In the years to come when we have long since left this earthly confine, how will we compare with the likes of Tolstoy, Rand, Shakespeare, Kafka, C.S. Lewis, Conrad, etc…? Will we measure up or are we even supposed to? There are so many brilliant writers out there today with the promise of even more great authors to come. Even with that in mind, I still have a hard time comparing anyone to Tolstoy whose works have profoundly affected me or Shakespeare, whose prose I would recite and act out as a young child for my grandmother.
Maybe it isn’t supposed to matter. Afterall, it isn’t a competition. It’s just hard to imagine that someday we could be tomorrow’s legends of literature.