海外逸士
会员等级:7
加入时间: 2005/11/08 文章: 1956 来自: America 积分: 10755
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Time is a never-fatigued traveler proceeding on his endless journey. He goes second by second, slowly but steadily to the Eternity, never halting for a rest. He brings everything to decay in due season, however enduring the thing may be. Even celestial globes will cease to be, our earth among them, for it is but a globe,too,in the universe, let alone a poor living creature. The human life is short at best. If we look from the height of Eternity at the human lives below that come into being and then pass out of existence, they seem to us like flash of sparks that appear and vanish in a moment. To a certain individual life is granted but once. Therefore, we must make the most use of every minute, and the waste of time is the waste of life, for time is life.
Then in what way should one spend one's time, or rather, one's life? Someone fools it away, walking in the streets and looking at the shopwindows all day long; someone loses it in a fight for nothing; someone gives it up to dissipation and merry-making; while others devote theirs for the benefit of their motherland and the mankind in the field of science, art or literature, etc.
In my early boyhood I began the reading of the novels like the Red Chamber Dream and all that. Books became my daily companions, and also the daily nourishment for my mind. My reading field was widened with the years. Classics and poetry were like tough meat for me in my teens, but I chewed them with perseverance and devoured them one by one. Every book I read seemed to open for me a new window through which I could peep into the magnificently decorated rooms in the grand palace of Muses. My young heart leaped with the thrill of joy at the beauties of literature. I decided then that literature should be my career. |
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