该书的主人公霍尔顿是个中学生，出生于富裕的中产阶级家庭。他虽只有16岁，但比常人高一头，整日穿着风衣，戴着猎帽，游游荡荡，不愿读书。他对学校里的一切——老师、同学、功课、球赛等等，全都腻烦透了，曾是学校击剑队队长，3次被学校开除。它不仅生动细致地描绘了一个不安现状的中产阶级子弟的苦闷仿徨、孤独愤世的精神世界，一个青春期少年矛盾百出的心理特征，也批判了成人社会的虚伪和做作。

《麦田里的守望者》是美国作家杰罗姆·大卫·塞林格创作的唯一一部长篇小说，首次出版于1951年。塞林格将故事的起止局限于16岁的中学生霍尔顿·考尔菲德从离开学校到纽约游荡的三天时间内，并借鉴了意识流天马行空的写作方法，充分探索了一个十几岁少年的内心世界。

扩展资料

表现的社会是一个异化的社会，也是一个道德堕落的社会。在这种社会范围内的整体性的堕落中，个体的堕落有可能在表层的堕落之下蕴含着深层的反堕落和道德的信息，有可能具有积极的内涵。霍尔顿以其自身的堕落揭示和反抗着异化社会中道德的堕落。在其堕落中可以窥见某种道德性，他所展示的是堕落行为里的道德，一种堕落的道德。

关于小说的主人公兼叙述者霍尔顿的语言，评论家们众说纷纭、褒贬不一，有些意见还是针锋相对、截然相反的。

小说一面世就引来众怒，一些评论家认为其语言“”、“渎神”。但也不乏有人高度赞赏霍尔顿的语言，国外某些评论家把霍尔顿的语言与马克·吐温笔下人物哈克的语言相提并论，加以赞美。他们认为这两个流浪少年的方言口语，会在文学天地里流芳百世、永放光彩。?

参考资料：

请提供假如给我三天光明，麦田里的守望者，老人与海的原版英文经典语句

因为是散文类文体，所以一些翻译需要重新诠释，附带英文内容我觉得也需要意译而不是直译。举个列子，第二段最后说到的麦田守望者，其实就是那个人想做他们这个国家的守护者或者有用的人才之类。直接翻译成那本名著的名字会让人听不懂。还比如倒数第二段“自然已经习惯了困惑和烦恼”联系上下文，应补充维“自然已经习惯了忽视困惑和烦恼”。

Once I went to the bookstore, a thin one caught my eye from a big stack of world-famous works. It’s The Catcher in the Rye. It hasn’t occurred to me that such a thin work would brought about tremendous affection after I have picked it up. The form, the content, both touched me so much.

The 1950s in the United States is a considerably disordered period of time. The cold war began mixed with unseasoned bloodstain from WWII. On one hand, science and technology developed so rapidly. However, on the other hand, people at that time felt lacking of an ideal and was in low spirits. They were just longing for dragging through their lives, when they realized that the social environment wouldn’t change as they wished. As a result, Beat Generation appeared, and Holden was just one of the members. He abused drugs and alcohol, and had no desire for progress. In spite of that, he wasn’t despicable enough to come down todrug-taking and swarming illegally. Because there was still a beautiful and impracticable wish deeply hidden in the bottom of his heart— To be the catcher in their country.

We live in this nation, with enormous reforms and never-ending changes and improvement during this period of time. In a sense, China today has the reflection of the United States in 1950s. People’s sense of worth is changing, with the social development is stepping. Many people lost their original ideal and passion, marched toward mediocre lifes and became confused and depressed.

We are children in new age, and we has automatically accustomed to ignoring puzzles and troubles. However, what we should do is to concentrate ourselves towards our future and our prospects. We should be a body of callants with high ideal and aspiration. Without Holden’s pure ideal, he would have been depraved himself. He servived himself by his ideal. Ideal is our guide, and we pave to the future and brightness by it. We’ve just started our voyage, so all the confusion and hesitation in our time would be temporary and would soon disappear. All we need now is ideal.

It should be hold that ideal means hope, hope means future, and future is promising!

《麦田里的守望者》：start missing everyone

最喜欢这一段

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

假如给我三天光明(海伦·凯勒 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.

人可以为崇高理想而卑微地活着，这句话出自哪里？

WISH EVERY CHILDREN CAN BE TREATED KINDLY.

寒假的时候看了一本书，叫《麦田里的守望者》，小时候就知道有这么一本书，但不知道讲的是什么，但以为会是那种很温情很温馨的故事。但当我翻开书的第一刻，我发现并不是这样。因为是英文版本，里面很多词我都不认识，查完之后发现很多都是“污言秽语”。但这些都不是重点。

先说说作者塞林格吧，他生于纽约富裕的犹太人家，被父亲送到宾州的一所私立学校，两年后退学又参军。也许是因为他认为这样能让他有别于他“看不惯的人”，他们自私又浅薄，势力又庸俗。那所军事学校成了《麦田里的守望者》中潘西学校的原型。所以都说霍尔顿是塞林格的写照，塞林格身上有霍尔顿的影子。参战后，战争让他害怕，恐惧，但也让他拥有非同寻常的经历。战争给塞林格带来无可挽回的创伤，同时塑造了作家塞林格。他是二战的幸存者，但他不再相信什么英雄主义。他不想回忆不想写战争的惨烈和悲壮。他将战争带给他的、世界的创伤隐匿起来，所以他写的书让读者初读起来以为是成长的痛苦和必经的叛逆青春期。

塞林格写麦田里的守望者时，人们精神生活去贫乏，空虚。有些人粉饰太平，浑浑噩噩；还有些人想要反抗，就像霍尔顿。但他们没有找到光明，他们中有些人也以消极的目光看待世界。书中霍尔顿在酒吧中看到：一个人明明弹琴弹的得像在砸琴，台下却仍有人鼓舞喝彩。他觉得那是多么讽刺的一幕。台下的人也许就是那些浑浑噩噩的人们。

塞林格是个矛盾体，所以他也给予霍尔顿矛盾的思想。霍尔顿说过 “只想成为一个麦田里的守望者”，他想去守护小朋友，让他们免受成长之痛。后来在小说结尾的部分，他又改变了想法，他不想去阻拦马上要从旋转木马上摔下来的妹妹和其他孩子，因为他清楚地意识到——人生就是要经历种种磨难，成长是人生必经的溃烂和创伤，没人能毫发无损地度过一生。也许经历过的所有磨难、跨越的所有困难长大后都会成为宝贵经历和人生财富。

塞林格和霍尔顿都出生于富裕家庭。他们拥有良好的物质生活。所以他们总在思索：如何在物质化的社会中拥有丰富精神生活？他们都无比纠结。《麦田里的守望者》让塞林格一举成名，伴随他的是名声财富还有无止境的烦恼。他选择了隐居。他和霍尔顿的想法“不谋而合”。

霍尔顿的梦想是——

虽然霍尔顿总是厌烦他周围麻烦的人和事，经常破口大骂，愤世嫉俗。事实上，他也不是什么“正人君子”。尽管如此，我们都相信他的心中也有仍有一片金黄麦田，他心中仍存爱和美，希望与光明。他的破口大骂、污言秽语只发生在学校和社会，为了面对那些令人厌烦的事和形形色色的人。当他回到家，面对妹妹菲苾，他是温暖的；当他面对孩子和弱小，他总是想努力保护他们的。

他觉得自己长得那么高，是个大人，可以去帮助别人了。游荡的第二天，霍尔顿上遇到两个修女，他觉得很愧疚，自己从来没有在物质上有过一丝的不丰盈，有时候还选择去浪费。那两个修女衣着简朴，无欲无求，皮箱上打满了补丁。自己盘子里有肉和煎蛋，而修女吃的是简单的一片面包和咖啡，他愧疚又纠结，认为自己那些怜悯的同情心微不足道，修女们不需要，也不屑需要。最终他还是捐了十块钱。

他对妹妹的爱，让他害怕失去，失去勇气。妹妹是她内心最柔软的地方。在游荡的第二天晚上，他在酒吧喝得酩酊大醉，又把头浸入冷水让自己清醒。当走出酒吧后，被冷风一吹，头发结了冰。霍尔顿特别难受，他想到自己也许会得肺炎然后去，永远见不到妹妹菲苾了，于是决定回家。后来，霍尔顿又约菲苾想和她最终告别，菲苾拖着装满衣服的箱子来了，他想和哥哥一起走。霍尔顿始终舍不得菲苾和她受苦，放弃了西部之行的计划。他们去了游乐园，菲苾骑上旋转木马，笑的非常开心，霍尔顿顿时觉得为了妹妹做什么都值得。

这是霍尔顿的老师跟他说的一句话，他苦口婆心地劝导霍尔顿去“循规蹈矩”，但霍尔顿始终就很讨厌潘西学校的球队和球队的比赛，更不用说像打球赛一样按规则生活。他是一个我行我素的人，总是按照自己的意愿生活。

每个人在心底都有那么一件或几件疯狂的、不切实际、不被理解的但又特别想去做事。但常常大多数人都不敢去做。我们有太多的顾虑。然而霍尔顿敢，他敢放下一切，当然他最后还是放不下妹妹菲苾。但他至少尝试过，迈出了勇敢的第一步，也是最艰难的一步。也许就是我们现在说的迈出“舒适圈”。他不再想要家中的帮助，他放弃了唯一真正在乎他的老师的关心。诚然，现实生活中总有太多的羁绊，我们的确不能随心所欲。但我们仍要保留不顾一切的冲劲儿，敢于尝试，敢于放弃，走出“舒适圈”，成为新的自己。

在小说末尾，霍尔顿说自己不舒服，住进了精神病院九月份又要去另一个学校读书。他没什么可说的了，却又开始怀念史曲莱特和艾克莱——曾经最厌恶的人。他改变了自己，让自己经历三天很多人一辈子都不会有的不可多得宝贵经历，接受了身边人的令他讨厌地方，甚至把讨厌变成怀念。因为他一个人的力量太渺小，不论怎样努力、怎样挣扎都无法产生质的改变。他接受了，但并不代表他要成为那样的人。无法决定别人怎样，至少要决定自己怎样。

霍尔顿说：向他人讲述自己的经历会让人思念起每一个擦肩而过的人们，无论曾发生过什么，无论曾多么厌恶彼此。因为每个人的相遇相处都会给予我们一些东西，一些会在生命中熠熠生辉的东西，这些东西会在记忆中留下不可磨灭的痕迹。

reference：

*所有的图都是手写和画的～?

麦田里的守望者/246718?fr=aladdin

麦田里的守望者英文稿

捷罗姆·大卫·塞林格的《麦田守望者》，原句是“成熟的人为了理想卑贱的活着，不成熟的人为理想可能牺牲自己”。这是一本很有争议的小说，客观又深刻地指出了青少年在成长过成中所面临的种种问题，如酗酒、功课压力、精神压抑、性行为等。后来人们流行把鸭嘴帽反戴,正是由于模仿小说里面的主人公霍尔顿·考尔菲德。

英文名著中的经典句子

Wheat field towerman全文

参考资料：

你自己去试一试吧 !!!

他们都说是,去吧!!!

《麦田里的守望者》

1．记住该记住的，忘记该忘记的。改变能改变的，接受不能改变的.

Remember what should be remembered, and forget what should be forgotten.Alter what is changeable, and accept what is mutable.

2．能冲刷一切的除了眼泪，就是时间，以时间来推移感情，时间越长，冲突越淡，仿佛不断稀释的茶.

Apart from tears, only time could wear everything away. While feeling is being processed by time, conflicts would be reconciled as time goes by, just like a cup of tea that is being continuously diluted.

3．怨言是上天得至人类最大的供物，也是人类祷告中最真诚的部分.

Complaints are the greatest offerings that God obtains from human beings, as well as the most faithful prayers human beings might utter to God.

4．智慧的代价是矛盾。这是人生对人生观开的玩笑。

Wisdom appears in contradiction to itself, which is a trick life plays on philosophy of life.

5．也许有些人很可恶，有些人很卑鄙。而当我设身为他想象的时候，我才知道：他比我还可怜。所以请原谅所有你见过的人，好人或者坏人.

Some may be wicked, and some may be despicable. Only when I put myself in their position did I know they are more miserable than I. So forgive all that you have met, no matter what kind of persons they are.

6．鱼对水说你看不到我的眼泪，因为我在水里．水说我能感觉到你的眼泪，因为你在我心里。

"You couldn't see my tears cause I am in the water." Fish said to water.

"But I could feel your tears cause you are in me." Answered water.

7.快乐要有悲伤作陪，雨过应该就有天晴。如果雨后还是雨，如果忧伤之后还是忧伤．请让我们从容面对这离别之后的离别。 微笑地去寻找一个不可能出现的你！

Happiness is accompanied by sorrow, and it would turn sunny after rain as well. If rain remains after rain and sorrow remains after sorrow, please take those farewells easy, and turn to smilingly look for yourself who is never to appear.

8．亡教会人一切，如同考试之后公布的结果？虽然恍然大悟，但为时晚矣！

Like the outcome after an exam, death makes us aware of anything, That is, it's too late to take a tumble.

9．你出生的时候，你哭着，周围的人笑着；你逝去的时候，你笑着，而周围的人在哭！

When you were born, you're crying but lookers-on were smiling. When you are passing away, you're smiling but lookers-on are crying.

10.于千万人之中，遇见你所遇见的人；于千万年之中，时间的无涯荒野里，没有早一步，也没有晚一步，刚巧赶上了.

Among thousands of people, you meet those you've met. Through thousands of years, with the boundlessness of time, you happen to meet them, neither earlier nor a bit too late.

11．每个人都有潜在的能量，只是很容易:被习惯所掩盖，被时间所迷离,被惰性所消磨.

Everyone has his inherent ability( power or capacity?) which is easily concealed by habbits, blurred by time, and eroded by laziness( or inertia).

12．人生短短几十年，不要给自己留下了什么遗憾，想笑就笑，想哭就哭，该爱的时候就去爱，无谓压抑自己.

Be sure that you have never had any regrets in your life which only lasts for a few decades. Laugh or cry as you like, and it's meaningless to oppress yourself.

13．真正的爱情是不讲究热闹不讲究排场不讲究繁华更不讲究嚎头的.

A true love is what doesn't strive for busyness, for extravagance, for luxury, and moreover for hokum.

14．我们确实活得艰难，一要承受种种外部的压力，更要面对自己内心的困惑。在苦苦挣扎中，如果有人向你投以理解的目光，你会感到一种生命的暖意，或许仅有短暂的一瞥，就足以使我感奋不已。

It's true that we have been leading a difficult life, for we need not only to be under various external pressures, but also to be in the face of internal perplexities.You would be affected by the warmth of life if someone gives you a understanding look during your bitter struggle.Even a mere glance would make you moved and inpired.

谢谢，希望对你有帮助。