From science, modestly pursued, with a due consciousness of the extreme finitude of our in

now what else to do but to continue chasing it. Fame and the exhilarating celebrity that accompanies it, force the famous person to participate in his or her own destruction. Ironic, isnt it? Those who gain fame most often gain it as a result of possessing a single talent or skill; singing, dancing, painting, or writing, etc. The successful performer develops a style. that is marketed aggressively and gains some popularity, and it is this popularity that usually convinces the performer to continue performing in the same style, since that is what the public seems to want and to enjoy. But in time, the performer becomes bored singing the same songs in the same way year after year, or the painter becomes bored painting similar scenes or portraits, or the actor is tired of playing the same character repeatedly. The demand of the public holds the artist hostage to his or her own success, fame. If the artist attempts to change his or her style. of writing or dancing or singing, etc. , the audience may turn away and look to confer fleeting fickle fame on another and then, in time, on another, and so on and so on.

山不是山，看水不是水；看山还是山，看水还是水。 这就是说一个人的人生之初纯洁无瑕，初识世界，一切都是新鲜的，眼睛看见什么就是什么，人家告诉他这是山，他就认识了山，告诉他这是水，他就认识了水。 随着年龄渐长，经历的世事渐多，就发现这个世界的问题了。这个世界问题越来越多，越来越复杂，经常是黑白颠倒，是非混淆，无理走遍天下，有理寸步难行，好人无好报，恶人活千年。进入这个阶段，人是激愤的，不平的，忧虑的，疑问的，警惕的，复杂的。人不愿意再轻易地相信什么。人这个时候看山也感慨，看水也叹息，借古讽今，指桑骂槐。山自然不再是单纯的山，水自然不再是单纯的水。一切的一切都是人的主观意志的载体，所谓“好风凭借力，送我上青云”。一个人倘若停留在人生的这一阶段，那就苦了这条性命了。人就会这山望了那山高，不停地攀登，争强好胜，与人比较，怎么做人，如何处世，绞尽脑汁，机关算尽，永无满足的一天。因为这个世界原本就是一个圆的，人外还有人，天外还有天，循环往复，绿水长流。而人的生命是短暂的、有限的，哪里能够去与永恒和无限计较呢?

并不喜欢那些一尘不染的家庭。清洁过了头，家反而不像家。家是给人住的，因此，我想一切都应该以让人不感到别扭为度。过分用心了，人便变成了家的奴隶，整天替家当保姆，不值得。一个让人羡慕的家庭环境，所有的布置，都应该是以能促进家庭成员彼此之间的健康和谐为基本的前提。一个好的家居，要充满人情味，太干净，太讲究，人情味必打折扣。有的人的家庭，喜欢收拾得仅供外宾参观似的，结果，作为家庭的主人，自己也成了无所适从的客人。

大的买，生怕春色不够似的；我则逗留在顶边上的柜台，那儿不起眼地堆着我一个冬天未见的青苹果。相争不下，索性各按自己的偏好买了一网兜，都很不服气的样子，暗笑对方不会享受真正的生活。 小时候吃苹果，我也爱挑红润的．因其意味着成熟．而熟透的水果必然甜美爽口。年岁渐增，熟悉了生活中诸般滋味之后，反倒偏爱上青苹果的那种清甜——带着点酸涩的甜、饱含水分的甜，咬一口有清脆的声响。也许，成熟、甜蜜乃至完美．并非生命的终极意义．更重要的倒是向这一目标趋近过程中万般况味的体验：唇齿之间的那一分青涩在不断转变着，反倒显得生动、真实。正如稚齿孩童可能认定糖果是世界上最好的东西，成人之后反而学会并且喜好品味茶或咖啡——其底蕴更切近于生活的本质。

in taverns, coffee-houses, and other places of public resort, I have thereby an opportunity of observing an infinite variety of characters, which, to a person of contemplative turn, is a much higher entertainment than a view of all the curiosities of art or nature. Amongst a multiplicity of other topics, we took occasion to talk of the different characters of the several nations of Europe; when one of the gentlemen, cocking his hat, and assuming such an air of importance as if he had possessed all the merit of the English nation in his own person, declared that the Dutch were a parcel of avaricious wretches; the French a set of flattering sycophants; that the Germans were drunken sots, and beastly gluttons; and the Spaniards proud, haughty, and surly tyrants; but that in bravery, generosity, clemency, and in every other virtue, the English excelled all the rest of the world.

e kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found? The very stealth, the eerie quietness, of the thing makes it more magical. If all the snow fell at once in one shattering crash, awakening us in the middle of the night the event would be robbed of its wonder. But it flutters down, soundless, hour after hour while we are asleep. Outside the closed curtains of the bedroom a vast transformation scene is taking place, just as if a myriad elves and brownies were at work, and we turn and yawn and stretch and know nothing about it. And then, what an extraordinary change it is! It is as if the house you are in had been dropped down in another continent. Even the inside, which has not been touched. seems different, every room appearing smaller and cosier, just as if some power were trying to turn it into a woodcutters hut or a snug log-cabin.

ads only from train windows. On the journey over to the lake I began to wonder what it would be like. I wondered how time would have marred this unique, this holy spot—the coves and streams, the hills that the sun set behind, the camps and the paths behind the camps. I was sure that the tarred road would have found it out and I wondered in what other ways it would be desolated. It is strange how much you can remember about places like that once you allow your mind to return into the grooves which lead back. You remember one thing, and that suddenly reminds you of another thing. I guess I remembered clearest of all the early mornings, when the lake was cool and motionless, remembered how the bedroom smelled of the lumber it was made of and of the wet woods whose scent entered through the screen. The partitions in the camp were thin and did not extend clear to the top of the rooms, and as I was always the first up I would dress softly so as not to wake the others, and sneak out into the sweet outdoors and start out in the canoe, keeping close along the shore in the long shadows of the pines. I remembered being very careful never to rub my paddle against the gunwale for fear of disturbing the stillness of the cathedral.

鸡产的，因此很偏爱它，捉的蟑螂也专喂给它吃。但日子一久，秘密揭穿了，原来那只唱鸡下蛋很少，而不叫的那只却一天一个，且蛋刚落地就一声不响地离开鸡窝，由那只唱鸡站在蛋边大喊大叫。 闲聊时和朋友谈及此事，他以为我的言外之意不在鸡，而是在论人。说到人，在我们中确实是有很多沉默寡言的人，他们牢牢蹲在自己的岗位上，夜以继日，埋头苦干，替国家创造了大量的物质财富，为人民做出一项又一项的优异成绩。他们像母鸡一样，吞的是粗糠老菜，产下的是蛋，而且往往一声不响。但也有一种人，嘴尖舌长，能说会道，自我吹嘘，滔滔不绝，像那只爱唱的母鸡一样，占着个鸡窝不下蛋。个别恶劣的还窃取别人的成果去报喜称功，一点不觉得惭愧。

出秋比冬为什么更好，也许因为那枝头的几片黄叶，或是那篱畔的几朵残花，在那些上边，是比较冬天更显示了生命，不然，是在那些上面，更使我忆起了生命吧，一只黄叶，一片残英，那在联系着过去与将来吧。它们将更使人凝视，更使人沉思，更使人怀想及希冀一些关于生活的事吧。这样，人曾感到了真实的存在。过去，现在，将来，世界是真实的，人生是真实的，一切都是真实的，所有的梦境，所有的幻想，都是无用的了，无用的事物都一幕幕地掣了过去，我们要向着人生静默，祈祷，来打算一些真实的事物了。 给了人更远的希望，向前的鞭策，意识到了生之实在的，而且给人以“沉着”的力量的，是这正在凋亡着的秋。我爱秋天，我对于这荒凉的秋天有如一位多年的朋友。

lengthen as the sun declines. " It is beautifully said; but, in my opinion, this continual comparing of notes interferes with the involuntary impression of things upon the mind, and hurts the sentiment. If you only hint what you feel in a kind of dumb show, it is insipid; if you have to explain it, it is making a toil of a pleasure. You cannot read the book of nature without being perpetually put to the trouble of translating it for the benefit of others. I am for this synthetical method on a journey in preference to the analytical. I am content to lay in a stock of ideas then, and to examine and anatomize them afterwards. I want to see my vague notions float like the down of the thistle before the breeze, and not to have them entangled in the briars and thorns of controversy. For once, I like to have it all my own way; and this is impossible unless you are alone, or in such company as I do not covet. I have no objection to argue a point with any one for twenty miles of measured road, but not for pleasure.