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沙与沫1

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SAND AND FOAM

by Kahlil Gibran

I am forever walking upon these shores,

Betwixt the sand and the foam,

The high tide will erase my foot-prints,

And the wind will blow away the foam.

But the sea and the shore will remain

Forever.

Once I filled my hand with mist.

Then I opened it and lo, the mist was a worm.

And I closed and opened my hand again, and behold there was a bird.

And again I closed and opened my hand, and in its hollow stood a man with a sad face, turned upward.

And again I closed my hand, and when I opened it there was naught but mist.

But I heard a song of exceeding sweetness.

It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering without rhythm in the sphere of life.

Now I know that I am the sphere, and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.

They say to me in their awakening, "You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."

And in my dream I say to them, "I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."

Only once have I been made mute. It was when a man asked me, "Who are you?"

The first thought of God was an angel.

The first word of God was a man.

We were fluttering, wandering, longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words.

Now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our yesterdays?

The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said, "A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again."

I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand.

Long did I lie in the dust of Egypt, silent and unaware of the seasons.

Then the sun gave me birth, and I rose and walked upon the banks of the Nile,

Singing with the days and dreaming with the nights.

And now the sun threads upon me with a thousand feet that I may lie again in the dust of Egypt.

But behold a marvel and a riddle!

The very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me.

Still erect am I, and sure of foot do I walk upon the banks of the Nile.

Remembrance is a form of meeting.

Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.

We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets.

Now tell me, how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time?

Space is not space between the earth and the sun to one who looks down from the windows of the Milky Way.

Humanity is a river of light running from the ex-eternity to eternity.

Do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain?

On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, "Is this indeed the way to the Holy City?"

And he said, "Follow me, and you will reach the Holy City in a day and a night."

And I followed him. And we walked many days and many nights, yet we did not reach the Holy City.

And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me.

Make me, oh God, the prey of the lion, ere You make the rabbit my prey.

One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.

My house says to me, "Do not leave me, for here dwells your past."

And the road says to me, "Come and follow me, for I am your future."

And I say to both my house and the road, "I have no past, nor have I a future. If I stay here, there is a going in my staying; and if I go there is a staying in my going. Only love and death will change all things."

How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth? Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain.

Seven times have I despised my soul:

The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain height.

The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled.

The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy, and she chose the easy.

The fourth time when she committed a wrong, and comforted herself that others also commit wrong.

The fifth time when she forbore for weakness, and attributed her patience to strength.

The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.

And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue.

I am ignorant of absolute truth. But I am humble before my ignorance and therein lies my honour and my reward.

There is a space between man's imagination and man's attainment that may only be traversed by his longing.

Paradise is there, behind that door, in the next room; but I have lost the key.

Perhaps I have only mislaid it.

You are blind and I am deaf and dumb, so let us touch hands and understand.

The significance of man is not in what he attains, but rather in what he longs to attain.

Some of us are like ink and some like paper.

And if it were not for the blackness of some of us, some of us would be dumb;

And if it were not for the whiteness of some of us, some of us would be blind.

Give me an ear and I will give you a voice.

Our mind is a sponge; our heart is a stream.

Is it not strange that most of us choose sucking rather than running?

When you long for blessings that you may not name, and when you grieve knowing not the cause, then indeed you are growing with all things that grow, and rising toward your greater self.

When one is drunk with a vision, he deems his faint expression of it the very wine.

You drink wine that you may be intoxicated; and I drink that it may sober me from that other wine.

When my cup is empty I resign myself to its emptiness; but when it is half full I resent its half-fullness.

The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you, but in what he cannot reveal to you.

Therefore, if you would understand him, listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say.

Half of what I say is meaningless; but I say it so that the other half may reach you.

A sense of humour is a sense of proportion.

My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues.

When Life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.

A truth is to be known always, to be uttered sometimes.

The real in us is silent; the acquired is talkative.

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.

When two women talk they say nothing; when one woman speaks she reveals all of life.

Frogs may bellow louder than bulls, but they cannot drag the plough in the field not turn the wheel of the winepress, and of their skins you cannot make shoes.

Only the dumb envy the talkative.

If winter should say, "Spring is in my heart," who would believe winter?

Every seed is a longing.

Should you really open your eyes and see, you would behold your image in all images.

And should you open your ears and listen, you would hear your own voice in all voices.

It takes two of us to discover truth: one to utter it and one to understand it.

Though the wave of words is forever upon us, yet our depth is forever silent.

Many a doctrine is like a window pane. We see truth through it but it divides us from truth.

Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you. A woman may veil her face with a smile.

How noble is the sad heart who would sing a joyous song with joyous hearts.

He who would understand a woman, or dissect genius, or solve the mystery of silence is the very man who would wake from a beautiful dream to sit at a breakfast table.

I would walk with all those who walk. I would not stand still to watch the procession passing by.

You owe more than gold to him who serves you. Give him of your heart or serve him.

Nay, we have not lived in vain. Have they not built towers of our bones?

Let us not be particular and sectional. The poet's mind and the scorpion's tail rise in glory from the same earth.

Every dragon gives birth to a St. George who slays it.

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky. We fell them down and turn them into paper that we may record our emptiness.

Should you care to write (and only the saints know why you should) you must needs have knowledge and art and music -- the knowledge of the music of words, the art of being artless, and the magic of loving your readers.

They dip their pens in our hearts and think they are inspired.

Should a tree write its autobiography it would not be unlike the history of a race.

If I were to choose between the power of writing a poem and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten, I would choose the ecstasy. It is better poetry.

But you and all my neighbours agree that I always choose badly.

Poetry is not an opinion expressed. It is a song that rises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth.

Words are timeless. You should utter them or write them with a knowledge of their timelessness.

A poet is a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace trying to fashion an image out of the ashes.

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.

In vain shall a poet seek the mother of the songs of his heart.

Once I said to a poet, "We shall not know your worth until you die."

And he answered saying, "Yes, death is always the revealer. And if indeed you would know my worth it is that I have more in my heart than upon my tongue, and more in my desire than in my hand."

If you sing of beauty though alone in the heart of the desert you will have an audience.

Poetry is wisdom that enchants the heart.

Wisdom is poetry that sings in the mind.

If we could enchant man's heart and at the same time sing in his mind,

Then in truth he would live in the shadow of God.

Inspiration will always sing; inspiration will never explain.

We often sing lullabies to our children that we ourselves may sleep.

All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.

Thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry.

A great singer is he who sings our silences.

How can you sing if your mouth be filled with food?

How shall your hand be raised in blessing if it is filled with gold?

They say the nightingale pierces his bosom with a thorn when he sings his love song.

So do we all. How else should we sing?

Genius is but a robin's song at the beginning of a slow spring.

Even the most winged spirit cannot escape physical necessity.

A madman is not less a musician than you or myself; only the instrument on which he plays is a little out of tune.

The song that lies silent in the heart of a mother sings upon the lips of her child.

No longing remains unfulfilled.

I have never agreed with my other self wholly. The truth of the matter seems to lie between us.

Your other self is always sorry for you. But your other self grows on sorrow; so all is well.

There is no struggle of soul and body save in the minds of those whose souls are asleep and whose bodies are out of tune.

When you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things, even in the eyes that are blind to beauty.

We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.

Sow a seed and the earth will yield you a flower. Dream your dream to the sky and it will bring you your beloved.

The devil died the very day you were born.

Now you do not have to go through hell to meet an angel.

Many a woman borrows a man's heart; very few could possess it.

If you would possess you must not claim.

When a man's hand touches the hand of a woman they both touch the heart of eternity.

Love is the veil between lover and lover.

Every man loves two women; the one is the creation of his imagination, and the other is not yet born.

Men who do not forgive women their little faults will never enjoy their great virtues.

Love that does not renew itself every day becomes a habit and in turn a slavery.

Lovers embrace that which is between them rather than each other.

Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms.

Love is a word of light, written by a hand of light, upon a page of light.

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.

If you do not understand your friend under all conditions you will never understand him.

Your most radiant garment is of the other person's weaving;

You most savoury meal is that which you eat at the other person's table;

Your most comfortable bed is in the other person's house.

Now tell me, how can you separate yourself from the other person?

Your mind and my heart will never agree until your mind ceases to live in numbers and my heart in the mist.

We shall never understand one another until we reduce the language to seven words.

How shall my heart be unsealed unless it be broken?

Only great sorrow or great joy can reveal your truth.

If you would be revealed you must either dance naked in the sun, or carry your cross.

Should nature heed what we say of contentment no river would seek the sea, and no winter would turn to Spring. Should she heed all we say of thrift, how many of us would be breathing this air?

You see but your shadow when you turn your back to the sun.

You are free before the sun of the day, and free before the stars of the night;

And you are free when there is no sun and no moon and no star.

You are even free when you close your eyes upon all there is.

But you are a slave to him whom you love because you love him,

And a slave to him who loves you because he loves you.

We are all beggars at the gate of the temple, and each one of us receives his share of the bounty of the King when he enters the temple, and when he goes out.

But we are all jealous of one another, which is another way of belittling the King.

You cannot consume beyond your appetite. The other half of the loaf belongs to the other person, and there should remain a little bread for the chance guest.

If it were not for your guests all houses would be graves.

Said a gracious wolf to a simple sheep, "Will you not honour our house with a visit?"

And the sheep answered, "We would have been honoured to visit your house if it were not in your stomach."

I stopped my guest on the threshold and said, "Nay, wipe not your feet as you enter, but as you go out."

Generosity is not in giving me that which I need more than you do, but it is in giving me that which you need more than I do.

You are indeed charitable when you give, and while giving, turn your face away so that you may not see the shyness of the receiver.

The difference between the richest man and the poorest is but a day of hunger and an hour of thirst.

We often borrow from our tomorrows to pay our debts to our yesterdays.

I too am visited by angels and devils, but I get rid of them.

When it is an angel I pray an old prayer, and he is bored;

When it is a devil I commit an old sin, and he passes me by.

After all this is not a bad prison; but I do not like this wall between my cell and the next prisoner's cell;

Yet I assure you that I do not wish to reproach the warder not the Builder of the prison.

Those who give you a serpent when you ask for a fish, may have nothing but serpents to give. It is then generosity on their part.

Trickery succeeds sometimes, but it always commits suicide.

You are truly a forgiver when you forgive murderers who never spill blood, thieves who never steal, and liars who utter no falsehood.

He who can put his finger upon that which divides good from evil is he who can touch the very hem of the garment of God.

If your heart is a volcano how shall you expect flowers to bloom in your hands?



沙与沫(1926)

冰心 译



我永远在沙岸上行走,

在沙土和泡沫的中间。

高潮会抹去我的脚印,

风也会把泡沫吹走。

但是海洋和沙岸

却将永远存在。



我曾抓起一把烟雾。

然后我伸掌一看,哎哟,烟雾变成一个虫子。

我把手握起再伸开一看,手里却是一只鸟。

我再把手握起又伸开,在掌心里站着一个容颜忧郁,向天仰首的人。

我又把手握起,当我伸掌的时候,除了烟雾以外,一无所有。

但是我听到了一支绝顶甜柔的歌曲。



仅仅在昨天,我认为我自己只是一个碎片,无韵律地在生命的穹苍中颤抖。

现在我晓得,我就是那穹苍,一切生命都是在我里面有韵律地转动的碎片。

他们在觉醒的时候对我说:"你和你所居住的世界,只不过是无边海洋的无边沙岸上的一粒沙子。"

在梦里我对他们说:"我就是那无边的海洋,大千世界只不过是我的沙岸上的沙粒。"



只有一次把我窘得哑口无言,就是当一个人问我"你是谁?"的时候。



想到神的第一个念头是一个天使。

说到神的第一个字眼是一个人。



我们是有海洋以前千万年的扑腾着、飘游着、追求着的生物,森林里的风把语言给予了我们。

那么我们怎能以昨天的声音来表现我们心中的远古年代呢?



斯芬克斯只说过一次话。斯芬克斯说:"一粒沙子就是一片沙漠,一片沙漠就是一粒沙子;现在再让我们沉默下去吧。"

我听到了斯芬克斯的话,但是我不懂得。



我看到过一个女人的脸,我就看到了她所有的还未生出的儿女。

一个女人看了我的脸,她就认得了在她生前已经死去的我的历代祖宗。



我想使自己完满起来。但是除非我能变成一个上面住着理智的生物的星球,此外还有什么可能呢?

这不是每一个人的目标吗?



一粒珍珠是痛苦围绕着一粒沙子所建造起来的庙宇。

是什么愿望围绕着什么样的沙粒,建造起我们的躯体呢?



当神把我这块石子丢在奇妙的湖里的时候,我以无数的圈纹扰乱了它的表面。

但是当我落到深处的时候,我就变得十分安静了。



给我静默,我将向黑夜挑战。



当我的灵魂和肉体由相爱而结婚的时候,我就得到了重生。



从前我认识一个听觉极其锐敏的人,但是他不能说话。在一个战役中他丧失了舌头。

现在我知道在这伟大的沉默来到以前,这个人打过的是什么样的仗。我为他的死亡而高兴。

这世界为我们两个人是不够大的。



我在埃及的沙土上躺了很久,沉默着而且忘却了季节。

然后太阳把生命给了我,我起来在尼罗河岸上行走。

和白天一同唱歌,和黑夜一同做梦。

现在太阳又用一千只脚在我身上践踏,让我再在埃及的沙土上躺下。

但是,请看一个奇迹和一个谜吧!

那个把我集聚起来的太阳,不能把我打散。

我依旧挺立着,我以稳健的步履在尼罗河岸上行走。

记忆是相会的一种形式。

忘记是自由的一种形式。



我们依据无数太阳的运转来测定时间;

他们以他们口袋里的小小的机器来测定时间。

那么请告诉我,我们怎能在同一的地点和同一的时间相会呢?



对于从银河的窗户里下望的人,空间就不是地球与太阳之间的空间了。



人性是一条光河,从永久以前流向永久。



难道在以太里居住的精灵,不妒羡世人的痛苦吗?



在到圣城去的路上,我遇到另一位香客,我问他:"这条就是到圣城去的路吗?"

他说:"跟我来吧,再有一天一夜就到达圣城了。"

我就跟随他。我们走了几天几夜,还没有走到圣城。

使我惊讶的是,他带错了路反而对我大发脾气。



神呵,让我做狮子的俘食,要不就让兔子做我的俘食吧。



除了通过黑夜的道路,人们不能到达黎明。



我的房子对我说:"不要离开我,因为你的过去住在这里。"

道路对我说,"跟我来吧,因为我是你的将来。"

我对我的房子和道路说,"我没有过去,也没有将来。如果我住下来,我的住中就有去;如果我去,我的去中就有住。只有爱和死才能改变一切。"



当那些睡在绒毛上面的人所做的梦,并不比睡在土地上的人的梦更美好的时候,我怎能对生命的公平失掉信心呢?



奇怪得很,对某些娱乐的愿望,也是我的痛苦的一部分。



曾有七次我鄙视了自己的灵魂:

第一次是在她可以上升而却谦让的时候。

第二次是我看见她在瘸者面前跛行的时候。

第三次是让她选择难易,而她选了易的时候。

第四次是她做错了事,却安慰自己说别人也同样做错了事。

第五次是她容忍了软弱,而把她的忍受称为坚强。

第六次是当她轻蔑一个丑恶的容颜的时候,却不知道那是她自己的面具中之一。

第七次是当她唱一首颂歌的时候,自己相信这是一种美德。



我不知道什么是绝对的真理。但是我对于我的无知是谦虚的,这其中就有了我的荣誉和报酬。



在人的幻想和成就中间有一段空间,只能靠他的热望来通过。



天堂就在那边,在那扇门后,在隔壁的房里;但是我把钥匙丢了。



也许我只是把它放错了地方。



你瞎了眼睛,我是又聋又哑,因此让我们握起手来互相了解吧。



一个人的意义不在于他的成就,而在于他所企求成就的东西。



我们中间,有些人像墨水,有些人像纸张。

若不是因为有些人是黑的话,有些人就成了哑吧。

若不是因为有些人是白的话,有些人就成了瞎子。



给我一只耳朵,我将给你以声音。



我们的心才是一块海绵;我们的心怀是一道河水。

然而我们大多宁愿吸收而不肯奔流,这不是很奇怪吗?



当你想望着无名的恩赐,怀抱着无端的烦恼的时候,你就真和一切生物一同长大,升向你的大我。



当一个人沉醉在一个幻象之中,他就会把这幻象的模糊的情味当作真实的酒。



你喝酒为的是求醉;我喝酒为的是要从别种的醉酒中清醒过来。



当我的酒杯空了的时候,我就让它空着;但当它半满的时候,我却恨它半满。



一个人的实质,不在于他向你显露的那一面,而在于他所不能向你显露的那一面。



因此,如果你想了解他,不要去听他说出的话,而要去听他的没有说出的话。



我说的话有一半是没有意义的;我把它说出来,为的是也许会让你听到其他的一半。



幽默感就是分寸感。



当人们夸奖我多言的过失,责备我沉默的美德的时候,我的寂寞就产生了。



当生命找不到一个歌唱家来唱出她的心情的时候,她就产生一个哲学家来说出她的心思。



真理是常久被人知道的,有时被人说出的。



我们的真实的我是沉默的;后天的我是多嘴的。



我的生命内的声音达不到你的生命内的耳朵;但是为了避免寂寞,就让我们交谈吧。



当两个女人交谈的时候,她们什么话也没有说;当一个女人自语的时候,她揭露了生命的一切。

青蛙也许会叫得比牛更响,但是它们不能在田里拉犁,也不会在酒坊里牵磨,它们的皮也做不出鞋来。



只有哑巴才妒忌多嘴的人。



如果冬天说,"春天在我的心里",谁会相信冬天呢?



每一粒种子都是一个愿望。



如果你真的睁起眼睛来看,你会从每一个形象中看到你自己的形象。



如果你张开耳朵来听,你会在一切声音里听到你自己的声音。



真理是需要我们两个人来发现的:一个人来讲说它,一个人来了解它。



虽然言语的波浪永远在我们上面喧哗,而我们的深处却永远是沉默的。



许多理论都像一扇窗户,我们通过它看到真理,但是它也把我们同真理隔开。



让我们玩捉迷藏吧。你如果藏在我的心里,就不难把你找到。但是如果你藏到你的壳里去,那么任何人也找你不到的。



一个女人可以用微笑把她的脸蒙了起来。



那颗能够和欢乐的心一同唱出欢歌的忧愁的心,是多么高贵呵。



想了解女人,或分析天才,或想解答沉默的神秘的人,就是那个想从一个美梦中挣扎醒来坐到早餐桌上的人。



我愿意同走路的人一同行走。我不愿站住看着队伍走过。



对于服侍你的人,你欠他的还不只是金子。把你的心交给他或是服侍他吧。



没有,我们没有白活。他们不是把我们的骨头堆成堡垒了吗?



我们不要挑剔计较吧。诗人的心思和蝎子的尾巴,都是从同一块土地上光荣地升起的。



每一条毒龙都产生出一个屠龙的圣乔治来。



树木是大地写上天空中的诗。我们把它们砍下造纸,让我们可以把我们的空洞记录下来。



如果你要写作(只有圣人才晓得你为什么要写作),你必须有知识、艺术和魔术——字句的音乐的知识,不矫揉造作的艺术,和热爱你读者的魔术。



他们把笔蘸在我们的心怀里,就认为他们已经得了灵感了。

如果一棵树也写自传的话,它不会不像一个民族的历史。



如果我在"写诗的能力"和"未写成诗的欢乐"之间选择的话,我就要选那欢乐。因为欢乐是更好的诗。

但是你和我所有的邻居,都一致地说我总是不会选择。



诗不是一种表白出来的意见。它是从一个伤口或是一个笑口涌出的一首歌曲。



言语是没有时间性的。在你说它或是写它的时候应该懂得它的特点。



诗人是一个退位的君王,坐在他的宫殿的灰烬里,想用残灰捏出一个形象。



诗是欢乐、痛苦和惊奇穿插着词汇的一场交道。



一个诗人要想寻找他心里诗歌的母亲的话,是徒劳无功的。



我曾对一个诗人说,"不到你死后我们不会知道你的评价。"

他回答说,"是的,死亡永远是个揭露者。如果你真想知道我的评价,那就是我心里的比舌上的多,我所愿望的比手里现有的多。"



如果你歌颂美,即使你是在沙漠的中心,你也会有听众。



诗是迷醉心怀的智慧。

智慧是心思里歌唱的诗。

如果我们能够迷醉人的心怀,同时也在他的心思中歌唱,

那么他就真个地在神的影中生活了。



灵感总是歌唱;灵感从不解释。



我们常为使自己入睡而对我们的孩子唱催眠的歌曲。



我们的一切字句,都是从心思的筵席上散落下来的残屑。



思想对于诗往往是一块绊脚石。



能唱出我们的沉默的,是一个伟大的歌唱家。



如果你嘴里含满了食物,你怎能歌唱呢?

如果你手里握满金钱,你怎能举起祝福之手呢?



他们说夜莺唱着恋歌的时候,把刺扎进自己的心膛。

我们也都是这样的。不这样我们还能歌唱吗?



天才只不过是晚春开始时节知更鸟所唱的一首歌。



连那最高超的心灵,也逃不出物质的需要。



疯人作为一个音乐家并不比你我逊色,不过他所弹奏的乐器有点失调而已。



在母亲心里沉默着的诗歌,在她孩子的唇上唱了出来。

没有不能圆满的愿望。



我和另外一个我,从来没有完全一致过。事物的实质似乎横梗在我们中间。



你的另外一个你总是为你难过。但是你的另外一个你就在难过中成长;那么就一切都好了。



除了在那些灵魂熟睡、躯壳失调的人的心里之外,灵魂和躯壳之间是没有斗争的。



当你达到生命的中心的时候,你将在万物中甚至于在看不见美的人的眼睛里,也会找到美。



我们活着只为的是去发现美。其他一切都是等待的种种形式。



撒下一粒种子,大地会给你一朵花。向天祝愿一个梦想,天空会给你一个情人。



你生下来的那一天,魔鬼就死去了。你不必经过地狱去会见天使。



许多女子借到了男子的心;很少女子能占有它。



如果你想占有,你千万不可要求。

当一个男子的手接触到一个女子的手,他俩都接触到了永在的心。



爱情是情人之间的面幕。



每一个男子都爱着两个女人:一个是他想象的作品,另外一个还没有生下来。



不肯原谅女人的细微过失的男子,永远不会欣赏她们伟大的德性。



不日日自新的爱情,变成一种习惯,而终于变成奴役。



情人只拥抱了他们之间的一种东西,而没有互相拥抱。



恋爱和疑忌是永不交谈的。



爱情是一个光明的字,被一只光明的手写在一张光明的册页上的。



友谊永远是一个甜柔的责任,从来不是一种机会。



如果你不在所有的情况下了解你的朋友,你就永远不会了解他。



你的最华丽的衣袍是别人织造的;

你的最可口的一餐是在别人的桌上吃的;

你的最舒适的床铺是在别人的房子里的。

那么请告诉我,你怎能把自己同别人分开呢?



你的心思和我的心怀将永远不会一致,除非你的心思不再居留于数字中,而我的心怀不再居留在云雾里。



除非我们把语言减少到七个字,我们将永不会互相了解。



我的心,除了把它敲碎以外,怎能把它打开呢?



只有深哀和极乐才能显露你的真实。

如果你愿意被显露出来,你必须在阳光中裸舞,或是背起你的十字架。



如果自然听到了我们所说的知足的话语,江河就不去寻求大海,冬天就不会变成春天。如果她听到我们所说的一切吝啬的话语,我们有多少人可以呼吸到空气呢?



当你背向太阳的时候,你只看到自己的影子。



你在白天的太阳前面是自由的,在黑夜的星辰前面也是自由的;

在没有太阳,没有月亮,没有星辰的时候,你也是自由的。

但是你是你所爱的人的奴隶,因为你爱了他。

你也是爱你的人的奴隶,因为他爱了你。



我们都是庙门前的乞丐,当国王进出庙门的时候,我们每人都分受到恩赏。

但是我们都互相妒忌,这是轻视国王的另一种方式。



你不能吃得多过你的食欲。那一半食粮是属于别人的,而且也还要为不速之客留下一点面包。



如果不为待客的话,所有的房屋都成了坟墓。



和善的狼对天真的羊说:"你不光临寒舍吗?"

羊回答说:"我们将以造府为荣,如果贵府不是在你肚子里的话。"



我把客人拦在门口说:"不必了,在出门的时候再擦脚吧,进门的时候是不必擦的。"



慷慨不是你把我比你更需要的东西给我,而是你把你比我更需要的东西也给了我。



当你施与的时候你当然是慈善的,在授与的时候要把脸转过一边,这样就可以不看那受者的羞赧。



最富与最穷的人的差别,只在于一整天的饥饿和一个钟头的干渴。



我们常常从我们的明天预支了来偿付我们昨天的债负。



我也曾受过天使和魔鬼的造访,但是我都把他们支走了。

当天使来的时候,我念一段旧的祷文,他就厌烦了;

当魔鬼来的时候,我犯一次旧的罪过,他就从我面前走过了。



总的说来,这不是一所坏监狱;我只不喜欢在我的囚房和隔壁囚房之间的这堵墙;但是我对你保证,我决不愿责备狱吏和建造这监狱的人。



你向他们求鱼而却给你毒蛇的那些人,也许他们只有毒蛇可给。那么在他们一方面就算是慷慨的了。



欺骗有时成功,但它往往自杀。



当你饶恕那些从不流血的凶手,从不窃盗的小偷,不打诳语的说谎者的时候,你就真是一个宽大的人。



谁能把手指放在善恶分野的地方,谁就是能够摸到上帝圣袍的边缘的人。



如果你的心是一座火山的话,你怎能指望会从你的手里开出花朵来呢?



多么奇怪的一个自欺的方式!有时我宁愿受到损害和欺骗,好让我嘲笑那些以为我不知道我是被损害、欺骗了的人。



对于一个扮作被追求者的角色的追求者,我该怎么说他呢?



让那个把脏手在你衣服上擦的人,把你的衣服拿走吧。他也许还需要那件衣服,你却一定不会再要了。



兑换商不能做一个好园丁,真是可惜。



请你不要以后天的德行来粉饰你的先天的缺陷。我宁愿有缺陷,这些缺陷和我自己的一样。



有多少次我把没有犯过的罪都拉到自己身上,为的让人家在我面前感到舒服。



就是生命的面具,也都是更深的奥秘的面具。



你可能只根据自己的了解去判断别人。

现在告诉我,我们里头谁是有罪的,谁是无辜的。



真正公平的人就是对你的罪过感到应该分担的人。



只有白痴和天才,才会去破坏人造的法律,他们离上帝的心最近。



只在你被追逐的时候,你才快跑。



我没有仇人,上帝呵!如果我会有仇人的话,

就让他和我势均力敌,

只让真理做一个战胜者。



当你和敌人都死了的时候,你就会和他十分友好了。



一个人在自卫的时候可能自杀。



很久以前一个"人",因为过于爱别人,也因太可爱了,而被钉在十字架上。



说来奇怪,昨天我碰到他三次。



第一次是他恳求一个警察不要把一个妓女关到监牢里去;第二次是他和一个无赖一块喝酒;第三次是他在教堂里和一个法官拳斗。



如果他们所谈的善恶都是正确的话,那么我的一生只是一个长时间的犯罪。



怜悯只是半个公平。



过去唯一对我不公平的人,就是那个我曾对我的兄弟不公平的人。



当你看见一个人被带进监狱的时候,在你心中默默地说:"也许他是从更狭小的监狱里逃出来的。"

当你看见一个人喝醉了的时候,在你心中默默地说:"也许他想躲避某些更不美好的事物。"



在自卫中我常常憎恨;但是如果我是一个比较坚强的人,我就不必使用这样的武器。



把唇上的微笑来遮掩眼里的憎恨的人,是多么愚蠢呵!



只有在我以下的人,能忌妒我或憎恨我。

我从来没有被忌妒或被憎恨过,我不在任何人之上。

只有在我以上的人,能称赞我或轻蔑我。

我从来没有被称赞或被轻蔑过;我不在任何人之下。



你对我说"我不了解你",这就是过分地赞扬了我,无故地侮辱了你。



当生命给我金子而我给你银子的时候,我还自以为慷慨,这是多么卑鄙呵!



当你达到生命心中的时候,你会发现你不高过罪人,也不低于先知。



奇怪的是,你竟可怜那脚下慢的人,而不可怜那心里慢的人。

可怜那盲于目的人,而不可怜那盲于心的人。



瘸子不在他敌人的头上敲断他的拐杖,是更聪明些的。



那个认为从他的口袋里给你,可以从你心里取回的人,是多么糊涂呵!



生命是一支队伍。迟慢的人发现队伍走得太快了,他就走出队伍;

快步的人又发现队伍走得太慢了,他也走出队伍。

如果世上真有罪孽这件东西的话,我们中间有的人是跟着我们祖先的脚踪,倒退着造孽。

有的人是管制着我们的儿女,赶前地造孽。



真正的好人,是那个和所有大家认为坏的人在一起的人。



我们都是囚犯,不过有的是关在有窗的牢房里,有的就关在无窗的牢房里。



奇怪的是,当我们为错误辩护的时候,我们用的气力比我们捍卫正确时还大。



如果我们互相供认彼此的罪过的话,我们就会为大家并无新创而互相嘲笑。



如果我们都公开了我们的美德的话,我们也将为大家并无新创而大笑。
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