There rise authors now and then, who seem proof against the mutability of language, because they have rooted themselves in the unchanging principles of human nature.
Washington IrvingRead
The land of literature is a fairy land to those who view it at a distance, but, like all other landscapes, the charm fades on a nearer approach, and the thorns and briars become visible.
Interpretation
Literature appears enchanting from afar, but closer examination reveals its complexities and challenges.
Washington Irving's quote suggests that while literature may seem magical and idyllic when viewed from a distance, a closer look uncovers the struggles and imperfections within it. The beauty of storytelling and writing can sometimes mask the hard work, difficulties, and flaws that are inherent in the creative process, just as a beautiful landscape may hide its own obstacles.
In practice
In a book club discussion, one might say, 'As Irving pointed out, literature can seem magical until we dig deeper.'
There rise authors now and then, who seem proof against the mutability of language, because they have rooted themselves in the unchanging principles of human nature.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.
The easiest thing to do, whenever you fail, is to put yourself down by blaming your lack of ability for your misfortunes.
If I can, by a lucky chance, in these uneasy days, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sadness; if I can, how and then, prompt a happier view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humor with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, I shall not have written in vain.
Literature got me into this mess and literature is going to have to get me out of it.
My last vivid boyhood fright from books came when I was 15; I was visiting my uncle and aunt in Greenwich, and, emboldened by my success with 'The Waste Land,' I opened their copy of 'Ulysses.' The whiff of death off those remorseless, closely written pages overpowered me. So: back to soluble mysteries, and jokes that were not cosmic.
The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died, and then queen died of grief is a plot.
I've read everything Thomas Wolfe ever wrote; my brother and I memorized whole chapters of 'You Can't Go Home Again' and 'Look Homeward, Angel.'
If one believes that words are acts, as I do, then one must hold writers responsible for what their words do.
Every individual ought to know at least one poet from cover to cover: if not as a guide through the world, then as a yardstick for the language.
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