Then, in somewhat a more heightened tone, I told how, though their great-grandmother Field loved all her grand-children, yet in an especial manner she might be said to love their uncle, John L.—, because he was so handsome and spirited a youth, and a king to the rest of us; and, instead of moping about in solitary comers, like some of us, he would mount the most mettlesome horse he could get, when but an imp no bigger than themselves, and make it carry him half over the county in a morning, and join the hunters when there were any out—and yet he loved the old great house and gardens too, but had too much spirit to be always pent up within their bounties—and how their uncle grew up to man’s estate as brave as he was handsome, to the admiration of everybody, but of their great-grandmother Field most especially; and how he used to carry me upon his back when I was a lame—footed boy—for he was a good bit older than me—many a mile when I could not walk for pain; —and how in after life he became lame-footed too, and I did not always (I fear) make allowances enough for him when he was impatient and in pain, nor remember sufficiently how considerate he had been to me when I was lame-footed; and how when he died, though he had not been dead an hour, it seemed as if he had died a great while ago, such a distance there is betwixt life and death; and how I bore his death ask thought pretty well at first, but afterwards it haunted and haunted me; and though I did not cry or take it to heart as some do, and as I think he would have done if I had died, yet I missed him all day long, and knew not till then how much I had loved him, I missed his kindness, and I missed his crossness, and wished him to be alive again, to be quarrelling with him (for we quarreled sometimes), rather than not have him again, and was as uneasy without him, as he their poor uncle must have been when the doctor took off his limbo Here the children fell a crying, and asked if their little mourning which they had on was not for uncle John, and they looked up, and prayed me not to go on about their uncle, but to tell them some stories about their pretty dead mother.
Then I told how for seven long years, in hope sometimes, sometimes in despair, yet persisting ever, I courted the fair Alice W. and, as much as children could understand, I explained to them what coyness, and difficulty, and denial meant in madness—when suddenly turning to Alice, the soul of the first Alice looked out at her eyes with such a reality of representment, that I became in doubt which of them stood there before me, or whose that bright hair was; and while stood gazing, both the children gradually grew fainter to my view, receding, and still receding, fill nothing at last but two mournful features were seen in the utter most distance, which, without speech, strangely impressed upon me the effects of speech: “We are not of Alice, nor of thee, nor are we children at all. The children of Alice call Barman father. We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, and a name” and immediately awaking, I found myself quietly seated in my bachelor armchair, where I had fallen asleep, with the faithful Bridget unchanged by my side—but John L. (or James Elia) was gone forever.
人的青春
Man’s Youth
托马斯·沃尔夫 / Thomas Wolfe
人的青春是件令人惊奇的事：它充满苦恼和神奇，直到青春逝去，他才明白青春的真正内涵。青春是一个人不肯轻易失去的东西，每当他怀着无尽的悲痛和悔恨，亲眼看着青春流逝，他一定会遗憾终身。但是对于青春的逝去，他又怀着一种忧愁而神秘的快感，即使有种魔力能让他青春永驻，他也永远不愿再次重新体验。
这是为什么呢？因为在青春期，生命的奇异和苦涩表现得最为显著。但是，这种生命的奇异和苦涩的本质是什么呢？它让我们在年轻的时候带着苦痛和喜悦，感觉如此强烈，如此难以形容。其本质就是：即便我们富有，却很贫穷；即便权势在握，却一无所有；即便到处看着、吸着、闻着、尝着这世上不计其数的财富和荣耀，以无可争议的自信断定这精彩人生的所有组成结构——最多的幸运、财富、人类生活中最美好快乐的生活——属于我们——在我们准备一投足、一举手、一开口的瞬间，就会立刻、马上、永远地归我们所有——然而，我们感到能真正保留、维持、带走和拥有的实际上什么都没有。一切都过去了，没有什么会持久不变：我们才把它放到手上，它就烟消云散，不复存在；魔鬼又开始吞噬我们的心灵；然后我们才看清自己，看清我们生命的方向。
年轻人强健、疯狂、自信，同样也会很失落。他拥有一切，却无以致用，他永远都靠着强健的体魄，对着心中的障碍知难而上；他是一股波浪，在无限的苍穹下，在海洋中爆发自己的力量，他伸出手，去抓一缕着色的轻烟；他想拥有一切，渴求世间所有的东西，觉得自己有力量得到它们，结果却徒劳无功。最后，自己的力量毁灭了他，自己的欲望吞噬了他，自己的财富让他变得一贫如洗。在钱财和物质财富积累方面没有规划，到最后还是自己的贪婪打倒了自己——即便是米达斯国王的欲望与其相比，也显得无足轻重。
当青春已逝，每个人都会怀着无尽的悲哀和遗憾回首那段生活，其原因也在于此。一个人自己荒废自己的伟大天赋；自己有成就一切事业的能力，却从未使用，知道了这一切，他就会感到更悲痛、更悔恨。
Man’s youth is a wonderful thing. It is so full of anguish and of magic and he never comes to know it as it is, until it has gone from him forever. It is the thing he cannot bear to lose, it is the thing whose passing he watches with infinite sorrow and regret, it is the thing whose loss he must lament forever, and it is the thing whose loss he really welcomes with a sad and secret joy, the thing he would never willingly relive again, could it be restored to him by any magic.
Why is this? The reason is that the strange and bitter miracle of life is nowhere else so evident as in our youth. And what is the essence of that strange and bitter miracle of life which we feel so poignantly, so unutterably, with such a bitter pain and joy, when we are young? It is this: that being rich, we are so poor; that being mighty, we can yet have nothing; that seeing, breathing, smelling, tasting all around us the impossible wealth and glory of this earth, feeling with an intolerable certitude that the whole structure of the enchanted life—the most fortunate, wealthy, good and happy life that any man has ever known—is ours—is ours at once, immediately and forever, the moment that we choose to take a step, or stretch a hand, or say a word—we yet know that we can really keep, hold, take, and possess forever—nothing. All passes; nothing lasts; the moment that we put our hand upon it, it melts away like smoke, is gone forever, and the snake is eating at our heart again; we see then what we are and what our lives must come to.
