Conversation is the most sociable of all human activities

Conversation is the most sociable of all human activities. And it is an activity only of humans. However intricate the ways in which animals communicate with each other, they do not indulge in anything that deserves the name of conversation.

The charm of conversation is that it does not really start from anywhere, and no one has any idea where it will go as it meanders or leaps and sparkles or just glows. The enemy of good conversation is the person who has \"something to say.\" Conversation is not for making a point. Argument may often be a part of it, but the purpose of the argument is not to convince. There is no winning in conversation. In fact, the best conversationalists are those who are prepared to lose. Suddenly they see the moment for one of their best anecdotes, but in a flash the conversation has moved on and the opportunity is lost. They are ready to let it go.

Perhaps it is because of my up-bringing in English pubs that I think bar conversation has a charm of its own. Bar friends are not deeply involved in each other's lives. They are companions, not intimates. The fact that their marriages may be on the rooks, or that their love affairs have been broken or even that they got out of bed on the wrong side is simply not a concern. They are like the musketeers of Dumas who, although they lived side by side with each other, did not delve into,each other's lives or the recesses of their thoughts and feelings.

人类的一切活动中，只有闲谈最宜于增进友谊，而且是人类特有的一种活动。动物之间的信息交流，不论其方式何等复杂，也是称不上交谈的。

闲谈的引人入胜之处就在于它没有一个事先定好的话题。它时而迂回流淌，时而奔腾起

伏，时而火花四射，时而热情洋溢，话题最终会扯到什么地方谁也拿不准。要是有人觉得“有些话要说”，那定会大煞风景，使闲聊无趣。闲聊不是为了争论，闲聊中常常会有争论不过其目的不是为了说服对方。闲聊之中是不存在什么输赢胜负的。事实上，真正善于闲聊的人往往是随时准备让步的。也许他们偶然间会觉得该把自己最得意的奇闻选出一件插进来讲一讲。但一转眼大家已经谈到别处去了，插话的机会随之而失，他们也就听之任之。

或许是因为我从小就混迹于英国小酒馆的缘故吧，我觉得酒馆里的闲聊别有韵味。酒馆里的朋友对别人的生活毫无了解，他们只是临时凑到一起来的，彼此并无深交。他们之中也许有人面临婚姻破裂，或恋爱失败，或碰到别的什么不顺心的事儿，但别人根本不管这些，他们就像大仲马笔下的三个火枪手一样，虽然日夕相处，却从不过问别人的私事，也不去揣摩别人内心的秘密。

I was just passing the coppersmiths' booths when somebody noticed that I was lighting a cigarette. Instantly, from the dark holes all round, there was a frenzied rush of Jews, many of them old grandfathers with flowing grey beards, all clamouring for a cigarette. Even a blind man somewhere at the back of one of the booths heard a rumour of cigarettes and came crawling out, groping in the air with his hand. In about a minute I had used up the whole packet. None of these people, I suppose, works less than twelve hours a day, and every one of them looks on a cigarette as a more or less impossible luxury.

我正要走过一个铜匠铺子时，突然有人发现我点着一支香。这一下子那些犹太人从四面八方的一个黑洞窟里发疯似得围上来，其中有很多白胡子老汉，都吵着要讨只烟。甚至连一个盲人听到这讨烟的叫嚷声也从一个摊棚后面爬出来。伸手在空中乱摸。一分钟光景，我那一包香烟全分完了。我想这些人一天的工时都不会少于12个小时，可是他们个个都把香烟

看成是一件非常难得的奢侈品。

Nature’s pleasures are much qualified in New York. You never see a star-filled sky; the city’s bright glow arrogantly obscures the heavens. Sunsets can be spectacular: oranges and reds tinting the sky over the Jersey meadows and gaudily reflected in a thousand windows on Manhattan’s jagged skyline. Nature constantly yields to man in New York: witness those fragile sidewalk trees gamely struggling against encroaching cement and petrol fumes. Central Park, which Frederick Law Olmsted designed as lungs for the city’s poor, is in places grassless and filled with trash, no longer pristine yet lively with the noise and vivacity of people, largely youths, blacks, and Puerto Ricans, enjoying themselves. On park benches sit older people, mostly white, looking displaced. It has become less a tranquil park than an untidy carnival.

在纽约所能欣赏到的自然美景非常有限。你从来看不到一片繁星点点的夜空，城里的万家灯火相交辉映得使天空黯然失色。唯有日落时分的景色尚可谓壮观：泽西市草地上的天空染上了一块块深浅不一的橙红色，在曼哈顿那些高高矮矮、大大小小的建筑物上的万千扇玻璃窗的反射下，更显得绚丽多彩。大自然对纽约人总是低头服输。只需看看人行道上那些脆弱的树木四面进逼的水泥路面和阵阵袭来的石油烟气拼命挣扎的样子，就足以说明问题了。由费德里克设计的纽约中央公园本应是城市贫民休养身体、呼吸新鲜空气的场所，但如今园内有些地方寸草不生，垃圾遍地，无复当年的清新质朴之气。然而依旧人声嘈杂，生意盎然，许多人多数为年轻人、黑人和波多黎各人，仍在其间自得其乐。公园中的长条椅上则坐着一些上了年纪的人，其中以白人居多，看样子都是一些流离失所的人。这里已经不是什么静造的公园了，倒更像是一个乱哄哄的狂欢场所。

Beautiful she was. She was not yet of pin-up proportions, but I felt that time would supply the lack. She already had the makings.

Gracious she was. By gracious I mean full of graces. She had an erectness of carriage, an ease of bearing, a poise that clearly indicated the best of breeding. At table her manners were exquisite. I had seen her at the Kozy Kampus Korner eating the specialty of the house - a sandwich that contained scraps of pot roast, gravy, chopped nuts, and a dipper of sauerkraut - without even getting her fingers moist.

Intelligent she was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction. But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up. At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easier to make a beautiful dumb girl smart than to make an ugly smart girl beautiful.

她漂亮。尽管她的身材还没有挂在墙上的美女照片那么面条，但我相信时间会弥补这个不足。他已经大致不差了。

她温文尔雅-我这里是指她很有风度。她亭亭玉立，落落大方，泰然自若，一眼就看得出她很有教养。她进餐时，动作还是那么优美。我曾看见过她在舒适的校园之角吃名点，一块夹有几片带汁的纯肉和碎核桃仁的三明治，还有一小杯泡菜，手指一点儿也没有沾湿。

她不聪明，实际上恰好相反。但我相信有我的指导，她会变得聪明的。无论如何可以试一试，使一个漂亮的笨姑娘变得聪明比使一个聪明的丑姑娘变得漂亮毕竟要容易些。

On a Winter day some years ago, coming out of Pittsburgh on one of the

expresses of the Pennsylvania Railroad, I rolled eastward for an hour through the coal and steel towns of Westmoreland county. It was familiar ground; boy and man, I had been through it often before. But somehow I had never quite sensed its appalling desolation. Here was the very heart of industrial America, the center of its most lucrative and characteristic activity, the boast and pride of the richest and grandest nation ever seen on earth--and here was a scene so dreadfully hideous , so intolerably bleak and forlorn that it reduced the whole aspiration of man to a macabre and depressing joke . Here was wealth beyond computation, almost beyond imagination--and here were human habitations so abominable that they would have disgraced a race of alley cats.

I am not speaking of mere filth. One expects steel towns to be dirty. What I allude to is the unbroken and agonizing ugliness, the sheer revolting monstrousness, of every house in sight. From East Liberty to Greensburg, a distance of twenty-five miles, there was not one in sight from the train that did not insult and lacerate the eye. Some were so bad, and they were among the most pretentious --churches, stores, warehouses, and the like--that they were down-right startling; one blinked before them as one blinks before a man with his face shot away. A few linger in memory, horrible even there: a crazy little church just west of Jeannette, set like a dormer-window on the side of a bare leprous hill; the headquarters of the Veterans of Foreign Wars at another forlorn town, a steel stadium like a huge rattrap somewhere further down the line. But most of all I recall the general effect--of hideousness without a break. There was not a single decent house within eyerange from the Pittsburgh to the Greensburg yards. There was not one that was not misshapen, and there was not one that was not shabby.

几年前的一个冬日，我乘坐宾夕法尼亚铁路公司的一班快车离开匹兹堡，向东行驶一小时，穿越了威斯特摩兰县的煤城和钢都。这是我熟悉的地方，无论是童年时期还是成年时期，我常常经过这一带。但以前我从来没有感到这地方荒凉得这么可怕。这儿正是工业化美国的心脏，是其最赚钱、最典型活动的中心，世界上最富裕、最伟大的国家的自豪和骄傲——然而这儿的景象却又丑陋得这样可怕，凄凉悲惨得这么令人无法忍受，以致人的抱负和壮志在这儿成了令人毛骨悚然的、令人沮丧的笑料。这儿的财富多得无法计算，简直都无法想象——也是在这儿，人们的居住条件又是如此之糟，连那些流浪街头的野猫也为之害羞。

我说的不仅仅是脏。钢铁城镇的脏是人们意料之中的事。我指的是所看到的房子没有一幢不是丑陋得令人难受，畸形古怪得让人作呕的。从东自由镇到格林斯堡，在这全长25英里的路上，从火车上看去，没有一幢房子不让人看了感到眼睛不舒服和难受。有的房子糟得吓人，而这些房子竞还是一些最重要的建筑——教堂、商店、仓库等等。人们惊愕地看着这些房子，就像是看见一个脸给子弹崩掉的人一样。有的留在记忆里，甚至回忆起来也是可怕的：珍尼特西面的一所样子稀奇古怪的小教堂，就像一扇老虎窗贴在一面光秃秃的、似有麻风散鳞的山坡上；参加过国外战争的退伍军人总部，设在珍尼特过去不远的另一个凄凉的小镇上。沿铁路线向东不远处的一座钢架，就像一个巨大的捕鼠器。但我回忆里出现的 三要还是一个总的印象——连绵不断的丑陋。从匹兹堡到格林斯 堡火车调车场，放眼望去，没有一幢像样的房子。没有一幢不是歪歪扭扭的，没有一幢不是破破烂烂的。

We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom -- symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning -- signifying renewal, as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago.

The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to

abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe -- the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.

We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans -- born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage, and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

This much we pledge -- and more.

To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge: to convert our good words into good deeds, in a new alliance for progress, to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this hemisphere intends to

remain the master of its own house.

To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support -- to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective, to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak, and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.

But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course -- both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind’s final war.

And, if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor -- not a new balance of power, but a new world of law -- where the strong are just, and the weak secure and the peace preserved.

All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days; nor in the life of this Administration; nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.