Classic literature is fast becoming a lost art, deteriorated by only the indelicate forces of mankind upon its ever-flowing, gentle verses.
Many of the great stories that could have been told about brave people, powerful dynasties, romantic interludes, intrigue and adventure, have all been tragically lost to modern-day illiteracy. Stories that could have lit up the imagination, inspired brilliance, and motivated people with literary melodies that lift the soul to the everlasting heights of an optimistic playground called self-worth; to live on the high side of life, instead of pining the swansong of failure that infects the intellect with ideas of defeat, are absent from the repertoire of works that once gave literature its nobility.
Up into the heights, is where man is supposed to live; not in the squalor of impoverished thoughts where hope cannot survive. Man is no more meant for meanness, than he is for stupidity.
Literature, which bonds man to his soul, his soul to God, and his God-intuned soul back to mankind, is more precious than work-a-day education which brings in its wake nothing greater than material wealth and power; for the treasure of the soul is incalculable and nothing less than priceless.
With the abandonment of moral-rich literature, abuse has flourished. It grows spectacular weeds which intoxicate the mind to believe that life without virtue has reward.
But for those who relish in the absurd, who delight in the perverse, who bask themselves in the pleasures that the fruits of greed have produced, who take pride in those things that selfishness has won them, will they care that virtuous thoughts and noble deeds are nearly extinct from mankind?
If men who refer to themselves as honorable, continue to sit idly by and let the few remaining flowers of heart-worthy thoughts fade, without caring to cultivate the seeds of good and virtuous ideas, where will virtue spring anew?
The enriched fields of philosophies that once produced prosperity for the people of the world, have been left fallow while men go off and indulge in the pleasures of the world and write about their perversities.
But the world is a treacherous place without the light of the soul lit within the heart. If one leaves the heart as dark as a cave, bats of hate will surely take up residence.
The mind that loves the world will be jilted by her, for she is an unfaithful mistress. She will wile and woe until the mentality turns to dust.
The person who courts philosophy will discover a fair maiden of truth and beauty. She will urge one in every way to see the beauty in nature and the magnificence of the inner self in everyone.
Great literature is more than the writing or reading of books. It is an intimate experience of life that is shared between the writer and the reader; it is a sharing of conversation between person and person. It’s where the mysteries of life can be presented, as a teacher would give over a lesson; and where the reader can become the student learning about things that someone cared to share with them.
Most of all, classic literature is everyone’s treasure. It belongs to the world. Every individual can dip into its vast storehouse and retrieve something from it that can make their life better. The taking of knowledge from its endless archives will never empty or deplete it. There will always be something for the next person to retrieve value from.
Well wishers and sponsors of classic literature have taken upon themselves the task to save that which is rarer than the rarest bird or gem, for literature once gone, takes with it all of mankind’s heritage, traditions and accumulated knowledge of the world, life, the universe, and God.
Sponsors can bring richness of character to the world by helping great works to be written and preserved.
Literature is more than a book to be read or written, it is life itself expressed from one heart to the next. Without good literature, the expression of spirit called human nature, cannot and will not survive.
“Some books leave us free, and some books make us free.” ~ Emerson.
“Books are the treasured wealth of the world, the fit inheritance of generations and nations.” ~ Thoreau.
Copyright The Maniscalco Family ~ 1994