing articles in academic journals. Each meditation is presented in the second person, encouraging the reader to examine their struggles and failures in the pursuit of self-improvement and enlightenment.
from The Subterraneans.--now Mardou cut out with me, glee eyed, between sets, for quick beers, but at her insistence at the Mask instead where they were fifteen cents, but she had a few pennies herself and we went there and began earnestly talking and getting hightingled on the beer and now it was the beginning--returning to the Red Drum for sets, to hear Bird, whom I saw distinctly digging Mardou several times also myself directly into my eye looking to search if I was really the great writer I thought myself to be as if he knew my thoughts and ambitions or remembered me from other night clubs and other coasts, other Chicagos--not a challenging look but the king and founder of the bop generation at least the sound of it in digging his audience digging his eyes, the secret eyes him-watching, as he just pursed his lips and let great lungs and immortal fingers work, his eyes separate and interested and humane, the kindest jazz musician there could be while being and therefore naturally the greatest--watching Mardou and me in the infancy of our love and probably wondering why, or knowing it wouldn't last, or seeing who it was would be hurt, as now, obviously, but not quite yet, it was Mardou whose eyes were shining in my direction, though I could not have known and now do not definitely know--except the one fact, on the way home, the session over the beer in the Mask drunk we went home on the Third Street bus sadly through night and throb knock neons and when I suddenly leaned over her to shout something further (in her secret self as later confessed) her heart leapt to smell the "sweetness of my breath" (quote) and suddenly she almost loved me--- — Kerouac
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