I love literature and it’s just so damn impossible to give a wholesome reason why. Sometimes, it’s about the way words; mere common-place words are woven together to create an effect so riveting that it makes me want to pick up my pen and do some writing of my own.
Now, I came across this excerpt in Mark Twain’s ‘The Adventure of Tom Sawyer’ and boy, I had an epiphany. I’ll understand if this did not stir similar feeling for you but I just had to post this:
The captive had broken off the stalagmite and upon the stump had placed a stone wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock tick – a desert spoonful once in four and twenty hours.
That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified ; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Colombus sailed ; when the massacre at Lexington was ‘news’. It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick of the night oblivion.
Has everything has a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect’s need? And has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come?
This made my day!