Best work of literature?

[Joe McCarthy]

Novels, poetry, plays, etc.

Some samples:

[Joe McCarthy]

My vote goes to:

[Treffie]

Yep. Far From The Madding Crowd is on my list. Here are a couple of my faves.

[Joe McCarthy]

Honorable mention goes to:



Though it's not so much literature as it is a philosophical and naturalist treatise, imo.

[Wyn]

There can be only one:



Nothing can knock this off the top spot, for me. I believe I even went so far as to quote Oberon in my signature at one point.

From the list given, I'll choose Macbeth. But I would also add Henry V... And The Merchant of Venice, if I can?

I must one day get around to reading Don Quixote, if only because our resident Don has spurred my interest in it.

[Kadu]

Four that happen to come to my mind

[Joe McCarthy]

Lord, what fools these mortals be...

[Joe McCarthy]

I must one day get around to reading Don Quixote, if only because our resident Don has spurred my interest in it.

I hesitate to play into the hands of our resident Spanish chauvinists, but...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2002...manities.books

Don Quixote is the world's best book say the world's top authors

[Treffie]

Special mention to these also





As poetry goes, I'll have to be biased and give this award to my fellow countryman - Dylan Thomas.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[Logan]

Good we must love, and hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good still,
But there are things indifferent,
Which we may neither hate, nor love,
But one, and then another prove,
As we shall find our fancy bent.

Donne

The English Romantic Poets of the early 19c, Ibsen, Chekov and




come to mind.