是一个都市的夜，一个殖民地的夜，一个五月的夜。 恬静的微风，从海上吹来，踏过荡荡的水面；在江边的大厦上，飘拂着那些旗帜：那些三色旗，那些星条旗，那些太阳旗，还有那些大英帝国的旗帜。 这些风，这些淡淡的含着咸性的风，也飘拂在那些酒醉的异国水手的大裤脚上，他们正从酒吧间、舞厅里出来，在静的柏油路上蹒跚着大步，倘徉归去。
“妇女”这两个字，将在什么时代才不被重视，不需要特别的被提出呢？ 年年都有这一天。每年在这一天的时候，几乎是全世界的地方都开着会，检阅着她们的队伍。延安虽说这两年不如前年热闹，但似乎总有几个人在那里忙着。而且一定有大会，有演说的，有通电，有文章发表。延安的妇女是比中国其它地方的妇女幸福的。甚至有很多人都在嫉羡的说：“为什么小米把女同志吃得那么红胖？”
They look so dull and dowdy in the spring weather, when the snow drops and the crocuses are putting on their dainty frocks of white and mauve and yellow, and the baby-buds from every branch are peeping with bright eyes out on the world, and stretching forth soft little leaves toward the coming gladness of their lives. They stand apart, so cold and hard amid the stirring hope and joy that are throbbing all around them.
The most extraordinary dream I ever had was one in which I fancied that, as I was going into a theater, the cloak-room attendant stopped me in the lobby and insisted on my leaving my legs behind me. I was not surprised; indeed, my acquaintanceship with theater harpies would prevent my feeling any surprise at such a demand, even in my waking moments; but I was, I must honestly confess, considerably annoyed.
There are two kinds of clocks. There is the clock that is always wrong, and that knows it is wrong, and glories in it; and there is the clock that is always right—except when you rely upon it, and then it is more wrong than you would think a clock could be in a civilized country. I remember a clock of this latter type, that we had in the house when I was a boy, routing us all up at three o'clock one winter's morning.
The Cost of Kindness（善良的代价） 立即阅读
"Kindness," argued little Mrs. Pennycoop, "costs nothing." "And, speaking generally, my dear, is valued precisely at cost price," retorted Mr. Pennycoop, who, as an auctioneer of twenty years' experience, had enjoyed much opportunity of testing the attitude of the public towards sentiment. "I don't care what you say, George," persisted his wife; "he may be a disagreeable, cantankerous old brute—I don't say he isn't. All the same, the man is going away, and we may never see him again."
春风轻轻地吹过南国大地，树儿长出绿叶，花儿竞相绽放，湖水泛起波纹，天空蓝蓝，白云飘飘，阳光明媚，洒向人间，整个世界和暖而明亮。冬日的南国，不时落下潇潇冷雨，冬风吹过，一阵寒冷迎面扑来。那些行色匆匆的女子，也不禁裹紧外套。冬日不是不好，景色也很美，冰条挂满枝头，全世界耀眼的白。雨，随风潜入夜，润物细无声。而我觉得，春风是有生命的，一滴、两滴，轻轻地落在叶子上，让叶子散发出翠绿的光泽。
那年日本军在广西南宁登陆，向北攻陷宾阳。浙江大学正在宾阳附近的宜山，学生、教师扶老携幼，仓皇向贵州逃命。道路崎岖，交通阻塞。大家吃尽千辛万苦，才到得安全地带。 我正是其中之一人，带了从一岁到七十二岁的眷属十人，和行李十余件，好容易来到遵义。看见比我早到的浙大同事某君，他幽默地说：“听说你这次逃难很是‘艺术的’？”我不禁失笑，因为我这次逃难，的确受艺术的帮忙。 那时...
前天晚上，我九点钟就寝后，好像有什么求之不得似的只管辗转反侧，不能入睡。到了十二点钟模样，我假定已经睡过一夜，现在天亮了，正式地披衣下床，到案头来续写一篇将了未了的文稿。写到二点半钟，文稿居然写完了，但觉非常疲劳。 就再假定已经度过一天，现在天夜了，再卸衣就寝。躺下身子就酣睡。 次日早晨还在酣睡的时候，听得耳边有人对我说话：“ Z先生来了！ Z先生来了！”是我...