--?By? Helen?Keller
成都創(chuàng)新互聯(lián)是一家專業(yè)提供即墨企業(yè)網(wǎng)站建設,專注與網(wǎng)站設計制作、成都網(wǎng)站制作、H5場景定制、小程序制作等業(yè)務。10年已為即墨眾多企業(yè)、政府機構等服務。創(chuàng)新互聯(lián)專業(yè)網(wǎng)站設計公司優(yōu)惠進行中。
Three?Days?to?See
All?of?us?have?read?thrilling?stories?in?which?the?hero?had?only?a?limited?and?specified?time?to?live.?Sometimes?it?was?as?long?as?a?year;?sometimes?as?short?as?twenty-four?hours.But?always?we?were?interested?in?discovering?just?how?the?doomed?man?chose?to?spend?his?last?days?or?his?last?hours.?I?speak,?of?course,?of?free?men?who?have?a?choice,?not?condemned?criminals?whose?sphere?of?activities?is?strictly?delimited.
Such?stories?set?us?thinking,?wondering?what?we?should?do?under?similar?circumstances.?What?events,?what?experiences,?what?associations?should?we?crowd?into?those?last?hours?as?mortal?beings??What?happiness?should?we?find?in?reviewing?the?past,?what?regrets?
Sometimes?I?have?thought?it?would?be?an?excellent?rule?to?live?each?day?as?if?we?should?die?tomorrow.?Such?an?attitude?would?emphasize?sharply?the?values?of?life.?We?should?live?each?day?with?a?gentleness,?a?vigor,?and?a?keenness?of?appreciation?which?are?often?lost?when?time?stretches?before?us?in?the?constant?panorama?of?more?days?and?months?and?years?to?come.? There?are?those,?of?course,?who?would?adopt?the?Epicurean?motto?of?"Eat,?drink,?and?be?merry,"?but?most?people?would?be?chastened?by?the?certainty?of?impending?death.
In?stories?the?doomed?hero?is?usually?saved?at?the?last?minute?by?some?stroke?of?fortune,?but?almost?always?his?sense?of?values?is?changed.?he?becomes?more?appreciative?of?the?meaning?of?life?and?its?permanent?spiritual?values.?It?ahs?often?been?noted?that?those?who?live,?or?have?lived,?in?the?shadow?of?death?bring?a?mellow?sweetness?to?everything?they?do.
Most?of?us,?however,?take?life?for?granted.?We?know?that?one?day?we?must?die,?but?usually?we?picture?that?day?as?far?in?the?future.?When?we?are?in?buoyant?health,?death?is?all?but?unimaginable.?We?seldom?think?of?it.?The?days?stretch?out?in?an?endless?vista.?So?we?go?about?our?petty?tasks,?hardly?aware?of?our?listless?attitude?toward?life.
The?same?lethargy,?I?am?afraid,?characterizes?the?use?of?all?our?faculties?and?senses.?Only?the?deaf?appreciate?hearing,?only?the?blind?realize?the?manifold?blessings?that?lie?in?sight.?Particularly?does?this?observation?apply?to?those?who?have?lost?sight?and?hearing?in?adult?life.?But?those?who?have?never?suffered?impairment?of?sight?or?hearing?seldom?make?the?fullest?use?of?these?blessed?faculties.?Their?eyes?and?ears?take?in?all?sights?and?sounds?hazily,?without?concentration?and?with?little?appreciation.?It?is?the?same?old?story?of?not?being?grateful?for?what?we?have?until?we?lose?it,?of?not?being?conscious?of?health?until?we?are?ill.
I?have?often?thought?it?would?be?a?blessing?if?each?human?being?were?stricken?blind?and?deaf?for?a?few?days?at?some?time?during?his?early?adult?life.?Darkness?would?make?him?more?appreciative?of?sight;?silence?would?tech?him?the?joys?of?sound.
Now?and?them?I?have?tested?my?seeing?friends?to?discover?what?they?see.?Recently?I?was?visited?by?a?very?good?friends?who?had?just?returned?from?a?long?walk?in?the?woods,?and?I?asked?her?what?she?had?observed..?"Nothing?in?particular,?"?she?replied.?I?might?have?been?incredulous?had?I?not?been?accustomed?to?such?reposes,?for?long?ago?I?became?convinced?that?the?seeing?see?little.
How?was?it?possible,?I?asked?myself,?to?walk?for?an?hour?through?the?woods?and?see?nothing?worthy?of?note??I?who?cannot?see?find?hundreds?of?things?to?interest?me?through?mere?touch.?I?feel?the?delicate?symmetry?of?a?leaf.?I?pass?my?hands?lovingly?about?the?smooth?skin?of?a?silver?birch,?or?the?rough,?shaggy?bark?of?a?pine.?In?the?spring?I?touch?the?branches?of?trees?hopefully?in?search?of?a?bud?the?first?sign?of?awakening?Nature?after?her?winter's?sleep.?I?feel?the?delightful,?velvety?texture?of?a?flower,?and?discover?its?remarkable?convolutions;?and?something?of?the?miracle?of?Nature?is?revealed?to?me.?Occasionally,?if?I?am?very?fortunate,?I?place?my?hand?gently?on?a?small?tree?and?feel?the?happy?quiver?of?a?bird?in?full?song.?I?am?delighted?to?have?the?cool?waters?of?a?brook?rush?thought?my?open?finger.?To?me?a?lush?carpet?of?pine?needles?or?spongy?grass?is?more?welcome?than?the?most?luxurious?Persian?rug.?To?me?the?page?ant?of?seasons?is?a?thrilling?and?unending?drama,?the?action?of?which?streams?through?my?finger?tips.
At?times?my?heart?cries?out?with?longing?to?see?all?these?things.?If?I?can?get?so?much?pleasure?from?mere?touch,?how?much?more?beauty?must?be?revealed?by?sight.?Yet,?those?who?have?eyes?apparently?see?little.?the?panorama?of?color?and?action?which?fills?the?world?is?taken?for?granted.?It?is?human,?perhaps,?to?appreciate?little?that?which?we?have?and?to?long?for?that?which?we?have?not,?but?it?is?a?great?pity?that?in?the?world?of?light?the?gift?of?sight?is?used?only?as?a?mere?conveniences?rather?than?as?a?means?of?adding?fullness?to?life.
If?I?were?the?president?of?a?university?I?should?establish?a?compulsory?course?in?"How?to?Use?Your?Eyes".?The?professor?would?try?to?show?his?pupils?how?they?could?add?joy?to?their?lives?by?really?seeing?what?passes?unnoticed?before?them.?He?would?try?to?awake?their?dormant?and?sluggish?faculties.
Perhaps?I?can?best?illustrate?by?imagining?what?I?should?most?like?to?see?if?I?were?given?the?use?of?my?eyes,?say,?for?just?three?days.?And?while?I?am?imagining,?suppose?you,?too,set?your?mind?to?work?on?the?problem?of?how?you?would?use?your?own?eyes?if?you?had?only?three?more?days?to?see.?If?with?the?on-coming?darkness?of?the?third?night?you?knew?that?the?sun?would?never?rise?for?you?again,?how?would?you?spend?those?three?precious?intervening?days??What?would?you?most?want?to?let?your?gaze?rest?upon?
I,?naturally,?should?want?most?to?see?the?things?which?have?become?dear?to?me?through?my?years?of?darkness.?You,?too,?would?want?to?let?your?eyes?rest?on?the?things?that?have?become?dear?to?you?so?that?you?could?take?the?memory?of?them?with?you?into?the?night?that?loomed?before?you.
If,?by?some?miracle,?I?were?granted?three?seeing?days,?to?be?followed?by?a?relapse?into?darkness,?I?should?divide?the?period?into?three?parts.
The?First?Day
On?the?first?day,?I?should?want?to?see?the?people?whose?kindness?and?gentleness?and?companionship?have?made?my?life?worth?living.?First?I?should?like?to?gaze?long?upon?the?face?of?my?dear?teacher,?Mrs.?Anne?Sullivan?Macy,?who?came?to?me?when?I?was?a?child?and?opened?the?outer?world?to?me.?I?should?want?not?merely?to?see?the?outline?of?her?face,?so?that?I?could?cherish?it?in?my?memory,?but?to?study?that?face?and?find?in?it?the?living?evidence?of?the?sympathetic?tenderness?and?patience?with?which?she?accomplished?the?difficult?task?of?my?education.?I?should?like?to?see?in?her?eyes?that?strength?of?character?which?has?enabled?her?to?stand?firm?in?the?face?of?difficulties,?and?that?compassion?for?all?humanity?which?she?has?revealed?to?me?so?often.
I?do?not?know?what?it?is?to?see?into?the?heart?of?a?friend?through?that?"Window?of?the?soul",?the?eye.?I?can?only?"see"?through?my?finger?tips?the?outline?of?a?face.?I?can?detect?laughter,?sorrow,?and?many?other?obvious?emotions.?I?know?my?friends?from?the?feel?of?their?faces.?But?I?cannot?really?picture?their?personalities?by?touch.?I?know?their?personalities,?of?course,?through?other?means,?through?the?thoughts?they?express?to?me,?through?whatever?of?their?actions?are?revealed?to?me.?But?I?am?denied?that?deeper?understanding?of?them?which?I?am?sure?would?come?through?sight?of?them,?through?watching?their?reactions?to?various?expressed?thoughts?and?circumstances,?through?noting?the?immediate?and?fleeting?reactions?of?their?eyes?and?countenance.
Friends?who?are?near?to?me?I?know?well,?because?through?the?months?and?years?they?reveal?themselves?to?me?in?all?their?phases;?but?of?casual?friends?I?have?only?an?incomplete?impression,?an?impression?gained?from?a?handclasp,?from?spoken?words?which?I?take?from?their?lips?with?my?finger?tips,?or?which?they?tap?into?the?palm?of?my?hand.
How?much?easier,?how?much?more?satisfying?it?is?for?you?who?can?see?to?grasp?quickly?the?essential?qualities?of?another?person?by?watching?the?subtleties?of?expression,?the?quiver?of?a?muscle,?the?flutter?of?a?hand.?But?does?it?ever?occur?to?you?to?use?your?sight?to?see?into?the?inner?nature?of?a?friends?or?acquaintance/?Do?not?most?of?you?seeing?people?grasp?casually?the?outward?features?of?a?face?and?let?it?go?at?that?
For?instance?can?you?describe?accurately?the?faces?of?five?good?friends??some?of?you?can,?but?many?cannot.?As?an?experiment,?I?have?questioned?husbands?of?long?standing?about?the?color?of?their?wives'?eyes,?and?often?they?express?embarrassed?confusion?and?admit?that?they?do?not?know.?And,?incidentally,?it?is?a?chronic?complaint?of?wives?that?their?husbands?do?not?notice?new?dresses,?new?hats,?and?changes?in?household?arrangements.
The?eyes?of?seeing?persons?soon?become?accustomed?to?the?routine?of?their?surroundings,?and?they?actually?see?only?the?startling?and?spectacular.?But?even?in?viewing?the?most?spectacular?sights?the?eyes?are?lazy.?Court?records?reveal?every?day?how?inaccurately?"eyewitnesses"?see.?A?given?event?will?be?"seen"?in?several?different?ways?by?as?many?witnesses.?Some?see?more?than?others,?but?few?see?everything?that?is?within?the?range?of?their?vision.
Oh,?the?things?that?I?should?see?if?I?had?the?power?of?sight?for?just?three?days!
The?first?day?would?be?a?busy?one.?I?should?call?to?me?all?my?dear?friends?and?look?long?into?their?faces,?imprinting?upon?my?mind?the?outward?evidences?of?the?beauty?that?is?within?them.?I?should?let?my?eyes?rest,?too,?on?the?face?of?a?baby,?so?that?I?could?catch?a?vision?of?the?eager,?innocent?beauty?which?precedes?the?individual's?consciousness?of?the?conflicts?which?life?develops.
And?I?should?like?to?look?into?the?loyal,?trusting?eyes?of?my?dogs?-?the?grave,?canny?little?Scottie,?Darkie,?and?the?stalwart,?understanding?Great?Dane,?Helga,?whose?warm,?tender,?and?playful?friendships?are?so?comforting?to?me.
On?that?busy?first?day?I?should?also?view?the?small?simple?things?of?my?home.?I?want?to?see?the?warm?colors?in?the?rugs?under?my?feet,?the?pictures?on?the?walls,?the?intimate?trifles?that?transform?a?house?into?home.?My?eyes?would?rest?respectfully?on?the?books?in?raised?type?which?I?have?read,?but?they?would?be?more?eagerly?interested?in?the?printed?books?which?seeing?people?can?read,?for?during?the?long?night?of?my?life?the?books?I?have?read?and?those?which?have?been?read?to?me?have?built?themselves?into?a?great?shining?lighthouse,?revealing?to?me?the?deepest?channels?of?human?life?and?the?human?spirit.
In?the?afternoon?of?that?first?seeing?day.?I?should?take?a?long?walk?in?the?woods?and?intoxicate?my?eyes?on?the?beauties?of?the?world?of?Nature?trying?desperately?to?absorb?in?a?few?hours?the?vast?splendor?which?is?constantly?unfolding?itself?to?those?who?can?see.?On?the?way?home?from?my?woodland?jaunt?my?path?would?lie?near?a?farm?so?that?I?might?see?the?patient?horses?ploughing?in?the?field?9perhaps?I?should?see?only?a?tractor!)?and?the?serene?content?of?men?living?close?to?the?soil.?And?I?should?pray?for?the?glory?of?a?colorful?sunset.
When?dusk?had?fallen,?I?should?experience?the?double?delight?of?being?able?to?see?by?artificial?light?which?the?genius?of?man?has?created?to?extend?the?power?of?his?sight?when?Nature?decrees?darkness.
In?the?night?of?that?first?day?of?sight,?I?should?not?be?able?to?sleep,?so?full?would?be?my?mind?of?the?memories?of?the?day.
The?Second?Day
The?next?day?-?the?second?day?of?sight?-?I?should?arise?with?the?dawn?and?see?the?thrilling?miracle?by?which?night?is?transformed?into?day.?I?should?behold?with?awe?the?magnificent?panorama?of?light?with?which?the?sun?awakens?the?sleeping?earth.
This?day?I?should?devote?to?a?hasty?glimpse?of?the?world,?past?and?present.?I?should?want?to?see?the?pageant?of?man's?progress,?the?kaleidoscope?of?the?ages.?How?can?so?much?be?compressed?into?one?day??Through?the?museums,?of?course.?Often?I?have?visited?the?New?York?Museum?of?Natural?History?to?touch?with?my?hands?many?of?the?objects?there?exhibited,?but?I?have?longed?to?see?with?my?eyes?the?condensed?history?of?the?earth?and?its?inhabitants?displayed?there?-?animals?and?the?races?of?men?pictured?in?their?native?environment;gigantic?carcasses?of?dinosaurs?and?mastodons?which?roamed?the?earth?long?before?man?appeared,?with?his?tiny?stature?and?powerful?brain,?to?conquer?the?animal?kingdom;?realistic?presentations?of?the?processes?of?development?in?animals,?in?man,?and?in?the?implements?which?man?has?used?to?fashion?for?himself?a?secure?home?on?this?planet;?and?a?thousand?and?one?other?aspects?of?natural?history.
I?wonder?how?many?readers?of?this?article?have?viewed?this?panorama?of?the?face?of?living?things?as?pictured?in?that?inspiring?museum.?Many,?of?course,?have?not?had?the?opportunity,?but?I?am?sure?that?many?who?have?had?the?opportunity?have?not?made?use?of?it.?there,?indeed,?is?a?place?to?use?your?eyes.?You?who?see?can?spend?many?fruitful?days?there,?but?I?with?my?imaginary?three?days?of?sight,?could?only?take?a?hasty?glimpse,?and?pass?on.
My?next?stop?would?be?the?Metropolitan?Museum?of?Art,?for?just?as?the?Museum?of?Natural?History?reveals?the?material?aspects?of?the?world,?so?does?the?Metropolitan?show?the?myriad?facets?of?the?human?spirit.?Throughout?the?history?of?humanity?the?urge?to?artistic?expression?has?been?almost?as?powerful?as?the?urge?for?food,?shelter,?and?procreation.?And?here,?in?the?vast?chambers?of?the?Metropolitan?Museum,?is?unfolded?before?me?the?spirit?of?Egypt,?Greece,?and?Rome,?as?expressed?in?their?art.?I?know?well?through?my?hands?the?sculptured?gods?and?goddesses?of?the?ancient?Nile-land.?I?have?felt?copies?of?Parthenon?friezes,?and?I?have?sensed?the?rhythmic?beauty?of?charging?Athenian?warriors.?Apollos?and?Venuses?and?the?Winged?Victory?of?Samothrace?are?friends?of?my?finger?tips.?The?gnarled,?bearded?features?of?Homer?are?dear?to?me,?for?he,?too,?knew?blindness.
My?hands?have?lingered?upon?the?living?marble?of?roman?sculpture?as?well?as?that?of?later?generations.?I?have?passed?my?hands?over?a?plaster?cast?of?Michelangelo's?inspiring?and?heroic?Moses;?I?have?sensed?the?power?of?Rodin;?I?have?been?awed?by?the?devoted?spirit?of?Gothic?wood?carving.?These?arts?which?can?be?touched?have?meaning?for?me,?but?even?they?were?meant?to?be?seen?rather?than?felt,?and?I?can?only?guess?at?the?beauty?which?remains?hidden?from?me.?I?can?admire?the?simple?lines?of?a?Greek?vase,?but?its?figured?decorations?are?lost?to?me.
最喜歡這一段
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
by Hellen Keller
以下是全文
假如給我三天光明(海倫·凱勒 Helen Keller)
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours. But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It ahs often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would tech him the joys of sound.
Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. "Nothing in particular, " she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see. If with the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
The First Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "Window of the soul", the eye. I can only "see" through my finger tips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch. I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friends or acquaintance/ Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see. A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one. I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home. I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoon of that first seeing day. I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field 9perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, so full would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day of sight - I should arise with the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course. Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of the processes of development in animals, in man, and in the implements which man has used to fashion for himself a secure home on this planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers of the Metropolitan Museum, is unfolded before me the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as expressed in their art. I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile-land. I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors. Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that of later generations. I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving. These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through this art. The things I knew through touch I should now see. More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions. I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt. I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of E1 Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you. I should be able to get only a superficial impression. Artists tell me that for deep and true appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color. If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study! Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night, unexplored and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected. Seeing persons, however, do not need a metropolitan to find this key to beauty. The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening of my second day of sight I should spend at a theatre or at the movies. Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings! How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see. You who have eyes can see any you like. How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle. I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama, and I shall never forget the delight of that moment. But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
1、首先你會看到 James 偵探：我是XXX研究中心……點進入博士的家。 2、點擊車的右下角，靠墻的角落處有一根鐵棒，點擊拾起。 3、回到主界面，點擊兩次向右箭頭?？吹綐渖嫌乙粋€白色小物體，點擊用剛剛得到的鐵鉤夠下，落到地上，得到紙飛機，點放大紙飛機，再點擊飛機，得到一個六位密碼XxxxxX（此密碼是隨即產(chǎn)生）。 4、用密碼進入藍色的門，進入左邊黃色門，這是一個洗手間，在水管的后面發(fā)現(xiàn)打火機。 5、出門右轉(zhuǎn)上樓（有個箭頭在樓梯欄桿上，不容易發(fā)現(xiàn)），到二樓進入墨綠色的門（這也是一個洗手間），得到手紙盒上的青綠色鑰匙。 6、下樓到剛剛進屋時的界面，點擊向后的箭頭（箭頭指向玩家），打開左側(cè)門（用青綠色鑰匙鑰匙），進入，在茶幾的花瓶里面找到淺灰色鑰匙。 7、用淺灰色鑰匙打開一樓的淺灰色的門。這是回到了剛剛的房間，有一直眼睛從窗簾里面露出，然后進入了那個房間，在枕頭下面發(fā)現(xiàn)一把鑰匙。進入屋子里的另外一個門，這又是一個洗手間（也不知道這一家弄這么多洗手間干嘛？）在水龍頭后面有找到一把黃綠色的鑰匙。出門，此時有人把狗狗的門給打開了（小心被狗狗咬到哦～呵呵） 8、用黃綠色的鑰匙打開一樓黃綠色的門，這是一個廚房。進入左側(cè)房間，用打火機將蠟燭點著，拿出一塊肉，在進入廚房右側(cè)，這時有人把廚房的鎖頭破壞了，出不去了，不過別著急，還有辦法。在廚房的操作臺上拿一個瓶子＆一個盤子。放大盤子，把肉放進去，點擊瓶子（其實是一瓶烈性酒）把酒灑在肉上。待用。點擊右側(cè)的門出去，這是有個狗狗汪汪，把剛剛那盤美味放到狗食盆里面吧，這是哈哈，狗狗可以先好好睡上一覺了…… 9、從右面出去，再次進入電子門，重新輸入六位密碼（在那張紙上呢，不會這面快就忘了吧）上樓，在一樓和二樓的拐角處（左側(cè)拐角）發(fā)現(xiàn)一個粉紅色的鑰匙。去一樓那個兩個把手的棕色門（其實我感覺那個門應該涂上粉紅色，因為這個游戲采用什么顏色鑰匙開什么顏色門的原理。） 10、進入房間，拿一個杯子，到水壺那里盛滿水，待用……進入左面的門，這是一個天井，左面窗臺上有一把深藍色的鑰匙，喝口水，繼續(xù)加油吧。 11、出來到二樓右面，找到藍色的門，打開這扇會給你一個驚喜的門（嘻嘻嘻），一個進鏡頭，一片漆黑，恭喜你，你被打暈了～醒來會發(fā)現(xiàn)物品欄中的物品全部丟失了（Don''t Worry！這是游戲中的一部分） 12、出門點右面箭頭，到客廳去（就是那個兩個把手，本應到是粉紅色的門），進入到天井，會發(fā)現(xiàn)令人驚悚的一幕，一個死人（噢，長的好丑啊……）把他手中的工具箱拿到手，放大，點擊打開。你所有的物品就可以拿回來了，賺了，還多一個工具箱呢！ 13、去那個把你打暈的藍色門房間，用鑰匙打開門，書架上有一本日記，最高的那本，打開自己看看吧。翻到最后一頁時出現(xiàn)密碼18668798，點回主場景點擊左面的窗子，看到對面樓房的煙囪下面了嗎，呵，又是一把鑰匙，橘黃色的鑰匙，先別著急去找橘黃色的門，看看右面還有東西，點擊窗子，到陽臺上又找到了一把土黃色的鑰匙。 14、進入二樓的土黃色門，這好像是個倉庫。在左上方的紅色盒子中拿到電話線，在這個房間對面有一個橘黃色的門，用鑰匙打開這個門，到里面的房間，打開右面的陽臺玻璃門，點擊那個被稱為博士的男人。他躺在床上后說要水，給他說，然后他說要他的重要文件，打開這間房間對面的門，點坐便上面的鏡子，出現(xiàn)保險柜，右側(cè)有一個密碼輸入裝置，輸入密碼18668798，然后墻壁上就出現(xiàn)了一個人形的孔洞。 15、出門（到樓下）右轉(zhuǎn)，在白色柵欄金屬門的樓梯臺階左側(cè)發(fā)現(xiàn)石制人形雕像，撿起后回到博士的房間，盡到剛剛那個洗手間里面把石制人形雕像安裝到那個凹槽里面，把燈關掉，發(fā)現(xiàn)那個鏡子掉下來的地方有不同顏色的光，用相應顏色的鑰匙插到保險柜里面（注意：先記錄好顏色順序，開燈才能插鑰匙），保險柜打開，拿出文件，交給博士。然后他告訴你去報警。 16、去那個灰色門的房間（一樓的）。點擊電話，把電話線接上，這時，你會發(fā)現(xiàn)電話下面有一張證件，這時，終于真相大白了……原來那個博士不是博士，而是盜竊犯，而那個死在一樓天井的才是博士。（這個結(jié)局讓人很不爽，可是你時偵探，探清事情的真相就是你才是你的人物）……完。
前天我再次翻看了泰戈爾的《飛鳥集》，那些曾經(jīng)讓我感動過的句子，現(xiàn)在看來還是那么靈動。
泰戈爾的詩句總是那么清新，給人一種盛夏時，暴雨初晴后的清爽。
《飛鳥集》每篇詩歌都很短小，但是每一個字都用得恰到好處，就如清晨的露珠，一顆顆排列在雜草間，才顯得晶瑩剔透。
書中的第一首詩歌，就讓我有了許多的感觸。
夏天來了，又走了，青春來了，它也即將同我告別。
stray birds of summer come to my window to
sing and fly away.
and yellow leaves of autumn,
which have no songs,
flutter and fall there with a sign.
夏天的飛鳥，來到我的窗前，
歌唱，又飛走了。
秋天的黃葉，
它們沒有什么曲子可唱，
一聲嘆息，飄落在地上。
夏天的飛鳥，它來了，在我的窗前，唱歌，可是沒多久又飛走了，我還沒有聽夠它的歌聲。
就像人的一生，盛夏，熱血，激情，青春，夢想，拼搏，轟轟烈烈也好，尋一良人平平一生也罷，都是一種追求。
可為何你總覺得它來得太遲又走的太快。
今天我很忙，將來，將來還很長，喜歡的書，明天可以看，喜歡的人，明天還有機會。
其實，你錯了，青春是拼搏的青春，是激揚的青春沒錯，但請你看看你的明天，明天的明天，你會發(fā)現(xiàn)永遠都會很忙。
計劃的，永遠那么遙遠，變化卻總是那么無常。
轉(zhuǎn)眼之間，你就看到了飛鳥唱歌的地方，掉了秋葉，它們靜悄悄地飄蕩，掉落，再靜悄悄地歸于塵土。
它們沒有歌可以唱。
時光荏苒，一去不回，你的盛夏過得忙忙碌碌而無華，你的忙碌占去你大把的時間，透支著你漸弱的身體。
熱血嗎？充滿激情嗎？只不過是忙罷了。
它沒有一點華美。
秋天到了，書還在書架上，喜歡的人早已經(jīng)不知是什么模樣。
你只有嘆息一聲，飄落的葉，早已經(jīng)枯黃。
青春走了，如秋日的黃葉，悄然無聲，回頭看，你怎敢在盛夏時，讓它藏于明天，不見天日。
充實，還是碌碌一生，它在于你今日的選擇。
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