学习啦【英语文摘】 编辑：韦彦 发布时间：2016-08-30
The lion is majestic.
One can admire it, fear it, chase it, conquer it.
Gabrielle Chanel decided to tame it.
The lion is Coco.
Born August 19th under the fifth sign of the zodiac.
The two numbers would become her good luck charm.
The lion would be her constellation.
The lion is a personality.
Audacious, instinctive, passionate, radiant.
I’m a Leo and like him.
“I show my claws to protect myself”, Mademoiselle declared,
“But believe me, I suffer more by clawing than being clawed” She added.
The lion is an inspiration,
A favorite subject of Chanel jewelry.
It roars from necklaces, pendants and brooches,
As if to protect the secrets of Mademoiselle, and watch over her for all eternity.
The lion, is the spirit of Chanel.
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time tolive.
Sometimes it was as long as a year, sometimes as short as 24 hours.
But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed hero chose to spend hislast days or his last hours.
I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere ofactivities 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 asmortal beings, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should dietomorrow.
Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life.
We should live each day with gentleness, vigor and a keenness of appreciation which areoften lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and monthsand years to come.
There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of “Eat, drink, and bemerry”.
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, butalmost always his sense of values is changed.
He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values.
It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring amellow 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 useof these blessed faculties.
Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with littleappreciation.
It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not beingconscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaffor a few days at some time during his early adult life.
Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight, silence would teach him the joys ofsound.
I like for you to be still, it is as though you are absent.
And you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away, and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul, you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dreams, and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you are lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you.
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence, that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still, it is as though you are absent, distant and full of sorrow, as thoughyou had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I'm happy, happy that it's not true.