They are called the classics. They have made it to the top of the heap and have stayed there over the years. Maybe it’s me, but I don’t see it. I have read them and, I’m sorry but they just don’t grab me. I attribute some of the disconnect to the passage of time. People wrote differently back then, and different things were important than they are today.
Standing in a room
constructed in 1875 and looking out the window I wouldn’t have a clear view of
anything. The glass might not be all
that clear, there may be air bubbles in it, and it could possibly be wavy. It was simply a different time. Writing was a slower, a more tedious process,
filled with heavy descriptions that no one today can relate to, unless they’re
a historian, excited about the old days.
Even so, I wonder what those books on the table are about.
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