When literature becomes life - Supplemental Essay

books is one of the round beautiful gifts that I received as a homosexual cosmos. Since I was six, I knew that words bushel me; theyre pieces of my genetic and worked up structure. Words neer get old, books neer betray, characters neer part the space theyre invigoration in. I love that permanence, that constant set up that al bearings rest loyal to your age, to the feelings you had when show fourth dimension recitation a book. As an author, I approached literary works with a much much mature, yet disaffected attitude. I hope that writing inevitably to be innovative, shiny, and uncommon. You take on to surprise your readers with distributively paragraph, emotion, gesture. Only an real voice place really collision any(prenominal)ones life and the way that person volition see the man after reading a meter or a novel. You become to the full responsible for the readers move through the creations of your mind. once you accept literature as being a solid pa rt of you, youll n of all time be commensurate to walk away(p) from the stories, metaphors, and hunting ideas that live you as a deliverr. It becomes part of your existence. virtuoso of the first memories I recall as a fry is connected to poetry. My succor grade instructor gave us an appellation to complete in class. We were supposed to write a scant(p) poem ab bug out one of the stories that we latterly read. When my turn came to speak, I was a teensy bit nervous, because the poem I wrote was very(prenominal) different from what my colleagues shargond out before. However, the teacher persuade me to speak, and I did continue. When I stopped reading, she had a strange reflectivity on her face. She told me that some lines from my writing be commodioused to a literary masterpiece written by one of the most brilliant writers of our country. Also, she pointed out that only juicy school seniors are studying it, so there was no way that I could have ever read it. She seemed kayoed and smiled back to me. ecstasy years after, as a senior, I started reading the poem. It was rightfully amazing: the structure, the rhymes, the authors personalised view. When getting to the end, I recognized those ternion lines, and a take out came streaming refine my face. It was my first time reading it, and I had no lucid explanation for what happened long time ago, in elementary school. by chance it was the unconscious, the early dawning hour, a childs imagination. or maybe it was a sign that literature has nothing to do with time, age or rationality, it just lives deep down us. I chose to regard that. \n