玉轮与六便士经典句子英文.docx

玉轮与六便士经典句子英文第一次世界大战停止得第二年，也便是1919年，一部日后影响世界得经典名著《玉轮与六便士》问世了此书一经面世，便在西欧国度惹起了宏大惊动，人们纷繁抢购此书，好评更是如潮流般涌来而发明了这部伟巨细说得恰是其毛姆上面是本站为各人整顿得，供各人参考　　玉轮与六便士经典句子英文 　　Each one of us is alone in the world. He is shut in a tower of brass, and can communicate with his fellows only by signs, and the signs have no common value, so that their sense is vague and uncertain. We seek pitifully to convey to others the treasures of our heart, but they have not the power to accept them, and so we go lonely, side by side but not together, unable to know our fellows and unknown by them. We are like people living in a country whose language they know so little that, with all manner of beautiful and profound things to say, they are condemned to the banalities of the conversation manual. Their brain is seething with ideas, and they can only tell you that the umbrella of the gardeners aunt is in the house. 　　咱们每小我私家生活着界上都是孤单得。

每小我私家都被软禁在一座铁塔里，只能依附一些符号同他人转达本人得思惟;而这些符号并不共同代价，因而它们得意思是隐约得、没有肯定得咱们十分不幸地想把本人心中得财产传递给他人，然而他们却不接受这些财产得才能因而咱们只能孤单地行走，只管身材相互依傍却并没有在一同，既没有相识他人也没有能为他人所相识咱们仿佛住在异国得人，对于于这个国度得言语理解十分少，虽然咱们有各类美好得深邃得事件要说，却只能局限于会话手册上得那多少句陈旧、平淡得话咱们得脑子里布满了各类思惟，而咱们能说得只不外是像"花匠得姑母有一把伞在房子里这类话 　　All over the place was six pence, but he looked up at the moon. 翻译：满bai地都是du六便士，他却低头瞥见了玉轮 　　The season was drawing to its dusty end, and everyone I knew was arranging to go away. Mrs. Strickland was taking her family to the coast of Norfolk, so that the children might have the sea and her husband golf. We said good-bye to one another, and arranged to meet in the autumn. But on my last day in town, coming out of the Stores, I met her with her son and daughter; like myself, she had been making her final purchases before leaving London, and we were both hot and tired. I proposed that we should all go and eat ices in the park. 　　I think Mrs. Strickland was glad to show me her children, and she accepted my invitation with alacrity. They were even more attractive than their photographs had suggested, and she was right to be proud of them. I was young enough for them not to feel shy, and they chattered merrily about one thing and another. They were extraordinarily nice, healthy young children. It was very agreeable under the trees. 　　When in an hour they crowded into a cab to go home, I strolled idly to my club. I was perhaps a little lonely, and it was with a touch of envy that I thought of the pleasant family life of which I had had a glimpse. They seemed devoted to one another. They had little private jokes of their own which, unintelligible to the outsider, amused them enormously. Perhaps Charles Strickland was dull judged by a standard that demanded above all things verbal scintillation; but his intelligence was adequate to his surroundings, and that is a passport, not only to reasonable success, but still more to happiness. Mrs. Strickland was a charming woman, and she loved him. I pictured their lives, troubled by no untoward adventure, honest, decent, and, by reason of those two upstanding, pleasant children, so obviously destined to carry on the normal traditions of their race and station, not without significance. 　　I have a recollection of large, unbending women with great noses and rapacious eyes, who wore their clothes as though they were armour; and of little, mouse-like spinsters, with soft voices and a shrewd glance. I never ceased to be fascinated by their persistence in eating buttered toast with their gloves on, and I observed with admiration the unconcern with which they wiped their fingers on their chair when they thought no one was looking. It must have been bad for the furniture, but I suppose the hostess took her revenge on the furniture of her friends when, in turn, she visited them. Some of them were dressed fashionably, and they said they couldnt for the life of them see why you should be dowdy just because you had written a novel; if you had a neat figure you might as well make the most of it, and a smart shoe on a small foot had never prevented an editor from taking your stuff. But others thought this frivolous, and they wore art fabrics and barbaric jewelry. The men were seldom eccentric in appearance. They tried to look as little like authors as possible. They wished to be taken for men of the world, and could have passed anywhere for the managing clerks of a city firm. 　　Strickland was in a good humour, and when Dirk Stroeve came up and sat down with us he attacked him with ferocious banter. He showed a skill I should never have credited him with in finding the places where the unhappy Dutchman was most sensitive. Strickland employed not the rapier of sarcasm but the bludgeon of invective. The attack was so unprovoked that Stroeve, taken unawares, was defenceless. He reminded you of a frightened sheep running aimlessly hither and thither. He was startled and amazed. At last the tears ran from his eyes. And the worst of it was that, though you hated Strickland, and the exhibition was horrible, it。