菲利普·亨舍
細(xì)膩描繪社會(huì)變遷
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent friends.
心可能以為它更了解：感官知道缺席會(huì)將人抹去。我們其實(shí)沒有不在場(chǎng)的朋友。
Love is the meeting of two souls, fully accepting the dark and the light within each other.
愛是兩個(gè)靈魂的相遇，完全接受彼此內(nèi)在的黑暗與光明。
Memory is what we thought we’d forgotten; it’s also what we thought we’d remember.
記憶是我們以為已經(jīng)忘記的東西；也是我們以為會(huì)記住的東西。
When you are young, you think that the world is a place where you can live as you choose. But as you get older, you realize that the world is a place where you have to live as you must.
年輕時(shí)，你以為世界是一個(gè)可以隨心所欲生活的地方。但隨著年齡增長(zhǎng)，你意識(shí)到世界是一個(gè)你必須按照必須的方式生活的地方。
You get towards the end of life—no, not life itself, but of something else: the end of any likelihood of change in that life.
你接近生命的終點(diǎn)——不，不是生命本身，而是其他東西：生命中任何改變的可能性的終結(jié)。
We live in time—it holds us and moulds us—but I’ve never felt I understood it very well.
我們生活在時(shí)間中——它塑造并控制著我們——但我從未覺得自己真正理解它。
History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.
歷史是記憶的不完美與文獻(xiàn)的不足相遇時(shí)產(chǎn)生的確定性。
How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life.
我們多久講述一次自己的人生故事？我們多久調(diào)整、修飾、狡猾地刪減一次？而且生命越長(zhǎng)久，周圍能質(zhì)疑我們敘述的人就越少，提醒我們我們的生活不是我們的生活，僅僅是我們講述的關(guān)于生活的故事。
There are things that happen and leave no discernible trace, are not spoken or written of, though it would be very wrong to say that subsequent events go on indifferently, all the same, as though such things had never been.
有些事情發(fā)生了卻沒有留下可察覺的痕跡，沒有被談?wù)摶蛴涗浵聛?，盡管如果說后續(xù)事件漠不關(guān)心地繼續(xù)下去，就好像這些事情從未發(fā)生過一樣，那是非常錯(cuò)誤的。
The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.
過去是一個(gè)異國(guó)他鄉(xiāng)；他們做事的方式不同。