鼓声——愿你安然入睡

　　DUFF

　　When darkness comes, what will I do for this game? End it? Continue? Or start a new one?
　　The music goes through my ears, but I don’t know why I want to hear it. Mozart music, people said that it full of magic and fantasy, but I really don’t know what he wants to show.
　　This afternoon I have nothing to do. Almost every second I just wait for the tour de France that this midnight will show on the CCTV5, no one guess that Armstrong can’t get the goal.
　　Think twice, this vocation, I did nothing special, just spent too much money for some Positive version software, then lend many books from a little bookstore.
　　My homework, I wrote not a word for it. I’m a lazy one of the student, right? But there is something worth to notice, that is, more and more student chose foreign language to study, at the same time of they drop their native language: Chinese. There is a kind of Phenomenon, if you ask a pupil who is Confucius, he/she doesn’t know. Then you ask who is Shakespeare; he/she will tell you and then maybe talk about the story of Romeo and Juliet. It’s a pity for one country’s couture.
　　Ok, I’ll start my homework.
　　My mistakes are always for buying so much books, and the worse I did is they are always with no regard to schooling. Maybe that’s one of my earliest disasters in my childhood. For a long time, when I was fresh out of school, my parents would think that I was fresh from any bookstore they can guess. I didn’t mean to reach for the adverse goals of them. I have always had a propensity to justify my action, right? As I was 13, I made a promise to myself: I’ll run a shop that specializes in all kinds of book I like. It’s a decent job for me. I often dreamed about that I’m a little boat, putting into book port. At that time I regarded that one has no business telling other people what to do, even thought the one be persuaded was stuck for everything. Reasonably, I was exposed to different cultures from the books I’ve read. It’s a matter of imagination. I guessed that I was on my way to a style of person I’ve never known. The same was true of my parents.
　　In essence I bought less and less book---not that I couldn’t afford to. Actually our standard of living was increasing, and I could get more books. Along with the increasing of age, the love of different authors’ works served only to become deeper than before.
　　Was never eye did see that face,
　　Was never ear did hear that tongue,
　　Was never mind did mind his grace,
　　That ever thought the travail long;
　　But eyes and ears and every thought
　　Were with his sweet perfections caught.

　　(From Lowell’s Essay.)
　　My mother said book is the alcohol that fogged my brain, deadly serious. She believed that it has taken its toll on my mentality. And I have no desire to disprove---not that I have no word to disprove. The seemingly polite or meek or respectful behave amounted to a refusal of communion. But, who can lock the real notion away forever? One day, if I fail to hide my mask, who can deter me from restless reading? Only time, on the whole. (I remembered one song of Enya: Only Time.) I knew she would never give up to keep me at it. As she, lose the grip on me, is something later, later and later. It’s just a kind of gloss. The truth is at that time my family was uptight, my parents were always putting their mind to support the whole family. In fact, I couldn’t say I like to run errands for them.
　　(I loved my family. But, I had a strong commitment of follow M rules, M was I, and M was something I still didn’t know.)
　　Self-serving one! Till today I can hear a beat in my heart shouting that words.

　　It made no sense to read every book of the world and make room for deposit. I had no wish to measure my work against that of a super size library. Do you think it’s worth to do? It’s possible that what I do for the world is just a drop in the bucket. Then the contribution I’ve never read can work out to an unlooked-for number. The length of life is short to the extent of the time river.
　　Test the life, and test the fun. But one can’t do everything he/she wants, and I think every great work can help. One isn’t a king, by reading King Lear may makes him/her has the feeling or the hypothetical experience. Now our country carry out faming planning, more and more families just have one child. A person has less chance to live with brothers or sisters. Many old tales describe the state of the big family. People may comprehend what they’ll never come through. One can be a newcomer to pitch in the fictive world, and somehow to get on with some problems in one’s brain. All things consider, one shall do what shall be do better after learning something from a useful book. Take my word for it, you will become more than you think you are.
　　There’re a lot of books, which are worth to read. Didn’t you hear about them? I just make a list out of interest. When you are done with it, can you tell me how many have the books be mentioned you’ve read?
　　Now, look at that.
　　Little Woman by Louise May Alcott
　　Fairy Tales by Andersen
　　Aesop’s Fables
　　Orlands Furioso by Ludovico Ariosto
　　Metaphysics, On Dreams, On The Soul, and so on by Aristotle
　　Confessions and Enchiridion by Saint Augustine
　　Emma, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and so on by Jane Austen
　　The Land of Little Rain by Mary Hunter
　　The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne
　　Father Goriot, Eugenie Grandet, The Magic Skin, The Human Comedy, Bureaucracy, and so on by Balzac
　　Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie
　　The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce
　　Poems of William Black
　　The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio
　　The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte
　　The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan
　　The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
　　Tarzan of the Apes
　　Don Juan by George Byron
　　The Scapegoat by Hall Caine
　　Don Quixote by Cervantes
　　Canterbury tales by Chaucer
　　The Moonstone, No Name, I Say No, The Woman in White, The Guilty River, and so on by Wilkie Collins
　　The Adventures of Pinocchio
　　Heart of Darkness, The Secret Agent, Lord Jim, The Shadow Land, End of the Tether, and so on by Joseph Conrad
　　…
　　It’s so much for that. The list in my brain is as long as piece goods. My favorites will add up to 3000.
　　Maybe one won’t be the richest man on record, to be sure, but he/she could be the happiest book collector. A part of person are always fussing with the increasing of loaves and fishes, take no care about pabulum. Aren’t they the poorest one? For all I know, they are.

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