I can tell you most everything there is to know about literature, if you’re in the eleventh grade. I know the ins and outs, the ups and downs, the diction and syntax. I can tell you about communism from the point of view of Arthur Miller, I can tell you about point of view from the point of view of Mcdougal-Littel. But it is my point of view I want to discuss today. I can tell you most everything you need to know about literature, but I can’t explain brotherhood. My siblings and I don’t talk much. I mean, there really isn’t much to say. We’re all pretty identical, and I think that we spend way too much time all shelved together. I’ve had a few identical twins pass over my pages in the past, and they always get a lot of attention. But I think there is something about having 15,000 siblings (more or less, I cannot tell you anything about math) that makes people feel kind of weird. It probably doesn’t help that we’re all textbooks and we’re hated by the majority. They think we are boring, or redundant. Good word, redundant. I can tell you all about redundant. I have 15 (see, the math thing again) chapters on “symbolism” and in all honesty, I can tell you all about symbols. Symbols, symbols, symbols, symbols. But I can’t tell you about how symbols affect the soul. That’s called irony, which I can tell you all about. Irony is the fact that I have thousands of peers that are perfectly identical to me and we can’t seem to find any common ground. Irony is the fact that I can tell you all about irony, but you probably wouldn’t even care to learn about it. I can tell you everything there is to learn about motif but it takes your observant mind to find the “decorative design or pattern” within my pages. I can tell you all about it, but I can’t show you. I can tell you everything there is to know about literature if you’re in the eleventh grade, but I can’t teach you.