Classic Must Read Literature Novels & Stories

I must be the only person in my class that will read a classic novel for anything other than requirement. I couldn’t think of anyone I knew that would pick up Jane Eyre, Little Women, or Tess of the D’Urbervilles for pleasure. In fact, they were not even my first choice. Little Women came in a close second, but Pride and Prejudice will always win out. There was something beautiful about a couple from two different backgrounds traveling along the bumpy road of love until it was undeniable, and there was something even more beautiful about watching that journey happen. Flicking through the pages anxiously waiting for that sweet first kiss, the passion filled argument, the final declaration. Th

he said softly, leaning towards Sammy. - Why? She raised her eyes. – Like, is it not very fashionable to be interested in classical literature? Doyle shrugged. "It's not fashionable to be stupid," he said. - And in the classics you can learn a lot of useful things. Unless, of course, you know where to look. "I didn't know you were a reader," Sammy giggled. “Okay, then how did you figure out Jane Eyre?” - Frog, it's so simple. Travis's blue eyes sparkled. - You look like a heroine.

In every book I read, I always pick up a life lesson. I've read about antagonists who have all the wealth and power they need to survive – all because they've reached a high attainment in education. But their morals are crooked. I don't venture on a path like that. So it doesn't matter that I never went to school. As long as I have morals and principles, I am still acceptable in the society. I think that literature is one of the most significant expressions of humanity. It breaks the stone-hard ice buried within us. It awakens our senses, as well as our subconscious mind to consciousness.

Lucas explained and I turned to him. “I’m really sorry about your mum,” I said sincerely. “What was her favorite thing to read?” Lucas turned to me with a small smile on her face “It was anything between children fiction- she loved the classics, everything written by Charles dickens- that was all she loved and she had an entire section dedicated to it. It’s phenom-“ “Someone is here.” Malcolm said hurridely as he interrupted us, his eyes were hard and focused on Lucas who looked equally as confused.

His eyes never left my face, and I just couldn't bring myself to stare back at him. I was about to leave when I spotted the book he was reading from the corner of my eyes. He had closed the book when I walked in, so I saw the cover and title, "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee. I looked up at him in astonishment, "I didn't think you would be interested in classic literature."

“You don’t exactly give off the warm and approachable vibe.” “That’s because I’m not warm,” he said flatly. “But I am human.” That made me pause. It was the first time he’d said it so directly. As if he needed me to hear it. To believe it. “Do you remember what you read here?” I asked softly. “Mostly old classics. Steinbeck. Hemingway. My mother was obsessed with making me ‘well-read.’” He made air quotes. “Said a man who could understand words could understand people.”

A reader? I feel drawn to the shelf like a moth to a flame. My fingers trail over the spines — classic literature, philosophy, ancient history. Lost in the titles, my eyes land on a beautiful leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights. I rise onto my toes, straining, my fingers just brushing its edge. It wobbles and then falls from the shelf with a heavy thud that sends a cloud of dust into the air making me sneeze twice.

If he can see every move I make, how will I ever make a move against him? During my rampage of a small bookshelf on the wall next to the bed, I find classic books such as, The Catcher in the Rye, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and so on. Spotting amongst the classics a leather bound book with no title or author. I slowly open it and inside handwritten pages are revealed. May 12th 1998

“I know what you mean. I had one too—it was a family outing for us, going to the library. My mom insisted my brother and I read books if we wanted to play video games. I was that nerdy kid who actually preferred reading to gaming. I guess it carried over into adulthood.” Fiona’s gaze focused on his face, and one side of her mouth smirked. “Nothing wrong with that.” Handing the book back to him, she continued to investigate the books lining the shelves. “Do you have a favorite in here or in one of the boxes?” Chris chuckled. “Well, having a degree in English Literature, you’d think so. But I love so many of them. I’m partial to the classics—Keats and Shelley, Lord Byron, Shakespeare…”

Now, she wished she had, as she could have used his advice on how to handle the older man. After a few seconds, she realized she had remained silent too long, and Mr. Warren could misinterpret her quietness. “I actually like to read several genres,” she said in a rush, hoping to distract him from asking her out again. Or, at least, prolong it until she could think of an answer. “I don’t really have a favorite author. How about you?” “Oh, I’m a classics man, myself,” he told her. “I enjoy Hemingway, Hawthorne, Verne. Have you read any of them?”