The definition of what constitutes literature is fluid and amorphous—rather or not a book can be considered a legitimate literary classic or a mere popular work is often the subject of debate, but some texts are certainly classics without question. Examples of literature in this vein are the works of Shakespeare, the epic poems of Homer, Milton, and Dante, the sonnets of Petrarch and Keats, the satire of Pope, Voltaire, and Byron, the novels of Dickens, Melville, and Twain. The classics are etched into the fabric of western civilization, and we all encounter them throughout our time in school. But more often than not for students, works of literature are mere tickets to Sparknotes or Shmoop, sources of headaches and confusion, and fountains of boredom, the merit and value of which is lost on the young reader. As a person in their twenties who now possesses a passion for many literary classics, I would not have said the same about myself ten years ago. I often found myself mystified in high school as to how someone could genuinely enjoy reading texts like Hamlet that were simply difficult to understand, or The Iliad that was compelling in theory, but a lot less entertaining than a movie like Troy, which portrays similar subject matter in a much more palatable form. I preferred films to books, songs to poems. I remember my primary motive for reading classic literature in high school was to do well on reading quizzes or tests, not for pleasure or out of interest. However, this all changed in college when I realized the true purpose of literature, and the main reason for its importance—understanding humanity.