Read this really interesting write up yesterday. Had to share.

It's by a Roman writer named Petronius, who died in 66 AD!

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There was a married woman in Ephesus of such famous virtue that she drew women even from the neighboring states to gaze upon her.

So when she had buried her husband, the common fashion of following the procession with loose hair, and beating the naked breast in front of the crowd, did not satisfy her. She followed the dead man even to his resting place, and began to watch and weep night and day over the body, which was laid in an underground vault in the Greek fashion. Neither her parents nor her relations could divert her from thus torturing herself, and courting death by starvation. The officials were at last rebuffed and left her. Everyone mourned for her as a woman of unique character, and she was now passing her fifth day without food. A devoted maid sat by the failing woman, shed tears in sympathy with her woes, and at the same time filled up the lamp, which was placed in the tomb, whenever it sank.

There was but one opinion throughout the city, every class of person admitting this was the one true and brilliant example of chastity and love.

At this moment the governor of the province gave orders that some robbers should be crucified near the small building where the lady was bewailing her recent loss. So on the next night, when the soldier who was watching the crosses, to prevent anyone taking down a body for burial, observed a light shining plainly among the tombs, and heard a mourner's groans, a very human weakness made him curious to know who it was and what he was doing. So he went down into the vault, and on seeing a very beautiful woman, at first halted in confusion, as if he had seen a portent or some ghost from the world beneath. But afterwards noticing the dead man lying there, and watching the woman's tears and the marks of her nails on her face, he came to the correct conclusion, that she found her regret for the lost one unendurable.

He therefore brought his supper into the tomb, and began to urge the mourner not to persist in useless grief, and break her heart with unprofitable sobs: for all men made the same end and found the same resting place, and so on with the other platitudes which restore wounded spirits to health. But she took no notice of his sympathy, struck and tore her breast more violently than ever, pulled out her hair, and laid it on the dead body.

Still the soldier did not retire, but tried to give the poor woman food with similar encouragements, until the maid, who was no doubt seduced by the smell of his wine, first gave in herself, and put out her hand at his kindly invitation, and then, refreshed with food and drink, began to assail her mistress's obstinacy, and say, "What will you gain by all this, if you faint away with hunger, if you bury yourself alive, if you breathe out your undoomed soul before fate calls for it? Believest thou that the ashes or the spirit of the buried dead can feel thy woe? [Virgil, Æneid, iv, 34.] Will you not begin life afresh? Will you not shake off this womanish failing, and enjoy the blessings of the light so long as you are allowed? Your poor dead husband's body here ought to persuade you to keep alive."

People are always ready to listen when they are urged to take a meal or to keep alive. So the lady, being thirsty after several days' abstinence, allowed her resolution to be broken down, and filled herself with food as greedily as the maid, who had been the first to yield.

Well, you know which temptation generally assails a man on a full stomach. The soldier used the same insinuating phrases which had persuaded the lady to consent to live, to conduct an assault upon her virtue. Her modest eye saw in him a young man, handsome and eloquent.

The maid begged her to be gracious, and then said, "Wilt thou fight love even when love pleases thee? Or dost thou never remember in whose lands thou art resting?" [Virgil, Æneid, iv, 38.]

I need hide the fact no longer. The lady ceased to hold out, and the conquering hero won her over entire. So they passed not only their wedding night together, but the next and a third, of course shutting the door of the vault, so that any friend or stranger who came to the tomb would imagine that this most virtuous lady had breathed the last over her husband's body. Well, the soldier was delighted with the woman's beauty, and his stolen pleasure. He bought up all the fine things his means permitted, and carried them to the tomb the moment darkness fell.

So the parents of one of the crucified, seeing that the watch was ill-kept, took their man down in the dark and administered the last rite to him. The soldier was eluded while he was off duty, and next day, seeing one of the crosses without its corpse, he was in terror of punishment, and explained to the lady what had happened. He declared that he would not wait for a court-martial, but would punish his own neglect with a thrust of his sword. So she had better get ready a place for a dying man, and let the gloomy vault enclose both her husband and her lover.

The lady's heart was tender as well as pure. "Heaven forbid," she replied, "that I should look at the same moment on the dead bodies of two men whom I love. No, I would rather make a dead man useful, than send a live man to death."

After this speech she ordered her husband's body to be taken out of the coffin and fixed up on the empty cross. The soldier availed himself of this far-seeing woman's device, and the people wondered the next day by what means the dead man had ascended the cross.

Nice and captivating...

Ha!
nka dikwa risky oh!
captivating though.

Do not expect loyalty in death. Trust is fleeting, love is replaceable.

Hahaha! I love the ending. Awesome piece. Love truly isn't the magical feeling people think it to be.

So people knew this almost 2,000 years ago, yet there are people today who believe there's a love that pops out of thin air, and neither wanes nor dies no matter what.

@BuddhaPalm, red pill brother. This below used to be one of my favorite poems and it's not hard to see why:

Is My Team Ploughing
By A. E. Housman

“Is my team ploughing,
   That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
   When I was man alive?”

Ay, the horses trample,
   The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
   The land you used to plough.

“Is football playing
   Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
   Now I stand up no more?”

Ay the ball is flying,
   The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
   Stands up to keep the goal.

“Is my girl happy,
   That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
   As she lies down at eve?”

Ay, she lies down lightly,
   She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
   Be still, my lad, and sleep.

“Is my friend hearty,
   Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
   A better bed than mine?”

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
   I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart,
   Never ask me whose.

A wise widow.

The heart is infinite. Love lives on.

BoboYekini:
@BuddhaPalm, red pill brother. This below used to be one of my favorite poems and it's not hard to see why:

Is My Team Ploughing
By A. E. Housman

“Is my team ploughing,
   That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
   When I was man alive?”

Ay, the horses trample,
   The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
   The land you used to plough.

“Is football playing
   Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
   Now I stand up no more?”

Ay the ball is flying,
   The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
   Stands up to keep the goal.

“Is my girl happy,
   That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
   As she lies down at eve?”

Ay, she lies down lightly,
   She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
   Be still, my lad, and sleep.

“Is my friend hearty,
   Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
   A better bed than mine?”

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
   I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart,
   Never ask me whose.

Yekini my good friend. The show always goes on...

You have good taste in poems. Which others do you like? They don't have to be related.

BuddhaPalm:


Yekini my good friend. The show always goes on...

You have good taste in poems. Which others do you like? They don't have to be related.

Ha my bro, I loved the arts when I was still a sickly romantic. Not so much now that I have been consumed by red pill fire.
I had/have a taste for the melancholy - John Keats, Rudyard Kipling, Yates, Ezra Pound,
I can still recite a few sef, but when people ask my favorite poem I like to quote this from the movie 'The Grey' :

"Once more into the fray...
Into the last good fight I'll ever know...
Live and die on this day...
Live and die on this day..."

Meh, has more impact when you've seen the film. Haha.

BoboYekini:
Ha my bro, I loved the arts when I was still a sickly romantic. Not so much now that I have been consumed by red pill fire.
I had/have a taste for the melancholy - John Keats, Rudyard Kipling, Yates, Ezra Pound,
I can still recite a few sef, but when people ask my favorite poem I like to quote this from the movie 'The Grey' :

"Once more into the fray...
Into the last good fight I'll ever know...
Live and die on this day...
Live and die on this day..."

Meh, has more impact when you've seen the film. Haha.

Badt guy...

Not seen The Grey. Will check it out one of these days.

BuddhaPalm:


Badt guy...

Not seen The Grey. Will check it out one of these days.

Ok brah. By the way, thank you again for those RSD CDs.

BoboYekini:
Ok brah. By the way, thank you again for those RSD CDs.

Oh man! That was you.

Was this your username then?

BuddhaPalm:

Oh man! That was you.
Was this your username then?

Haha no. I had an alternate.