barbarous [b:brs] adj. 野蛮的；原始的；残暴的
If you describe something as barbarous, you strongly disapprove
of it because you think that it is rough and uncivilized.
如果你用“野蛮”来形容一件事物，就表示你对它极为不满，因为你认为它是
粗野的、不文明的。
cease [si:s] v. （使）停止；终止；结束
Cease to struggle you cease to leave.
生命不息，奋斗不止。
nourish [nri] v. 养育；培育；怀抱（希望、仇恨等）
They needed good food to nourish their bodies.
他们需要好食品滋养身体。
surmount [smant] v. 解决；处于（某物）上面
If you surmount a problem or difficulty, you deal successfully with it.
如果克服这个问题或困难，你就能够成功地解决它。
对于没有亲身经历过的事物，人们总是觉得讨厌，或者漠不关心，这是很自然的事。
我们的爱是博大无边的，并且不断得到只有我们自己才能领悟到的那种感情的滋养。
在那里，连风平浪静的时刻都充满危险。
To plunge myself into a worse fate?
plunge... into：投入；跳入；陷入……之中；进入
And that ambition disregards wrong so long as it succeeds in its aim...
so long as ：只要；如果；既然；由于
尤金·奥尼尔致儿子
Eugene O'Neill to His Son
尤金·奥尼尔（1888—1953），美国剧作家。他生于纽约一个演员家庭，幼年随父亲的剧团走南闯北，漂泊不定。1936年，由于“他那体现了传统悲剧概念的剧作所具有的魅力以及真挚和深沉的激情”，奥尼尔获得诺贝尔文学奖。此外，奥尼尔生前曾三次获得普利策奖。他自认为并得到公认的最好作品是《长夜漫漫路迢迢》。这部带有自传性的剧作，按作家生前的声明，于1956年首次在瑞典上演，并再次获普利策奖。
Dear Eugene,
It was good to get your letter. I would have written you, only you said in your wire you were writing, so I waited to learn all the details of your good news. And it sure is good news! But, as I wired you, I was by no means astonished, or anything like that, that you had done so nobly, for your somber premonitions had not impressed me as being liable to coincide with the facts when they appeared. I know such dreary forebodings too damned well. They are the familiar spirits of this branch of the O'Neills—one of the baneful heritages you get from me, I'm afraid. I've been enjoying more than my usual share of them lately, too, what with this Cycle of plays stretching out into a future of seemingly endless hard labor. It looks now as if there would have to be still another play—a ninth which will carry me back to 1770 as a starter.
What you write about the exams is damned interesting and I am glad you told me so much about the oral. Of course, I knew there was one, but had no idea it was such a formidable inquisition. I can imagine how you felt when you paced the hall waiting for the verdict!
As for the job, from what you tell me, that assuredly is a grand bit of good fortune! And the salary is more than I ever thought you would get to start with.
Speaking of money, you know, I hope, that if ever you get in a tough spot I can always manage to come across with something, although, as you may guess, the next couple of years will be lean ones unless that rarity for me, a Movie-rights purchase, comes up. I want to tell you frankly what my exact situation is. Whatever income I have from investments is more than abolished by the alimony dole. That means that as far as my half of Carlotta's and my household expenses, etc. is concerned I am living on capital and will be for the next two years or more, for I do not expect to be able to release any new play for production or publication before then. Royalties on books bring in something but comparatively little. Stock, amateur performances' royalties don't amount to much because my plays are difficult to cast and seldom attempted. Foreign productions continue to be flatteringly constant—but are done in repertoire for a few performances at a time, and with half to a translator, tax, etc. the return to me in dollars is negligible, or less. I had hoped something from the London production of Ah, Wilderness! By the Irish Group Theatre, but in spite of a unanimously enthusiastic critical reception, no one is going to see it and it has possibly closed by this.
So that's about the situation—and it is due to grow steadily worse instead of better, pending the appearance of my new work. I tell you all this not to cry poor, you understand, but to present the hard facts.
I am determined, if I go broke in the process, not to release any play of the Cycle until I have at least three or four in final form, and more in first draft. This is essential to me because the emphasis with me is naturally on the work as a whole, not on its separate parts. It is also essential for the stage production of the work as a whole that the Guild have several plays to plan on as a starter—for they intend to get together a special repertoire company just to do this Cycle, and when it comes to tying up actors and actresses for three or four years, in these days of Talkie temptation, you've got to show them parts in several plays that make it to their advantage to sign up. You can't do it on one or two plays with a vague promise of good parts in plays not yet written, no matter who the author. The plan, as I guess I've told you before, is to do two plays a season.
So you see how this Cycle has me involved in a hell of a lot of labor—and costly time—before I can expect any returns of any kind. You will also appreciate that I have many low days of O'Neill heebie-jeebies when I feel very old and tired, and doubt myself and my work, and wonder why in hell something in me drove me on to undertake such a hellish job when I might have coasted along and just written some more plays, as a well behaved playwright does.
But enough of that.
I foresaw that you would probably get some tart retorts from the Middle-West on your article. Mid-Westerners are very sensitive people—that is, in one respect.
Love to you and Betty from us—and a sweet kiss from Blemie to Cabot.
Father
June 20th 1936
亲爱的尤金：
很高兴收到你的信。我本来已经在给你写信了，不过你在电话中说你正写信给我，于是我就等着详细地了解你的好消息。这确实是好消息！当我从电话中得知你干得如此出色时，我没有感到意外，一点也没有，因为我觉得你先前种种不祥的预兆根本不可能会在后来应验。我对那些可恶的预兆非常明了，那是我们这些奥尼尔家族成员的共同特征——恐怕这是你从我这里继承的有害遗传因子。我近来也一直遇到这种情况，而且比以前还要糟。因为，这个系列剧拉得太长，似乎这烦人的工作永远也做不完。现在看起来好像还得接下去写另外的一个剧本——第九个剧本，这将把我带回1770年刚开始创作剧本的阶段。
你在信里所说的关于考试的情形非常有趣，我很高兴你如此详尽地谈了口试的情况。我知道有口试这回事，但并没想到口试竟是那样一种可怕的询问，我可以想象当时你在大厅中走来走去，等待最后结果时焦急的心情。
