Here in my room in Bacolod, I found my old college book “Prentice Hall Literature World Masterpieces,” a huge volume of over a thousand pages of prose, poetry, and drama from all over the world and from the beginning of the written word.
It’s actually a pretty magnificent book.
And I started going through the pages and I realized I had only read what my professor told me to read from the book — a poem or short story or play here and there — but I never really went out of my way to read it on my own.
I do remember referencing it again when I taught World Literature that one time. Picked out around five or six works from the book so I could access good choices of Middle Eastern Literature and African Literature.
Going through it now, I found a page that had words from Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot that just hit me like a ton of bricks:
The power of Literature. There’s just no escape from it. It will seek you out and try to change you when it can.