Requesting the Chinese language text "Loneliness" for high school students in Shanghai

It is a pleasant evening. There is only one feeling in the whole body, and every pore is soaked with joy. I came and went with a strange freedom in nature, becoming a part of herself. Wearing only my shirt, I walked along the rocky shore. Although the weather was cold, cloudy and windy, I had no particular distractions. The weather was unusually suitable for me at that time. Bullfrogs croak, inviting the night, and the note of nighthawks rides on the rippling wind from the lake. The swaying alders and poplars stirred up such emotion in me that I could hardly breathe; yet like the lake, my tranquility had only ripples and no stirrings. Just like the mirror-like surface of the lake, the microwaves blown by the evening breeze cannot be called a storm. Although it is dark, the wind is still blowing and roaring in the forest, the waves are still crashing on the shore, and some animals are still hypnotizing others with their music. Silence cannot be absolute. The most ferocious beasts have no peace, and are now looking for their victims; foxes, skunks, and rabbits are also roaming in the wilderness, in the forest, but they have no fear, they are the guardians of nature, - they are the connection. A chain of vibrant days. When I got home, I found that visitors had already arrived, and they had left their business cards, either a bouquet of flowers, a wreath of evergreens, or a name written in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or piece of wood. People who don't often go into the forest often play with the little things in the forest along the way, sometimes deliberately, sometimes accidentally, leaving them behind. One peeled off the bark of a willow tree, made it into a ring, and dropped it on my table. When I go out, I can always tell if there are any guests. Either branches or grass are bent down, or there are shoe prints. Generally speaking, I can guess their age and gender from the tiny marks they leave. and character; some dropped the flowers, some grabbed a handful of grass and threw it away, and some even took it to the railroad half a mile away before throwing it away; sometimes the smell of cigar or pipe still lingered. scattered. Often I could detect by the scent of my pipe a traveler passing on the road sixty rods away.

The space around us should be said to be very large. We cannot touch the horizon as soon as we reach out. The lush forest or lake is not just at my door. There is always an open space in the middle that we are familiar with and used by us. It has been sorted to some extent and fenced. It seems to have been wrested from the hands of nature. Obtained. For what reason should I have so much scope and scale, so many square miles of untouched forest, abandoned by man for my own use? My nearest neighbor was a mile away, and there were no houses in sight, except by climbing to the top of a hill half a mile away. My horizon is entirely surrounded by forest, reserved exclusively for my own enjoyment. As far as the eye can see, I can only see the railway passing by at one end of the lake and the fence beside the road along the mountain forest at the other end of the lake. Generally speaking, where I live is as lonely as living on the prairie. It was as far away from New England as it was from Asia and Africa. It can be said that I have my own sun, moon and stars, and I have a small world that is completely my own. No one ever passes my house or knocks at my door at night, as if I were the first or the last human being, unless in the spring, after a long interval, someone comes from the village to fish for dolphins. The fish--in Walden Pond it was evident that all they could catch were their own varied characters, and the hook could only reach the night--they were all removed at once, often in very light creels. The earth retreated, leaving "the world to the night and me", and the core of the night has never been polluted by any human neighbor. I believe that people are generally a little afraid of the dark, even though the witches have been hanged and Christianity and candlelight have been introduced.

Yet I have sometimes experienced that in any thing of nature there are to be found the sweetest and gentlest, the most innocent and encouraging companions, even to the cynical poor and the most melancholy. So do people. As long as one lives among nature and still has five senses, it is impossible to have very gloomy worries. To the sound and innocent ear, storms are indeed the music of Aeolus. Nothing can justly compel simple and brave men to vulgar sentimentality. When I enjoy the friendship of the four seasons, I believe that nothing can make life a heavy burden for me. The good rain sprinkled on my beans today and kept me indoors all day. The rain neither made me depressed nor depressed. It was very good for me. Although it prevents me from hoeing, it is more valuable than my hoeing.

If it rains for too long and causes the seeds in the ground and the potatoes in the lowlands to rot, it will still be good for the grass in the highlands. Since it is good for the grass in the highlands, it is also good for me. Sometimes, I compare myself with others, as if I am more favored by the gods than others, and seem to have more than I deserve; as if I have a certificate and insurance policy in their hands, but others do not, so I am criticized. special guidance and protection. I don't claim to praise myself, but if possible, they praise me. I never felt lonely, and I was not at all oppressed by the feeling of loneliness. Only once, after I had been in the forest for a few weeks, I doubted for an hour whether a quiet and healthy life should have some close neighbors. Being alone did not seem very pleasant. . At the same time, I felt that my mood was a little abnormal, but I seemed to predict that I would return to normal. When these thoughts occupied me, the gentle raindrops drifted down, and I suddenly felt that I was so blessed to be in the company of nature. In the sound of the dripping rain, every sound around my house There is boundless friendship with the scene. Suddenly this supportive atmosphere suppressed my thought that it would be more convenient to have neighbors. From then on, I never thought about neighbors again. Each little pine needle swelled compassionately and became my friend. I clearly feel that my kind exists here. Although I am in what is generally called a miserable and desolate situation, the person who is closest to my bloodline and the most humane is not a person or a villager. From now on, I will never see anyone again. There will be no place that feels strange to me.

"Unbecoming lamentation consumes sorrow;

In the land of the living, their days are short,

Toskar's beautiful My daughter."

Some of my happiest times were during the long storms in spring and autumn, which kept me indoors for mornings and afternoons, with only the constant rain and roaring to comfort me. ;I have risen from the twilight morning into the long dusk, during which many ideas have taken root and developed themselves. In the heavy downpour from the northeast, all the houses in the village were tested. The maids had already brought buckets and mops to stop the flood from entering at the gate. I sat behind the door of my small house, and there was only this one door, but I appreciate the protection it gives me. During a thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning struck a pine tree on the other side of the lake. From top to bottom, it drew a deep spiral groove that was one inch, or more than one inch deep, and four or five inches wide. Just like the grooves you carve into a cane. I passed it again that day. When I looked up and saw this trace, I was really amazed. It was the trace left by a terrible and irresistible thunder eight years ago, but now it is clearer than before. People often say to me, "I think you must be very lonely living there, and you always want to be close to people, especially on rainy and snowy days and nights." My throat felt so itchy that I wanted to reply like this, ——The entire earth we live on is just a small dot in the universe. There is a star over there. Our astronomical instruments cannot yet measure how big it is. Think about how far apart the two farthest residents on it are? How could I feel lonely? Isn't our Earth in the Milky Way? It seems to me that you are asking the least important question. What kind of space can separate people from the crowd and make people feel lonely? I have discovered that no matter how hard two legs try, they cannot bring two hearts closer. Who would we most like to live next to? People do not all like the station, the post office, the bar, the meeting place, the school, the grocery store, the Beacon Hill, or the Five Points District. Although people often gather there, people are more willing to be close to the insecurities of life. In our experience, we often feel that there is such a need for nature, which is the source of exhaustion. It is like a willow by the water, which must extend its roots in the direction of water. People have different personalities, so their needs are also very different, but a wise man must dig his cellar in the inexhaustible source of nature... One night on the way to Walden Pond, I caught up with a fellow citizen , he had accumulated what he called "a very considerable fortune", although I never got a good look at it. That night he was driving a pair of cows to market, and he asked me how I came up with it. Would you rather give up so much of the joy of life? I replied that I was sure I liked my life; I wasn't kidding.

So I went home, went to bed, and left him to walk in the night mud to Brighton—or, rather, to the City of Light—probably not until daybreak.

To a dead person, any vision of awakening or resurrection renders all time and place insignificant. Wherever this may occur, there is indescribable joy to our senses. But most of us only let superficial and temporary things become the work we do. In fact, these are the things that distract us. The closest thing to all things is the force that created them all. Secondly, the laws of the universe close to us are constantly acting. Next, what is close to us is not the craftsmen we hire, although we love to talk to them, but the great craftsman, whose creation we ourselves are.

"Gods and ghosts are virtues, and they are extremely prosperous."

"Look at them without seeing them, listen at them without hearing them, and remember things without leaving them behind."

"Let the people of the world fast and wear fine clothes in order to carry out sacrifices, as if they are above them, as if they are around them.

We are the material of an experiment, but I am not interested in this experiment Very interested. Under such circumstances, can't we leave our society full of right and wrong for a while - just let our own thoughts inspire us? Confucius said well, "Virtue is not alone, there must be neighbors." . ”

With thought we can, in our waking state, rejoice. With conscious effort of our minds we can rise high above any action and its consequences; all good things Bad things, like rushing water, pass by us. We are not entirely entangled in nature. I can be a piece of driftwood in the rapids, or I can be Indra watching the world from the sky. It may very well move me; on the other hand, events that are more important to my life may not move me. I only know that I exist as a person; it can be said that I am a stage that reflects my thoughts and feelings. , I have a somewhat dual personality, so I can see myself from a distance as I see others. No matter how intense the experience I have, I am always aware of a part of me that is criticizing me from the side, as if it is not a part of me, but just a part of me. A bystander does not share my experience, but notices it: just as he is not you, he cannot be me. When the drama of life is over, it is likely that there will be a tragedy, and the audience will leave on their own. The second personality is of course fictitious, just a creation of imagination, but sometimes this dual personality makes it difficult for others to be neighbors and make friends with us.

Most of the time, I think. Loneliness is good for your health. Even the best of companions will soon get tired of you and make you miserable. I love being alone and I have never met a better companion than loneliness. Being in a crowd is probably more lonely than being alone in a room. A person who is thinking and working is always alone. Let him be where he likes. Loneliness cannot be measured by a person's distance from his companions. To calculate. The truly studious student is as lonely as a dervish in the desert in the most crowded hive of Cambridge College. The farmer can work alone in the fields, plowing or cutting trees all day long. , but he doesn’t feel lonely, because he has a job; but at night, when he returns home, he cannot meditate alone indoors, but must go to a place where “he can see people there” to relax and use his thoughts to It was to compensate for his loneliness for the day; so he wondered why the students could sit indoors all day and night without feeling bored and "melancholy"; but he did not understand that although the students were indoors, they were working on his fields. After logging in his forest, just like a farmer in a field or forest, students also need to find entertainment and socialize, although the form may be more condensed.

Social time is often cheap. It was too short a time for us to gain anything new and valuable from each other. We met for three meals a day, and we all had to agree on a few rules to get a taste of our stale cheese.

It is the so-called etiquette and politeness that makes these frequent gatherings peaceful and avoids public quarrels and red faces. We meet in the post office, in social places, and by the fire every night; we live well. It was too crowded, interfering with each other, and hindered each other, so I think there was a lack of respect for each other. Of course, for all important and passionate gatherings, a smaller number would be enough. Think of a female worker in a factory - she can never live alone, or even dream of being alone.

It would be much better if there was only one person living a mile, like here I am. A person's value is not in his skin, so we don't need to touch the skin.

I once heard of a man who was lost in the forest and fell under a tree. He was hungry and exhausted. Due to his lack of physical strength, his sick imagination allowed him to see many things around him. Strange visions, he thought they were all real. Similarly, when the body and soul are healthy and strong, we can continue to be inspired by a similar, but more normal and natural society, and thus find that we are not lonely.

I have many companions in my house; especially in the morning when no one has come to visit me yet. Let me give you a few metaphors that may convey some of my situation. I am no more lonely than the laughing loon in the lake, and I am no more lonely than Walden Pond. I would like to ask who keeps company in this lonely lake? However, on its blue water waves, there are not blue devils, but blue angels. The sun is lonely unless the sky is full of dark clouds. Sometimes it is like there are two suns, but that one is fake. God is alone,—but the devil is never alone; he sees many companions; he makes gangs. I am no more lonely than a mullein or a dandelion in a meadow. I am no more lonely than a bean leaf or a sprig of sorrel or a horsefly or a bumblebee. I am no more lonely than the Mill Brook, or a weathercock, or the North Star, or the south wind, or the April rain, or the melting snow of January, or the first spider in a new house.

During the long winter nights, when the snow was blowing wildly and the wind was howling in the forest, an old immigrant, the original owner, came to visit me from time to time. It is said that he dug out Walden Pond and paved it. He planted pebbles and planted pine trees along the lake; he told me eternal stories of old times and new times; and thus we spent a pleasant evening, full of the joy of society, exchanging pleasant opinions on things, although there were no apples. Or Cider,—this most clever and humorous friend, I really like him, he knows more secrets than Cuffy or Wallet; although they say he is dead, no one has pointed out where his tomb is. where. There is also an old lady who lives near me. Most people can't see her at all, but sometimes I am happy to go for a walk in her fragrant herb garden, collect herbs, and listen to her fables; because she has Incomparably rich in creativity, her memory stretched back to pre-mythological times, and she could tell me the origin of every fable, and which fable was based on which fact, because these events all happened in her youth. when. A rosy, strong old lady, she was always in high spirits no matter what the weather or the season, and looked like she would outlive her children.

The sun, wind and rain, summer, winter, - the indescribable purity and grace of nature, they always provide so much health, so much joy! With such sympathy for us humans, if anyone grieves for the right reasons, then nature will be moved, the sun dims, the wind laments like a living person, the clouds shed tears, and the trees shed their leaves in midsummer and wear mourning clothes. . Shouldn’t I be closely connected to the land? Aren’t I myself part of the mud of green leaves and vegetables?

What medicine makes us healthy, peaceful and content? Not your great-grandfather or mine, but that of our great-grandmother Nature, the vegetable and vegetable tonic of the universe, by which she herself remained forever young and outlived Thomas Pyle, with their The decaying fat added to her health. Not the charlatan's mixture of Styx water and Dead Sea water in one of those long, black, boat-shaped bottles we sometimes see bottled in. That's not my panacea. : Let me take a sip of pure dawn air. O dawn air! If people are not willing to drink from the spring at the daily source, then, oh, we must put them in bottles and put them in stores and sell them to those in the world who have lost their Dawn reservation tickets. But remember, it can be kept refrigerated in the cellar until noon, but the cork must be uncorked long before then and follow the footsteps of the dawn westward. I do not worship the goddess of health. She is the daughter of Aesculapis, the ancient herbalist. On the monument, she holds a snake in one hand and a cup in the other hand, and the snake often drinks water in the cup; I would rather worship Jupiter's cupbearer, Hippo, the goddess of youth, drinker of wine for the gods, daughter of Juno and wild lettuce, who can rejuvenate gods and men.

She was perhaps the healthiest, strongest, and best-bodied girl that had ever walked the face of the earth, and wherever she went, it was spring.