There are certain authors that do not turn students on; it is

"There are certain authors that do not turn students on; it is the truth. Homer happens to be one of them." These words, spoken by William Scott, echo across the halls of learning, reverberating with an ancient wisdom, both raw and sobering. For here lies the truth of the ages: not all words, not all writers, nor all poets shall stir the hearts of those who seek knowledge. Indeed, some texts, no matter their weight or grandeur, fail to ignite the soul in the young, the inquisitive, and the eager. And Homer, the father of epic poetry, stands as a towering figure in this paradox.

Let us reflect on Homer: the blind poet of the ancient world, whose Iliad and Odyssey have traveled through centuries, whispering the wisdom of warriors, gods, and the human condition itself. His works have shaped the very foundation of Western literature, guiding minds through the stories of honor, glory, love, and tragedy. Yet, despite the nobility of these ancient words, not all students, not all souls, find themselves moved by the grand sweep of his verses. It is not the fault of the poet, but rather the wayward hearts of those who, perhaps, have not yet learned to listen.

Consider, if you will, the ancient story of Alexander the Great, a boy of destiny, who, upon conquering the lands of Persia, stood weeping before the tomb of Achilles. His heart was stirred, not by his conquests, but by the heroism of a man long dead. Homer’s words had caught the flame of his spirit, and he, in turn, carried it into the world. Yet, such is the mystery of education: why did some, like Alexander, feel the fire in Homer’s tales, while others, though eager, could not find the spark?

This is the great conundrum of learning: not every mind is ready for the same truths at the same time. Homer's words are rich with the complexities of humanity, from the cruelty of war to the tenderness of friendship, the bitterness of loss to the sweetness of victory. His heroes are not gods, but flawed men and women, struggling with their own nature. To see this complexity requires not merely the ability to read, but the wisdom to comprehend, the patience to embrace.

Yet, there is a lesson here for all who seek knowledge. Just as the ancient warrior, whose armor is heavy and whose sword is sharp, must train for years to wield his weapons with mastery, so too must the student prepare to understand the weight of Homer’s words. For not all wisdom comes quickly, and the heart must be tempered to withstand its intensity. Homer is not for those who desire simple answers or quick truths. His works demand of you commitment, endurance, and a willingness to face the darkness of the human spirit.

It is the same in our own lives. There will be books, people, ideas, and dreams that we encounter, and some will stir us to the core, while others will pass us by unnoticed. This is not failure—it is nature itself. And so we must not judge ourselves too harshly when we fail to connect with a great work of literature, or when a mentor’s words fall flat upon our ears. Perhaps the time has not yet come for us to hear them.

The true lesson of this, therefore, is not in the question of why Homer fails to turn some students on, but in the realization that the right words, the right teachings, the right ideas will find us when we are ready. Until then, it is in our quest—our ceaseless journey—that we prepare ourselves for the lessons yet to come. And so, if Homer does not stir your heart today, let it be a reminder that you have yet to reach the place where his truths can set your spirit ablaze. But if, by chance, Homer’s words do find their mark, then you shall know the power of the written word, a power that can alter the course of history itself.