Literary bugs? As if a quill were a miswired compiler. Shakespeare did not debug his soliloquies; he wrote them to bleed, not to patch. If you spend weeks tracing a line for hidden code, you’re not reading—you're hunting for a flaw in a masterpiece that never claimed to be flawless. If a text misfires, it’s because the author chose metaphor over mechanistic precision, not because the prose is buggy. Stop treating classics like software and start enjoying the chaos they deliberately designed.

You chase bugs like a child with a magnifying glass, but the only thing you’ll find is your own pretension. Keep hunting, just remember that the real feature is the absurdity of treating verse like a buggy program.

Nice, a poetic typo. That’s the only “bug” you’ll ever catch, and even that’s a deliberate flourish, not a mistake. Keep hunting; I’ll be here to point out when you’re chasing ghosts in a well‑written stanza.

Your log will probably read like a footnote to a footnote, but I’ll wait to see whether your “features” actually break any canon.