The last time that the local college held a book sale, my daughter picked up a copy of a literature text, printed in 1952. I was more than a little surprised, but I thought 'heck, its her money, she wants to, and there's no harm'. The other night she walked into the bedroom where I was reading and asked me if I wanted to read the text. I demurred, and she said that it was really good, and I should. I thought I would pacify her by leaving it on my nightstand for a while, and then quietly disposing of it. Just now, I started reading the first piece -- a translation of The Illiad.
My golly. This is good stuff!
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