Essay On Books Which Have Influenced Me.There are, indeed, books and books and there are books. Which as Lamb said? are not books at all. I have come across both the types trashy as well as the useful. Both have left their impression behind, but I shall mention only those which influenced my mind for the better. Looking back on the long vista of years I think Jane Eyre was the first book that I read twice and would be glad to read it a third time if somebody presented it to me.
I was, I think, fifteen when I first came upon it and what appealed to me most in it was the adorable fidelity and affection with which Charlotte Bronte had written of children. The tragic childhood of Jane Eyre wrought upon me a certain charm of attraction as well as 'compassion. It is generally said that the true tears are those which are called forth by the beauty- of poetry.
But the true tears are also those, of a yet rarer kind, which are called forth by the beauty of goodness and of such goodness. I had an over following abundance in Jane Eyre. Her hero. Rochester is a wonderful and incomparable figure. How she came first, to conceive and finally to fashion that 'perfect study of noble. faithful and suffering manhood was and still is a puzzle to me.
The next person in order of time was Shakespeare. He did not impress me at all at that time. I am not ashamed to make this confession. for I have now made amends and Shakespeare has been placed on the pedestal he deserves. Macbeth was the first drama that fell into my hands. I was horrified at the diabolical crimes and tried to seek refuge in All 's well That Ends well, lured by the title.
I very soon concluded that the title was supremely cynical one. I detested Betram and was absolutely disgusted Helena falling in love with Parolles -- that bragging coward. Shakespeare was done for. I did not read anything more by him for a couple of years. .
Having already read two or three abridged novels of Dickens I began to feel that I was qualified enough to approach the man in person. And I think, I did well in choosing "David Copper field- as the medium of my communion with that great mind. How closely Davy's childhood resembled mine. how I felt my heart go towards him and how I wept with him and for him. I can never forget.
He had lost his father and was badly treated by his stepfather. I had lost my mother and was similarly treated by step-mother. His mother was weak but always loving. My father was weak and always loving. It seemed that Dickens had really meant to point me. Side by side with Dickens I came under the influence of
I lyron.
I had recently been discouraged in .my love for Rufia and his I larlow and Manfred with their burden of melancholy on them save me comfort. I kept repeating to myself. My days are in the yellow leaf, The fruits and flowers of love are gone. The worm, the canker and the grief Are mine alone.But that was only a temporary' phase. As soon as I came over iii ill-advised infatuation for Rufia, I hated Byron, for I loved life.
Wordsworth. I thought might give me solace. But his transcendentalism and philosophies scared me away and I found comfort and an echo of my heart in Shelly's unbridled desires. How limp, I ind continue under his charm. I do not know. His idealism, Hope mankind, his pursue of intellectual beauty, sympathy for
I was, I think, fifteen when I first came upon it and what appealed to me most in it was the adorable fidelity and affection with which Charlotte Bronte had written of children. The tragic childhood of Jane Eyre wrought upon me a certain charm of attraction as well as 'compassion. It is generally said that the true tears are those which are called forth by the beauty- of poetry.
But the true tears are also those, of a yet rarer kind, which are called forth by the beauty of goodness and of such goodness. I had an over following abundance in Jane Eyre. Her hero. Rochester is a wonderful and incomparable figure. How she came first, to conceive and finally to fashion that 'perfect study of noble. faithful and suffering manhood was and still is a puzzle to me.
The next person in order of time was Shakespeare. He did not impress me at all at that time. I am not ashamed to make this confession. for I have now made amends and Shakespeare has been placed on the pedestal he deserves. Macbeth was the first drama that fell into my hands. I was horrified at the diabolical crimes and tried to seek refuge in All 's well That Ends well, lured by the title.
I very soon concluded that the title was supremely cynical one. I detested Betram and was absolutely disgusted Helena falling in love with Parolles -- that bragging coward. Shakespeare was done for. I did not read anything more by him for a couple of years. .
Having already read two or three abridged novels of Dickens I began to feel that I was qualified enough to approach the man in person. And I think, I did well in choosing "David Copper field- as the medium of my communion with that great mind. How closely Davy's childhood resembled mine. how I felt my heart go towards him and how I wept with him and for him. I can never forget.
He had lost his father and was badly treated by his stepfather. I had lost my mother and was similarly treated by step-mother. His mother was weak but always loving. My father was weak and always loving. It seemed that Dickens had really meant to point me. Side by side with Dickens I came under the influence of
I lyron.
I had recently been discouraged in .my love for Rufia and his I larlow and Manfred with their burden of melancholy on them save me comfort. I kept repeating to myself. My days are in the yellow leaf, The fruits and flowers of love are gone. The worm, the canker and the grief Are mine alone.But that was only a temporary' phase. As soon as I came over iii ill-advised infatuation for Rufia, I hated Byron, for I loved life.
Wordsworth. I thought might give me solace. But his transcendentalism and philosophies scared me away and I found comfort and an echo of my heart in Shelly's unbridled desires. How limp, I ind continue under his charm. I do not know. His idealism, Hope mankind, his pursue of intellectual beauty, sympathy for
un'\Noes of the suffering humanity have an interesting appeal for
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