During moments of heartbreak and confusion, I am reminded of why I want to teach literature. Just the other day, I was sitting in my bed feeling quite alone. My remedy was Rousseau’s Confessions. There is a passage on how he developed his love of reading, and although it had absolutely nothing to do with my current state of mind, I felt at ease. I could say “I feel that, too.”
The number of times literature has brought me back down to earth is infinite, and just about a year ago, I realized that it would be selfish to keep that power to myself. I have developed a moral obligation to teach others how to look at the words of the most profound individuals so they too can join the world of universal truths. This world may be rapidly changing, but love, heartbreak, fear, and joy have created the foundation of humanity. Literature reminds you of that.
Now, I realize that not everyone wants to jump on the Shakespeare Train or the Jane Austen Carriage Ride, but today I want to share with you some pieces of literature that ring true with not just myself, but with the world. Maybe I’ll convince you to change your major (wink).
John Milton’s Paradise Lost
All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
This is Satan speaking. Yes, Satan. I am not saying that I rally behind Lucifer, but this sounds pretty motivational to me. It gives the personification of evil a human-like quality. He just got kicked out of heaven to a pretty abhorrent place. Doesn’t it seem natural to speak as he does? Something to ponder.
John Donne’s “The Sun Rising”
Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
I have yet to see someone else describe love in such a realistic, raw fashion. I mean, think about it. When the sun starts to rise, and you are sleeping next to someone you has become your world, don’t you wish the night was longer? He is literally asking the sun to leave them alone. There is more to the poem, but I’ll leave that to you.
Andrew Marvell’s “The Mower’s Song”
But these, while I with sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine,
That not one blade of grass you spy’d
But had a flower on either side;
I wrote a paper on this poem for a national conference, so I might be biased, but this piece depicts heartbreak perfectly. This mower is heartbroken, and as he looks around, he notices how beautiful nature continues to be. I know that when I am at my lowest points, I become angry when everyone around me seems joyful. How can they be so happy when there is so much grief in my heart? The poem answers it for me: the world moves on.
William Shakespeare’s Hamlet
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how
express and admirable, in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world, the paragon of animals. And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust?
I had to end with this one. Read it. Reread it. Read it a third time. If this isn’t the epitome of the human mind, I don’t know what is. Why are we here? What good am I? What am I? That feeling of insignificance lives in all of us, and if that isn’t unifying, what is?
I could go on for days, but that is what my future profession is for. You don’t have to study literature to feel its power. It doesn’t have to be intimidating; in fact, I find it more welcoming than most people.
