Stacks of Books

I recently came across this picture while I was wasting time on the internet, and I just think it's one of the most fantastic and accurate things I've ever seen.  I suppose the picture mostly speaks for itself, but, for the sake of a blogpost, I guess I'll talk about it for a bit.

My favorite thing about this is that it takes into account how, without knowledge of the outside world, without the glimpse of human nature and the myriad of themes and storylines books can offer, an individual really is just stuck in his own little bubble.  He is just stuck in the little world of his head and the few people he talks to and, really, it could all be very happy (his bubble is even complete with the clichéd sunshine and butterflies image).

When you just beginning looking beyond your horizons and at the world beyond--when you pick up those first few books of real literature--it could all seem quite dark, which I believe is what the second man is demonstrating.  When you just emerge from that cocoon, everything can seem quite disappointing and hopeless--things aren't a fairytale, you realize.  There aren't picturesque, perfect endings, and sometimes the worst things happen to the best people (and the worst people often get away with the best things).  

Towards the end of our trilogy, the final stage is wisdom.  Nirvana.  Books can bring about the greatest understanding about the littlest things and that’s why I think they are so important.  Stories themselves are important.  And, although I’m sure I don’t have to tell anyone here this, I hope that we all keep reading until we are like that third man, looking off into the sunset.