几段我特喜欢的旁白
The river belonged to us, and we to it, like a cathedral no hand of man could ever build. This is as close as a sinner like me will ever come to the face of God.
精彩的法庭戏：
Young blood does not obey an old decree. We cannot cross the cause why we were born. Let us lose our oaths to find ourselves, or we will lose ourselves to keep our oaths.
From Shakespeare Love's Labour's Lost
表白段，对于自然与文学的深厚知识都是为了把女人搞到手的么……
-A smaller man could never hold your interest. As I am, I adore you.
-How well you show it.
-What would you have me do, hmm? What would you have me do? To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, to throw perfume on the violet, to add another hue into the rainbow? Wasteful and ridiculous, excess.
I, Ward Allen, may have been wrong. Before you check to see if the fire of hell has been turned to ice, let me emphasize that I would do, or have done, nothing different in my life. But it seems that perhaps our world met a fork in the road, and the world took one path, and I took the other. Perhaps this is an inevitable result, and each of us are doomed to find ourselves on a path alone in the end, especially those of us who find the world as it was to be a close to perfect place. Those who accepted that the affairs of men are like those of a river, where time and tide are the ultimate shapers of a life, where procreation, migration and even death are spokes of the same wheel, that turns in heaven's vault just the way it should. But there are others who are determined to reshape that wheel and turn back the tide, and they appear ready to do it. Maybe they are right, representing as they do, an impulse in the breast of man that drives our species toward restless industry. Maybe we are here to remake everything, reshape everything, create our new idea of perfection, and leave God's idea to the dim shades of history. And maybe I, having fought against that new idea, rejected that idea, found that idea abhorrent, maybe I was wrong. But I do not think so. Because I believe if we have grown as a species, it has been because of the test of wildness, and if we succeed in remaking wildness into mildness, then we will begin to diminish. But all I have accomplished, is a broken knuckle or two, and hurting myself and my own more than those who are the target of my calumny. So perhaps I'd do better to take my pokes on these pages and take direction from the Bard "Let there be gall enough in thy ink". It's worth a try.
最后这段太感动了……
I've written dozens of articles on shooting and twice more than that lambasting the damn fool game laws. I probably know more quotes from English letters than any man, save an Oxford don. I can tell you the name, use, colour and disposition of a dozen type of feathers, and at least that many species of waterfowl. I have a collection of Confederate money I saved myself, beginning before the war ended, and a lifetime of practical experience, having virtually no value in the world today. 50 years on the river I love, and the damn thing has washed me up on the bank of a city I no longer recognize, inhabited by people I don't remember inviting here. All those arguments won, and now it seems I've misplaced my winnings. So be it. This is where I pulled my skiff.
The important thing about a man's death is how it reflects his life, if it was on his own terms and if there was some meaning in it.
精彩的法庭戏：
Young blood does not obey an old decree. We cannot cross the cause why we were born. Let us lose our oaths to find ourselves, or we will lose ourselves to keep our oaths.
From Shakespeare Love's Labour's Lost
表白段，对于自然与文学的深厚知识都是为了把女人搞到手的么……
-A smaller man could never hold your interest. As I am, I adore you.
-How well you show it.
-What would you have me do, hmm? What would you have me do? To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, to throw perfume on the violet, to add another hue into the rainbow? Wasteful and ridiculous, excess.
I, Ward Allen, may have been wrong. Before you check to see if the fire of hell has been turned to ice, let me emphasize that I would do, or have done, nothing different in my life. But it seems that perhaps our world met a fork in the road, and the world took one path, and I took the other. Perhaps this is an inevitable result, and each of us are doomed to find ourselves on a path alone in the end, especially those of us who find the world as it was to be a close to perfect place. Those who accepted that the affairs of men are like those of a river, where time and tide are the ultimate shapers of a life, where procreation, migration and even death are spokes of the same wheel, that turns in heaven's vault just the way it should. But there are others who are determined to reshape that wheel and turn back the tide, and they appear ready to do it. Maybe they are right, representing as they do, an impulse in the breast of man that drives our species toward restless industry. Maybe we are here to remake everything, reshape everything, create our new idea of perfection, and leave God's idea to the dim shades of history. And maybe I, having fought against that new idea, rejected that idea, found that idea abhorrent, maybe I was wrong. But I do not think so. Because I believe if we have grown as a species, it has been because of the test of wildness, and if we succeed in remaking wildness into mildness, then we will begin to diminish. But all I have accomplished, is a broken knuckle or two, and hurting myself and my own more than those who are the target of my calumny. So perhaps I'd do better to take my pokes on these pages and take direction from the Bard "Let there be gall enough in thy ink". It's worth a try.
最后这段太感动了……
I've written dozens of articles on shooting and twice more than that lambasting the damn fool game laws. I probably know more quotes from English letters than any man, save an Oxford don. I can tell you the name, use, colour and disposition of a dozen type of feathers, and at least that many species of waterfowl. I have a collection of Confederate money I saved myself, beginning before the war ended, and a lifetime of practical experience, having virtually no value in the world today. 50 years on the river I love, and the damn thing has washed me up on the bank of a city I no longer recognize, inhabited by people I don't remember inviting here. All those arguments won, and now it seems I've misplaced my winnings. So be it. This is where I pulled my skiff.
The important thing about a man's death is how it reflects his life, if it was on his own terms and if there was some meaning in it.
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