The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event. You go to bed in one 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 woodcutter’s hut or a snug log-cabin. Outside， where the garden was yesterday， there is now a white and glistening level， and the village beyond is no longer your own familiar cluster of roofs but a village in an old German fairy-tale. You would not be surprised to learn that all the people there， the spectacled postmistress， the cobbler， the retired school master， and the rest， had suffered a change too and had become queer elvish beings， purveyors of invisible caps and magic shoes. You yourselves do not feel quite the same people you were yesterday. How could you when so much has been changed？ There is a curious stir， a little shiver of excitement， troubling the house， not unlike the feeling there is abroad when a journey has to be made. The children， of course， are all excitement but even the adults hang about and talk to one another longer than usual before settling down to the day’s work. Nobody can resist the windows. It is like being on board a ship.
When I got up this morning the world was a chilled hollow of dead white and faint blues. The light that came through the windows was very queer， and it contrived to make the familiar business of splashing and shaving and brushing and dressing very queer too. Then the sun came out， and by the time I had sat down to breakfast. It was shining bravely and flushing the snow with delicate pinks. The dining room window had been transformed into a lovely Japanese print. The little plum-tree outside， with the faintly flushed snow lining its boughs and artfully disposed along its trunk， stood in full sunlight. An hour or two later everything was a cold glitter of white and blue. The world had completely changed again. The little Japanese prints had all vanished. I looked out of my study window， over the garden， the meadow， to the low hills beyond， and the ground was one long glare， the sky was steely， and all the trees so many black and sinister shapes. There was indeed something curiously sinister about the whole prospect. It was as if our kindly countryside， close to the very heart of England， had been turned into a cruel steppe. At any moment， it seemed， a body of horsemen might be seen breaking out from the black copse， so many instruments of tyranny might be heard and some distant patch of snow be reddened. It was that kind of landscape.
Now it has changed again. The glare has gone and no touch of the sinister remains. But the snow is falling heavily， in great soft flakes， so that you can hardly see across the shallow valley， and the roofs are thick and the trees all bending， and the weathercock of the village church， still to be seen through the grey loaded air， has become some creature out of Hans Andersen. From my study， which is part from the house and faces it， I can see the children flattening their noses against the nursery window， and there is running through my head a jangle of rhyme I used to repeat when I was a child and flattened my nose against the cold window watching the falling snow：
Snow， snow faster：
White alabaster！
Killing geese in Scotland，
Sending feathers here！
真实的高贵
True Nobility
欧内斯特·海明威 / Ernest Hemingway
风平浪静的大海上，每个人都是领航员。
但是，只有阳光而无阴影，只有欢乐而无痛苦，那就不是人生。以最幸福的人的生活为例——它是一团纠缠在一起的麻线。丧亲之痛和幸福祝愿，彼此相接，使我们一会儿伤心一会儿高兴，甚至死亡本身也会使生命更加可亲。在人生的清醒时刻，在哀痛和伤心的阴影之下，人们与真实的自我最接近。
在人生或者职业的各种事务中，性格的作用比智力大得多，头脑的作用不如心情，天资不如由判断力所掌控的自制、耐心和纪律。
我始终相信，开始在内心生活得更严肃的人，也会在外表上开始生活得更朴素。在一个奢华浪费的年代，我希望能向世界表明，人类真正需要的东西是非常微小的。
悔恨自己的错误，而且力求不再重蹈覆辙，这才是真正的悔悟。优于别人，并不高贵，真正的高贵应该是优于过去的自己。
In a calm sea every man is a pilot.
But all sunshine without shade， all pleasure without pain， is not life at all. Take the lot of the happiest—it is a tangled yarn. Bereavements and blessings， one following another， make us sad and blessed by turns. Even death itself makes life more loving. Men come closest to their true selves in the sober moments of life， under the shadows of sorrow and loss.
In the affairs of life or of business， it is not intellect that tells so much as character， not brains so much as heart， not genius so much as self-control， patience， and discipline， regulated by judgment.
I have always believed that the man who has begun to live more seriously within begins to live more simply without. In an age of extravagance and waste， I wish I could show to the world how few the real wants of humanity are.
To regret one’s errors to the point of not repeating them is true repentance.
There is nothing noble in being superior to some other man. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self.
内卡河上木筏行
Rafting Down the Neckar
马克·吐温 / Mark Twain
When the landlord learned that I and my agents were artists， our party rose perceptibly in his esteem； we rose still higher when he learned that we were making a pedestrian tour of Europe.
He told us all about the Heidelberg road， and which were the best places to avoid and which the best ones to tarry at； he charged me less than cost for the things I broke in the night； he put up a fine luncheon for us and added to it a quantity of great light-green plums， the pleasantest fruit in Germany； he was so anxious to do us honor that he would not allow us to walk out of Heilbronn， but called up Gotz von Berlichingen" s horse and cab and made us ride.
