Jennifer Lin’s Weblog

November 15, 2009

合理安排任务,有效利用时间

Filed under: English — jennyca @ 10:38 pm

生活中常常遇到这样的情况,事情一下子冲击过来,压力倍增,这时恨不得能有分身术。那到底该怎样安排任务充分利用时间呢?Take on Tasks One at a Time
一次一个任务
We think we are reducing stress by accomplishing more than one thing at a time, when in fact, we are causing ourselves more stress than ever. Stress-busting tip: leave multitasking to your personal computer. Do one thing at a time, do it well, and move on to the next item on your list. That’s the best way to regain a sense of control over time.

我们自认为同时做几件事可以减轻压力,但事实上,我们是给自己增加更多压力。减压秘诀:在多项任务在你的电脑上列出。每次只做一件事并且把它做好,然后再去做清单上的下一件事。这时你会感觉到自己又能重新掌控时间了。

Make an Effort to Do Less
努力少做些事
Think for a moment about where in your life you are spending valuable time on something that you could possibly live without. Think about getting away from the TV and computer screens that are mental vampires, sucking the life out of us by stealing our time and attention. By doing less and by carefully choosing which activities give you the least amount of benefit for the time commitment they require, you’ll actually end up creating more time in your day.
仔细想一下:你的一生中把多少宝贵的时间花在那些就算没有你也能活下去的事 情上。不妨考虑一下远离诸如电视和电脑等等。它们是精神吸血鬼,偷取了我们的时间和精力,吸干了我们的生命。少做些这样的事,权衡下再选择那些能使你在一 定的时间内获益最多的活动,那么你就在一天中创造更多的时间了。

Scale Down Your Priorities
按优先级逐级做事
Make a list of four things that you would like to accomplish today. Keep the list with you and stay with each item until you have completed it. Then go to the next item on your list and repeat the process. Keep doing this until you’ve gotten to the end of your list. Most of us place overwhelming demands on ourselves, or we expect far too little of ourselves. The goal is to hit the “sweet spot,” where our expectations of what we can accomplish in any given 24-hour period are in line with reality. If you’re afraid that you won’t accomplish all four things, well, that’s why they invented tomorrow!
列一个清单,上面包括你今天要完成的四件事。把这份清单 带在身上,每完成一个项目,就划掉。然后继续清单上的下一个项目并重复以上过程。持续这样直到你把清单上的所有项目都完成。我们大多数人都对自己要求太 多,或者对自己期望太低。我们的目标就是达到“甜蜜点”:现实中我们做到了期望中的在24小时内完成的事。如果你害怕自己完成不了所有的事的话,这就是明 天之所以存在的原因了。

Clear Out the Clutter
清除杂物
When our homes, our workplaces, and our vehicles have a sense of orderliness to them, we actually feel more peaceful and less stressed out. We’ve all gone through the agony of trying to rush out the door when we can’t find our car keys, wallet, or purse! Keeping your personal space clutter-free makes it easier to manage your time when you’re in a hurry.
当我们的家庭,工作环境和汽车都整齐有序时,我们会感到更平和,压力也会更小点。我们都经历过找不到汽车钥匙,皮夹或钱包时想奔出门的痛苦。把个人空间弄得整齐一点,这可以让你在忙乱之中更好地掌握自己的时间。

Replenish Your Body with Rest
注意休息
Most of us constantly have our fingers on the fast-forward button, when we really need to hit the pause button for a while. Every time we add another activity or responsibility to our lives, we generally take the time for that activity out of our sleep. We can only carry on not sleeping enough for a while before it catches up with us, causing all sorts of health disorders, including a terrible sense of frustration and stress.
当我们确实需要休息片刻的时候,我们中的大多数都在快速前进中。每次我们生活中增加了一个新任务或责任时,我们通常会为了完成它而不惜牺牲自己的睡眠时间。在完成之前,我们总是少睡觉也要把它们尽力完成。结果,导致了各种健康紊乱,其中就包括严重的沮丧感和压力。
Learn about the most common sleep thieves and discover strategies for getting the good night’s sleep you deserve.
向那些一下常见的偸睡者学习下吧,寻找一些方法使自己获得应有的睡眠吧。

Think Positively About Time
积极乐观地看待时间
We all know how weeds can overtake a garden, so it is our job constantly to notice and uproot any negative thoughts in the garden that is our mind. As a result, positive thoughts can take root, bloom, and create the beauty that we need in order to enjoy our lives to the fullest. If you hear yourself saying, “I don’t have enough time,” then say, and preferably out loud, “I have all the time I need for all the things I need to do.” A declaration like that has a relaxing and liberating effect on every cell in your body, which relieves tension.
我们都知道种子是 如何成长为一片花园,所以我们的工作就是不断地发现并连根拔起我们心灵花园中负面的思想。这样,积极的思想能够生根,发芽并创造出我们所需的美丽,从而我 们能充分的享受生活。如果你听到自己说,“我没足够的时间,”然后,大声说出,“我有足够的时间做我需要做的事!”这样的一种宣告可以放松并解放你体内的 每一个细胞,从而缓和压力。

http://www.24en.com/fun/soul/2009-11-02/113830.html

学英语要像练武术一样

Filed under: English — jennyca @ 10:34 pm

True mastery of any skill takes a lifetime.
对任何技能的掌握都需要一生的刻苦操练。
中国的每一人几乎都看过很多武打片,武打片里几乎都有同样的故事:全家被杀,走头无路,躲进深山,苦练武功。冬练三九、夏练三伏,君子报仇十年不晚!最 后,成功复仇,故事圆满结束。每次我看武打片最感兴趣的就是他们整个自我锻造的过程。苦练基本功,一招一式都仔细揣摩,反复操练,直至出神入化。这和学英 语是完全一个道理!
回想我的一生,有很多这样的经历。我曾经约同学一起在一棵大苹果树上练了两个多月英语。我们躲在茂密的树里面,坐在树叉上,闻着苹果树香,忘记外面精彩的时间,彻底安静下来,一心想着一口流利的英语。由于每天都能从树中传出喊英语的声音,人们把这棵树叫英语树!
亲爱的朋友们,请打印或抄下下面这段精彩文章,找个公园或风景秀丽的地方,去疯狂操练吧!带上家人和朋友,共享快乐成长时光!
The only way to master a marital art is to practice each move over an over until you can perform it precisely. It takes the same dedicated effort and practice to become a fluent English speaker.

The only way to ever really master English is to practice each word, each syllable and each individual sound until you can pronounce it exactly right. There is no shortcut to becoming a master.

True mastery of any skill takes a lifetime.

http://www.veryen.org/html/pinpaiyingyu/fengkuangyingyu/2009/1020/3205.html

October 3, 2009

新东方名师 – 赵丽

Filed under: Proverbs — jennyca @ 5:18 pm

赵丽不仅仅是在教学上严格要求自己,在其他方面都努力做到最好。对她而言只要努力没有办不到的事情,她有自己的人生格言:十分和十二分原则,即,当别人要 求你十分的东西,你给他十二分的东西,你的人生肯定是向上的;当别人付出十分的努力得到一件东西,你付出十二分,那你肯定比他先得到。这句话听起来很容 易,但真正能做到的人不多。按赵丽的话说:“一个人做一件事情,只有专注、认真才能成功,只有钻进‘牛角尖’中,才会见到‘牛角尖’中别样的风景。”

September 28, 2009

SUCCESS

Filed under: Proverbs — jennyca @ 10:32 pm

A man can succeed at almost anything for which he has unlimited enthusiasm.
C.M.Schwab, American brsinessman 无论何事,只要对它有无限的热情你就能取得成功。
美国实业家施瓦布.C.M.
A chievement provides the only real pleasure in life.
Thomas Eeison, American inventor
有所成就是人生唯一的真正的乐趣。
美国发明家爱迪生,T.
Along with success comes a reputation for wisdom.
Euripides, Ancient Greek ramatist 伴随成功的是智慧的闻名遐迩。
古希腊剧作家欧晨庇德斯

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through expe-rience of trial and suffering
can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared,ambition inspired , and success achieved.
Helen Keller,American writer 要使性格有所发展并非简单之事,只有通过艰难和困苦的磨练才能使心灵强化,视野开阔,雄心振奋,从而达
到成功的目的。
美国作家凯勒H.
I might say that success is won by three things: first, effort;second, more effort;third, still
more effort.
Thomas Hardy, British poet and novelist 可以说成功要靠三件事才能赢得:努力、努力、再努力。
英国诗人、小说家哈代.T.
I succeeded because I willed it; I never hesitated.
Bonapart Napoleon, French emperor 我成功是因为我有决心,从不踌躇。
法国皇帝拿破仑.B.

Only those who have the patience to do simple things perfectly ever acquire the skill to do
difficult things easily.
Friedrich Schiller. Greman dramatist and poet 只有有耐心圆满完成简单工作的人,才能够轻而易举地完成困难的事。
德国剧作家、诗人席勒.F.
People often ask me if I know the secret of success, and if I could tell others how to make their
dreams come true. My answer is, you do it by working.
Walt Disney, American brsinessman 人们时常问我是否晓得成功的诀窍,能否告诉别人怎样使他们的梦想成为现实。我的回答是:身体力行。
美国实业家迪斯尼.W.
Power invariably means both responsibility and danger.
Theodore Roosevelt, American president 实力永远意味着责任和危险。
美国总统罗斯福. T.

Success covers a multitude of blunders.
George bernard Shaw, British ramatist 成功由大量的失误铸就。
英国剧作家肖伯纳。G.
Success often depends upon knowing how long it will take to succeed.
Charles Montesquier, French thinker 成功常常取决于知道需要多久才能成功。
法国思想家孟德斯鸠.C.

The human being longs for a senseof being accomplished, of being able to do things. with his hand, with his mind, with his will. Each of us wants to feel he of she has the ability to do something that is meaningful and that serves a tribute to our inherent abilities.

LeonardR. Saylis, British writer

人们渴求有一种成就感,渴望有能力用自己的手、用自己的脑、用自己的意志办事。我们每个人都希望自己
能够作出有意义、并能显示出自己天赋的事来。
英国作家塞尔斯。L.R.
The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for circumstances they
want,and if they cannot find them, they make them.
George Bernard Shaw, British dramatist 在这个世界上,取得成功的人是那些努力寻找他们想要机会的人,如果找不到机会,他们就去创造机会。
英国剧作家肖伯纳。G.

There is only one success—–to be able to spend your life in your own way.
Morley Christopher, French writer
成功只有一个——既能依自己的方式去度过人生。
法国作家克里斯多夫.M.

Victory won’t come to me unless I go to it.
M. Moore, American pletess 胜利是不会向我走来的,我必须自己走向胜利。
美国女诗人穆尔。M.

Will, work and wait are the pyramidal cornerstones for success.
Louis Pasteur, French chemist 意志、工作和等待是成功的金字塔的基石。
法国化学家巴斯德。L.
You have to believe in yourself.That’s the secret of success.
Charles Chaplin, American actor 人必须相信自己,这是成功的秘诀。
美国演员卓别林.C.

September 15, 2009

影响我们一生的励志10个语句

Filed under: Inspiration — jennyca @ 9:33 pm
1.Do one thing at a time, and do well.
  一次只做一件事,做到最好! 

2.Never forget to say "thanks" .
  永远不要忘了说“谢谢”! 

3.Keep on going. never give up.
  勇往直前, 决不放弃! 

4.Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well.
  任何值得做的事就值得把它做好! 

5.Believe in yourself.
  相信你自己! 

6.I can because i think i can.
  我行,因为我相信我行! 

7.Action speak louder than words.
  行动胜于言语! 

8.Never say die.
  永不气馁! 

9.Never put off what you can do today until tomorrow.
  今日事今日毕! 

10.The best preparation for tomorrow is doing your best today.
  对明天做好的准备就是今天做到最好!

September 12, 2009

学习外语需要-重塑理念

Filed under: English — jennyca @ 11:16 pm

一般来说许多人对英语学习方法特别感兴趣,我也是,但是事实上专注于投机取巧而忽略本质上的学习是注定要挫败的 – 英语学习没有捷径,只有努力程度。正如钱钟书先生所说:“在学习上没有任何捷径可走,即使是绝顶聪明的人,也要下最笨的功夫是的,难以理解,但这是事实。

你努力了没有。看着别人能轻松地听懂英语广播、说一口流利的美语,羡慕得要死,却不知道原因,还归咎于天赋和客观。大凡,学英语有所成者、英语专业者对所谓的方法并不太在意,在意的只是花了多少时间去听写说。是的,太难,但是45岁的钟道隆却可以5:30起床,11点钟睡觉,先后听坏十几部收 录机,一年后成为翻译!你呢?如果真的不想学好英语就罢了,如果想,我只想说:人是要有点精神的。你也行!只是不够努力。时间就象海绵里的水,只 要愿意去挤总还是有的。人的一生就是这么一回事,你可以打牌,玩麻将,也可以努力、尽全力去干成自己喜欢的事。前者简单,后者难为。因为难,所以可贵,才 对得起生活,对得起自己。外国人说,人要是不努力奋斗芝麻也榨不出香油——-做什么事既然要做就要尽力去做,做好—–这就叫性格!许多时候 我们抱怨,闷闷不乐,却从不想一想我够努力了没有?在失去某些东西的努力奋斗中,我们体会到了另一种快乐—奋斗。正所 谓:Pain past is pleasure.
去努力吧,如果你没有成功,是勤奋不够。人,不是一具行尸走肉,人人都有渴求,却总是放弃不了短暂的欢娱与温柔,终铸成一生的遗恨与忧愁!长在同一片蓝天下,别人能,我为什么不能?!

http://www.audiy.com/ilets/ilets216.htm

马克思说得好:“在科学上没有平坦的大路可走,只有不畏劳苦在崎岖小路上攀登的人才有希望达到光辉的顶点。”

大量实践,以量变求质变。


要有时间观念 – “一寸光阴一寸金,寸金难买寸光阴。”

要以最普通的心态来看待自己,要有“笨鸟先飞”的心态 – 钱钟书先生说:“越是聪明人,越要懂得下笨功夫”。

机会对每个人都是平等的,所以要抓住机遇 – 机不可失,时不再来。

哈佛图书馆的二十条训言

1)此刻打盹,你将做梦;而此刻学习,你将圆梦。
2)我荒废的今日,正是昨日殒身之人祈求的明日。
3)觉得为时已晚的时候,恰恰是最早的时候。
4)勿将今日之事拖到明日。
5)学习时的苦痛是暂时的,未学到的痛苦是终生的。
6)学习这件事,不是缺乏时间,而是缺乏努力。
7)幸福或许不排名次,但成功必排名次。
8)学习并不是人生的全部。但既然连人生的一部分 – 学习也无法征服,还能做什么呢?
9)请享受无法回避的痛苦。
10)只有比别人更早、更勤奋地努力,才能尝到成功的滋味。
11)谁也不能随随便便成功,它来自彻底的自我管理和毅力。
12)时间在流逝。
13) 现在流的口水,将成为明天的眼泪。
14) 狗一样地学,绅士一样地玩。
15) 今天不走,明天要跑。
16) 投资未来的人,是忠于现实的人。
17) 受教育程度代表收入。
18) 一天过完,不会再来。
19) 即使现在,对手也不停地翻动书页。
20) 没有艰辛,便无所获。

http://csh.fjnu.edu.cn/2006/News_show.asp?NewsID=74

榜样激励我前行

道隆先生是我若干年前就开始崇拜的,因为他的《英语逆向学习法》,还有他45岁开始学英语、14个月后当翻译的经历。我记住了钟先生最喜欢的那句名言——“绝顶聪明的人偏要下最笨的功夫”。

新东方的老师和他们的讲座,可能的确是影响了无数学生:他们对苦难的坚强,对目标的坚持,对生命的坚信。 俞大哥的自传体书我读过,所以对他的演讲内容并不陌生,但那个演讲却依然让我感动。因为,一个不停懈追求成功的人,他的经历即使被诉说千遍万遍,仍然闪烁着耀眼的光——只要这世界上存在一个奋斗成功的例子,我们就没有任何借口来为自己的不优秀来开脱。

李阳去 年的现场讲座,我听了一场。李阳有无数个让人深刻的表情和无数句让人难忘的表白,我记住其中的一句:成功就是简单的事情重复做,直到成功!

http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_4b28b29a01000c9j.html

August 22, 2009

梦想有多远,你就能飞多远

Filed under: English — jennyca @ 10:52 pm

她很伤心,从臂弯里抬起头,告诉我,她父亲说那些教练讲得不对。他们根本不懂得梦想的力量。她父亲说,如果她真地有心去代表一个好的大学打篮球,如果她真的想获得奖学金,任何东西也不能阻止她,除非她自己没有这个心。

第二年,当她和她的球队去参加北加利福尼亚州冠军赛时,她被一位大学的招生人员看中了。那所大学真地为她提供了一份全额资助的奖学金。父亲又一次跟她说:“如果梦想远大,就一定可以克服艰难险阻。”

I used to watch her from my kitchen window, she seemed so small as she muscled her way through the crowd of boys on the playground. The school was across the street from our home and I would often watch the kids as they played during recess. A sea of children, and yet to me, she stood out from them all.

I remember the first day I saw her playing basketball. I watched in wonder as she ran circles around the other kids. She managed to shoot jump shots just over their heads and into the net. The boys always tried to stop her but no one could.

I began to notice her at other times, basketball in hand, playing alone. She would practice dribbling and shooting over and over again, sometimes until dark. One day I asked her why she practiced so much. She looked directly in my eyes and without a moment of hesitation she said,”I want to go to college. The only way I can go is if I get a scholarship. I like basketball. I decided that if I were good enough, I would get a scholarship. I am going to play college basketball. I want to be the best. My Daddy told me if the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.” Then she smiled and ran towards the court to recap the routine I had seen over and over again.

Well, I had to give it to her— she was determined. I watched her through those junior high years and into high school. Every week, she led her varsity team to victory.

One day in her senior year, I saw her sitting in the grass, head cradled in her arms. I walked across the street and sat down in the cool grass beside her. Quietly I asked what was wrong. “Oh, nothing,” came to a soft reply. “I’m just too short.” The coach told her that at”5′5″ she would probably never get to play for a top ranked team– much less offered a scholarship– so she should stop dreaming about college.

She was heartbroken and I felt my own throat tighten as I sensed her disappointment. I asked her if she had talked to her dad about it yet.She lifted her head from her hands and told me that her father said those coaches were wrong. They just didn’t understand the power of a dream. He told her that if she really wanted to play for a good college, if she truly wanted a scholarship, that nothing could stop her except one thing– her own attitude. He told her again,” if the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.”

The next year, as she and her team went to the Northern California Championship game, she was seen by a college recruiter. She was indeed offered a scholarship, a full ride, to a Division I, NCAA women’s basketball team. She was going to get the college education that she had dreamed of and worked toward for all those years.

It’s true: If the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.

August 18, 2009

Don’t Quit

Filed under: English — jennyca @ 9:55 pm

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow–
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than,
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out–
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit–
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

- Author unknown

August 3, 2009

The Cop And The Anthem by O’ Henry

Filed under: VOA — jennyca @ 7:18 pm

On his bench in Madison Square Soapy moved uneasily, and when Soapy moves uneasily on his bench in the park, you may know that winter is near.

A dead leaf fell in Soapy’s lap. That was Jack Frost’s card. Jack is kind to the regular residents of Madison Square, and gives them warning of his annual call.

Soapy realized the fact that the time had come for him to provide against the coming winter. And therefore he moved uneasily on his bench.

The winter ambitions of Soapy were not of the highest. In them there were no dreams of Mediterranean voyages, of blue Southern skies or the Vesuvian Bay. Three months on the Island was what his soul desired. Three months of assured board and bed and good company, safe from north winds and policemen, seemed to Soapy the most desirable thing.

For years the hospitable Blackwell prison had been his winter refuge. Just as the more fortunate New Yorkers had bought their tickets to Palm Beach and the Riviera each winter, so Soapy had made his arrangements for his annual journey to the island. And now the time had come. On the night before three Sunday newspapers, put under his coat, about his feet and over his lap, had not helped him against the cold as he slept on his bench near the fountain in the old square. There were many institutions of charity in New York where he might receive lodging and food, but to Soapy’s proud spirit the gifts of charity were undesirable. You must pay in humiliation of spirit for everything received at the hands of philanthropy. So it was better to be a guest of the law.

Soapy, having decided to go to the Island, at once set about accomplishing his desire. There were many easy ways of doing this. The pleasantest was to dine at some good restaurant; and then, after declaring bankruptcy, be handed over to a policeman. A magistrate would do the rest.

Soapy left his bench and went out of the square and up Broadway. He stopped at the door of a glittering cafe. He was shaven and his coat was decent. If he could reach a table in the restaurant, the portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter’s mind. A roasted duck, thought Soapy, with a bottle of wine, and then some cheese, a cup of coffee and a cigar would be enough. Such a dinner would make him happy, for the journey to his winter refuge.
But as Soapy entered the restaurant door, the head waiter’s eye fell upon his shabby trousers and old shoes. Strong hands turned him about and pushed him in silence and haste out into the street.
Soapy turned off Broadway. Some other way of entering the desirable refuge must be found.
At a corner of Sixth Avenue Soapy took a stone and sent it through the glass of a glittering shop window. People came running around the corner, a policeman at the head of them. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at the sight of the policeman.
“Where is the man that has done that?” asked the policeman.
“Don’t you think that I have had something to do with it?” said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly.
The policeman paid no attention to Soapy. Men who break windows do not remain to speak with policemen. They run away. He saw a man running to catch a car and rushed after him with his stick in his hand. Soapy, with disgust in his heart, walked along, twice unsuccessful.
On the opposite side of the street was a little restaurant for people with large appetites and modest purses. Soapy entered this place without difficulty. He sat at a table and ate beefsteak and pie. And then he told the waiter that he had no money.
“Now go and call a cop,” said Soapy. “And don’t keep a gentleman waiting.”
“No cop for you,” said the waiter. “Hey!”
In a moment Soapy found himself lying upon his left ear on the pavement. He arose with difficulty, and beat the dust from his clothes. Arrest seemed a rosy dream. The Island seemed very far away. A policeman who stood before a drug store two doors away laughed and walked down the street. Soapy seemed to liberty.
After another unsuccessful attempt to be arrested for persecution a young woman, Soapy went further toward the district of theatres.
When he came upon a policeman standing in front of a glittering theatre, he caught at the straw of “disorderly conduct.”
On the sidewalk Soapy began to sing drunken songs at the top of his voice. He danced, howled, and otherwise disturbed the peace.
The policeman turned his back to Soapy, and said to a citizen:
“It is one of the Yale lads celebrating their football victory over the Hartford College. Noisy, but no harm. We have instructions not to arrest them.”
Sadly, Soapy stopped his useless singing and dancing. A sudden fear seized him. Was he immune to arrest? Would never a policeman lay hands on him? The Island seemed an unattainable Arcadia. He buttoned his thin coat against the north wind.
In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar. He had set his silk umbrella by the door, Soapy entered the store, took the umbrella, and went out with it slowly. The man with the cigar followed hastily.
“My umbrella,” he said.
“Oh, is it?” said Soapy. “Well, why don’t you call a policeman? I took it. Your umbrella! Why don’t you call a cop? There stands one on the corner.”
The umbrella owner slowed his steps. Soapy did likewise. The policeman looked at them curiously.
“Of course,” said the umbrella man, “that is – well, you know how these mistakes occur – I – if it’s your umbrella I hope you’ll excuse me – I picked it up this morning in a restaurant – if it is yours, why – I hope you’ll -”
“Of course it’s mine,” said Soapy.
The ex-umbrella man retreated. The policeman hurried to help a well-dressed woman across the street.
Soapy walked eastward. He threw the umbrella angrily into a pit. He was angry with the men who wear helmets and carry clubs. Because he wanted to be arrested, they seemed to regard him as a king who could do no wrong.
At last Soapy reached one of the avenues to the east where it was not so noisy. He went towards Madison Square, for the home instinct remains even when the home is a park bench.
But on a quiet corner Soapy stopped before an old church. Through one window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the organist played a Sunday anthem. For there came to Soapy’s ears sweet music that caught and held him at the iron fence.
The moon was shining; cars and pedestrians were few; birds twittered sleepily under the roof. And the anthem that the organist played cemented Soapy to the iron fence, for he had known it well in the days when his life contained such things as mothers and roses and ambitions and friends.
The influence of the music and the old church produced a sudden and wonderful change in Soapy’s soul. He saw with horror the pit into which he had fallen. He thought of his degraded days, dead hopes and wrecked faculties.
And also in a moment a strong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of this pit; he would make a man of himself again. There was time; he was young yet. Those sweet organ notes had set up a revolution in him. Tomorrow he would be somebody in the world. He would -
Soapy felt a hand on his arm. He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman.
“What are you doing here?” asked the policeman.
“Nothing,” said Soapy.
“Then come along,” said the policeman.
“Three months on the Island,” said the Magistrate in the Police Court the next morning.
coming up……

警察与赞美诗

苏比躺在麦迪生广场他那条长凳上,辗转反侧。每当雁群在夜空引吭高鸣,每当没有海豹皮大衣的女人跟丈夫亲热起来,每当苏比躺在街心公园长凳上辗转反侧,这时候,你就知道冬天迫在眉睫了。

一张枯叶飘落在苏比的膝头。这是杰克·弗洛斯特的名片。杰克对麦迪生广场的老住户很客气,每年光临之前,总要先打个招呼。他在十字街头把名片递给“露天公寓”的门公佬“北风”,好让房客们有所准备。
苏比明白,为了抵御寒冬,由他亲自出马组织一个单人财务委员会的时候到了。为此,他在长凳上辗转反侧,不能入寐。
苏比的冬居计划并不过奢。他没打算去地中海游弋,也不想去晒南方令人昏昏欲睡的太阳,更没考虑到维苏威湾去漂流。他衷心企求的仅仅是去岛上度过三个 月。整整三个月不愁食宿,伙伴们意气相投,再没有“北风”老儿和警察老爷来纠缠不清,在苏比看来,人生的乐趣也莫过于此了。
多年来,好客的布莱克威尔岛监狱一直是他的冬季寓所。正如福气比他好的纽约人每年冬天要买票去棕榈滩和里维埃拉一样,苏比也不免要为一年一度的“冬狩 ”作些最必要的安排。现在,时候到了。昨天晚上,他躺在古老的广场喷泉和近的长凳上,把三份星期天的厚报纸塞在上衣里,盖在脚踝和膝头上,都没有能挡住寒 气。这就使苏比的脑海里迅速而鲜明地浮现出岛子的影子。他瞧不起慈善事业名下对地方上穷人所作的布施。在苏比眼里,法律比救济仁慈得多。他可去的地方多的 是,有市政府办的,有救济机关办的,在那些地方他都能混吃混住。当然,生活不能算是奢侈。可是对苏比这样一个灵魂高傲的人来说,施舍的办法是行不通的。从 慈善机构手里每得到一点点好处,钱固然不必花,却得付出精神上的屈辱来回报。真是凡事有利必有弊,要睡慈善单位的床铺,先得让人押去洗上一个澡;要吃他一 块面包,还得先一五一十交代清个人的历史。因此,还是当法律的客人来得强。法律虽然铁面无私,照章办事,至少没那么不知趣,会去干涉一位大爷的私事。
既经打定主意去岛上,苏比立刻准备实现自己的计划。省事的办法倒也不少。最舒服的莫过于在哪家豪华的餐馆里美美地吃上一顿,然后声明自己不名一钱,这就可以悄悄地、安安静静地交到警察手里。其余的事,自有一位识相的推事来料理。
苏比离开长凳,踱出广场,穿过百老汇路和五马路汇合处那处平坦的柏油路面。他拐到百老汇路,在一家灯火辉煌的餐馆门前停了下来,每天晚上,这里汇集着葡萄、蚕丝与原生质的最佳制品。
苏比对自己西服背心最低一颗纽扣以上的部分很有信心。他刮过脸,他的上装还算过得去,他那条干干净净的活结领带是感恩节那天一位教会里的女士送给他 的。只要他能走到餐桌边不引人生疑,那就为生券在握了。他露出桌面的上半身还不至于让侍者起怀疑。一只烤野鸭,苏比寻思,那就差不离——再来一瓶夏白立酒 然后是一份戛曼包干酪,一小杯浓咖啡,再来一支雪茄烟。一块钱一支的那种也就凑合了。总数既不会大得让饭店柜上发狠报复,这顿牙祭又能让他去冬宫的旅途上 无牵无挂,心满意足。
可是苏比刚迈进饭店的门,侍者领班的眼光就落到他的旧裤子和破皮鞋上。粗壮利落的手把他推了个转身,悄悄而迅速地把他打发到人行道上,那只险遭暗算的野鸭的不体面命运也从而得以扭转。
苏比离开了百老汇路。看来靠打牙祭去那个日思夜想的岛是不成的了。要进地狱,还是想想别的办法。
在六马路拐角上有一家铺子,灯光通明,陈设别致,大玻璃橱窗很惹眼。苏比捡起块鹅卵石往大玻璃上砸去。人们从拐角上跑来,领头的是个巡警。苏比站定了不动,两手插在口袋里,对着铜纽扣直笑。
“肇事的家伙在哪儿?”警察气急败坏地问。
“你难道看不出我也许跟这事有点牵连吗?”苏比说,口气虽然带点嘲讽,却很友善,仿佛好运在等着他。
在警察的脑子里苏比连个旁证都算不上。砸橱窗的人没有谁会留下来和法律的差役打交道。他们总是一溜烟似地跑。警察看见半条街外有个人跑着去赶搭车子。他抽出警棍,追了上去。苏比心里窝火极了,他拖着步子走了开去。两次了,都砸了锅。
街对面有家不怎么起眼的饭馆。它投合胃口大钱包小的吃客。它那儿的盘盏和气氛都粗里粗气,它那儿的菜汤和餐巾都稀得透光。苏比挪动他那双暴露身份的皮 鞋和泄露真相的裤子跨时饭馆时倒没遭到白眼。他在桌子旁坐下来,消受了一块牛排、一份煎饼、一份油炸糖圈,以及一份馅儿饼。吃完后他向侍者坦白:他无缘结 识钱大爷,钱大爷也与他素昧平生。
“手脚麻利些,去请个警察来,”苏比说,“别让大爷久等。”
“用不着惊动警察老爷,”侍者说,嗓音油腻得像奶油蛋糕,眼睛红得像鸡尾酒里浸泡的樱桃,“喂,阿康!”
两个侍者干净利落地把苏比往外一叉,正好让他左耳贴地摔在铁硬的人行道上。他一节一节地撑了起来,像木匠在打开一把折尺,然后又掸去衣服上的尘土。被捕仿佛只是一个绊色的梦。那个岛远在天边。两个门面之外一家药铺前就站着个警察,他光是笑了笑,顺着街走开去了。
苏比一直过了五个街口,才再次鼓起勇气去追求被捕。这一回机会好极了,他还满以为十拿九稳,万无一失呢。一个衣着简朴颇为讨人喜欢的年轻女子站在橱窗前,兴味十足地盯着陈列的剃须缸与墨水台。而离店两码远,就有一位彪形大汉——警察,表情严峻地靠在救火龙头上。
苏比的计划是扮演一个下流的、讨厌的小流氓。他的对象文雅娴静,又有一位忠于职守的巡警近在咫尺,使他很有理由相信,警察那双可爱的手很快就会落到他身上,使他在岛上冬蛰的小安乐窝里吃喝不愁。
苏比把教会女士送的活结领带拉挺,把缩进袖口的衬衫袖子拉出来,把帽子往后一推,歪得马上要掉下来,向那女子挨将过去。他厚着面皮把小流氓该干的那一 套恶心勾当一段段表演下去。苏比把眼光斜扫过去,只见那警察在盯住他。年轻女人挪动了几步,又专心致志地看起剃须缸来。苏比跟了过去,大胆地挨到她的身 边,把帽子举了一举,说:
“啊哈,我说,贝蒂丽亚!你不是说要到我院子里去玩儿吗?”
警察还在盯着。那受人轻薄的女子只消将手指一招,苏比就等于进安乐岛了。他想象中已经感到了巡捕房的舒适和温暖。年轻的女士转过脸来,伸出一只手,抓住苏比的袖子。
“可不是吗,迈克,”她兴致勃勃地说,“不过你先得破费给我买杯猫尿。要不是那巡警老盯着,我早就要跟你搭腔了。”
那娘们像常春藤一样紧紧攀住苏比这棵橡树,苏比好不懊丧地在警察身边走了过去。看来他的自由是命中注定的了。
一拐弯,他甩掉女伴撒腿就走。他一口气来到一个地方,一到晚上,最轻佻的灯光,最轻松的心灵,最轻率的盟誓,最轻快的歌剧,都在这里荟萃。身穿轻裘大 氅的淑女绅士在寒冷的空气里兴高采烈地走动。苏比突然感到一阵恐惧,会不会有什么可怕的魔法镇住了他,使他永远也不会被捕呢?这个念头使他有点发慌,但是 当他遇见一个警察大模大样在灯火通明的剧院门前巡逻时,他马上就捞起“扰乱治安”这根稻草来。
苏比在人行道上扯直他那破锣似的嗓子,像醉鬼那样乱嚷嚷。他又是跳,又是吼,又是骂,用尽了办法大吵大闹。
警察让警棍打着旋,身子转过去背对苏比,向一个市民解释道:
“这是个耶鲁的小伙子在庆祝胜利,他们跟哈德福学院赛球,请人家吃了鸭蛋。够吵的,可是不碍事。我们有指示,让他们只管闹去。”
苏比怏怏地停止了白费气力的吵闹。难道就没有一个警察来抓他了吗?在他的幻想中。那岛已成为可望不可即的仙岛。他扣好单薄的上衣以抵挡刺骨的寒风。
他看见雪茄烟店里一个衣冠楚楚的人对着摇曳的火头在点烟。那人进店时,将一把绸伞靠在门边。苏比跨进店门,拿起绸伞,慢吞吞地退了出去。对火的人赶紧追出来。
“我的伞。”他厉声说道。
“噢,是吗?”苏比冷笑说;在小偷小摸的罪名上又加上侮辱这一条。“好,那你干吗不叫警察?不错,是我拿的。你的伞!你怎么不叫巡警?那边拐角上就有一个。”
伞主人放慢了脚步,苏比也放慢脚步。他有一种预感:他又一次背运了。那警察好奇地瞅着这两个人。
“当然,”伞主人说,“嗯……是啊,你知道有时候会发生误会……我……要是这伞是你的我希望你别见怪……我是今天早上在一家饭店里捡的……要是你认出来这是你的,那么……我希望你别……”
“当然是我的。”苏比恶狠狠地说。
伞的前任主人退了下去。好警察急匆匆地跑去搀一位穿晚礼服的金发高个儿女士过马路,免得她被在两条街以外往这边驶来的电车撞着。
苏比往东走,穿过一条因为翻修而高低不平的马路。他忿忿地把伞扔进一个坑。他嘟嘟哝哝咒骂起那些头戴钢盔,手拿警棍的家伙来。因为他想落入法网,而他们偏偏认为他是个永远不会犯错误的国王①。
最后,苏比来到通往东区的一条马路上,这儿灯光暗了下来,嘈杂声传来也是隐隐约约的。他顺着街往麦迪生广场走去,因为即使他的家仅仅是公园里的一条长凳,他仍然有夜深知归的本能。
可是,在一个异常幽静的地段,苏比停住了脚步。这时有一座古老的教堂,建筑古雅,不很规整,是有山墙的那种房子。柔和的灯光透过淡紫色花玻璃窗子映射 出来,风琴师为了练熟星期天的赞美诗,在键盘上按过来按过去。动人的乐音飘进苏比的耳朵,吸引了他,把他胶着在螺旋形的铁栏杆上。
明月悬在中天,光辉、静穆;车辆与行人都很稀少;檐下的冻雀睡梦中啁啾了几声——这境界一时之间使人想起乡村教堂边上的墓地。风琴师奏出的赞美诗使铁 栏杆前的苏比入定了,因为当他在生活中有母爱、玫瑰、雄心、朋友以及洁白无瑕的思想与衣领时,赞美诗对他来说是很熟悉的。
苏比这时敏感的心情和老教堂的潜移默化会合在一起,使他灵魂里突然起了奇妙的变化。他猛然对他所落入的泥坑感到憎厌。那堕落的时光,低俗的欲望,心灰意懒,才能衰退,动机不良——这一切现在都构成了他的生活内容。
一刹那间,新的意境醒醐灌顶似地激荡着他。一股强烈迅速的冲动激励着他去向坎坷的命运奋斗。他要把自己拉出泥坑,他要重新做一个好样儿的人。他要征服 那已经控制了他的罪恶。时间还不晚,他还算年轻,他要重新振作当年的雄心壮志,坚定不移地把它实现。管风琴庄严而甜美的音调使他内心起了一场革命。明天他 要到熙熙攘攘的商业区去找事做。有个皮货进口商曾经让他去赶车。他明天就去找那商人,把这差使接下来。他要做个烜赫一时的人。他要——
苏比觉得有一只手按在他胳膊上。他霍地扭过头,只见是警察的一张胖脸。
“你在这儿干什么?”那警察问。
“没干什么。”苏比回答。
“那你跟我来。”警察说。

第二天早上,警察局法庭上的推事宣判道:“布莱克威尔岛,三个月。”

The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry

Filed under: VOA — jennyca @ 7:13 pm

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it in the smallest pieces of money – pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by negotiating with the men at the market who sold vegetables and meat. Negotiating until one’s face burned with the silent knowledge of being poor. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but sit down and cry. So Della cried. Which led to the thought that life is made up of little cries and smiles, with more little cries than smiles.

Della finished her crying and dried her face. She stood by the window and looked out unhappily at a gray cat walking along a gray fence in a gray back yard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only one dollar and eighty-seven cents to buy her husband Jim a gift. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result.

Jim earned twenty dollars a week, which does not go far. Expenses had been greater than she had expected. They always are. Many a happy hour she had spent planning to buy something nice for him. Something fine and rare — something close to being worthy of the honor of belonging to Jim.

There was a tall glass mirror between the windows of the room. Suddenly Della turned from the window and stood before the glass mirror and looked at herself. Her eyes were shining, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Quickly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, Mister and Missus James Dillingham Young had two possessions which they valued. One was Jim’s gold time piece, the watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair.

Had the Queen of Sheba lived in their building, Della would have let her hair hang out the window to dry just to reduce the value of the queen’s jewels.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her, shining like a brown waterfall. It reached below her knees and made itself almost like a covering for her. And then quickly she put it up again. She stood still while a few tears fell on the floor.

She put on her coat and her old brown hat. With a quick motion and brightness still in her eyes, she danced out the door and down the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: “Madame Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” Della ran up the steps to the shop, out of breath.

“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.

“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take your hat off and let us have a look at it.”

Down came the beautiful brown waterfall of hair.

“Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the hair with an experienced hand.

“Give it to me quick,” said Della.

(MUSIC)

The next two hours went by as if they had wings. Della looked in all the stores to choose a gift for Jim.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. It was a chain — simple round rings of silver. It was perfect for Jim’s gold watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be for him. It was like him. Quiet and with great value. She gave the shopkeeper twenty-one dollars and she hurried home with the eighty-seven cents that was left.

When Della arrived home she began to repair what was left of her hair. The hair had been ruined by her love and her desire to give a special gift. Repairing the damage was a very big job.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny round curls of hair that made her look wonderfully like a schoolboy. She looked at herself in the glass mirror long and carefully.

“If Jim does not kill me before he takes a second look at me,” she said to herself, “he’ll say I look like a song girl. But what could I do–oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”

At seven o’clock that night the coffee was made and the pan on the back of the stove was hot and ready to cook the meat.

Jim was never late coming home from work. Della held the silver chain in her hand and sat near the door. Then she heard his step and she turned white for just a minute. She had a way of saying a little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.”

(MUSIC)

The door opened and Jim stepped in. He looked thin and very serious. Poor man, he was only twenty-two and he had to care for a wife. He needed a new coat and gloves to keep his hands warm.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a dog smelling a bird. His eyes were fixed upon Della. There was an expression in them that she could not read, and it frightened her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor fear, nor any of the feelings that she had been prepared for. He simply looked at her with a strange expression on his face. Della went to him.

“Jim, my love,” she cried, “do not look at me that way. I had my hair cut and sold because I could not have lived through Christmas without giving you a gift. My hair will grow out again. I just had to do it. My hair grows very fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let us be happy. You do not know what a nice– what a beautiful, nice gift I have for you.”

“You have cut off your hair?” asked Jim, slowly, as if he had not accepted the information even after his mind worked very hard.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Do you not like me just as well? I am the same person without my hair, right?

Jim looked about the room as if he were looking for something.

“You say your hair is gone?” he asked.

“You need not look for it,” said Della. “It is sold, I tell you–sold and gone, too. It is Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it was cut for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the meat on, Jim?”

Jim seemed to awaken quickly and put his arms around Della. Then he took a package from his coat and threw it on the table.

“Do not make any mistake about me, Dell,” he said. “I do not think there is any haircut that could make me like my girl any less. But if you will open that package you may see why you had me frightened at first.”

White fingers quickly tore at the string and paper. There was a scream of joy; and then, alas! a change to tears and cries, requiring the man of the house to use all his skill to calm his wife.

For there were the combs — the special set of objects to hold her hair that Della had wanted ever since she saw them in a shop window. Beautiful combs, made of shells, with jewels at the edge –just the color to wear in the beautiful hair that was no longer hers. They cost a lot of money, she knew, and her heart had wanted them without ever hoping to have them. And now, the beautiful combs were hers, but the hair that should have touched them was gone.

But she held the combs to herself, and soon she was able to look up with a smile and say, “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

Then Della jumped up like a little burned cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful gift. She happily held it out to him in her open hands. The silver chain seemed so bright.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Jim? I looked all over town to find it. You will have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.”

Instead of obeying, Jim fell on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

“Dell,” said he, “let us put our Christmas gifts away and keep them a while. They are too nice to use just right now. I sold my gold watch to get the money to buy the set of combs for your hair. And now, why not put the meat on.”

(MUSIC)

The magi were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Baby Jesus. They invented the art of giving Christmas gifts. Being wise, their gifts were wise ones. And here I have told you the story of two young people who most unwisely gave for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days, let it be said that of all who give gifts, these two were the wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

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