The whole of world literature ought to become the object of numerous and discerningly conceived prostheses. Let me offer two examples, both bilingual. An anecdote embellishes the first. In the second example, I may be excused for calling on personal memories. More than a half century ago, filled with wonder by the poems of John Keats, I was dawdling in the Jardin des Plantes.
Progress implies it.
It embraces an author's words, uses his expressions, rejects false ideas, and replaces them with true ideas. And this brings me to the question of plagiarism. Occasionally, we discover that a structure we believed to be entirely new had in fact already been discovered or invented in the past, sometimes even in a distant past. Thus justice is done, and each is rewarded according to his merit. One may ask what would happen if the Oulipo suddenly ceased to exist.