1. 如果说“义”代表一种伦理的人生态度，“利”代表一种功利的人生态度，那么，我所说的 “情”便代表一种审美的人生态度。它主张率性而行，适情而止，每个人都保持自己的真性情。

你不是你所信奉的教义，也不是你所占有的物品，你之为你仅在于你的真实“自我”。生命的意 义不在奉献或占有，而在创造，创造就是人的真性情的积极展开，是人在实现其本质力量时所获 得的情感上的满足。创造不同于奉献，奉献只是完成外在的责任，创造却是实现真实的“自我”。 至于创造和占有，其差别更是一目了然，譬如写作，占有注重的是作品所带来的名利地位，创造 注重的只是创作本身的快乐。有真性情的人，与人相处唯求情感的沟通，与物相触独钟情趣的品 味。更为可贵的是，在世人匆忙逐利又为利所逐的时代，他接人待物有一种闲适之情。我不是指 中国士大夫式的闲情逸致，也不是指小农式的知足保守，而是指一种不为利驱、不为物役的淡泊 的生活情怀。仍以写作为例，我想不通，一个人何必要著作等身呢？倘想流芳千古，一首不朽的 小诗足矣。倘无此奢求，则只要活得自在即可，写作也不过是这活得自在的一种方式罢了。 (40%)

2. 在“我”和“我们”之间，是以“他人”作为连接点的。“我”因“他人”而成为“我” “我 们”因“他人”而成为“我们”。当“我们”过度地强化、放大“我”，而舍弃“他人”的时候，

“我”便处于四面受敌的孤立无援之中。在我们的传统习性中，“他人”这一概念，更多的情况 下，只是一种被供奉的虚设牌位。我们的成语中曾有“以邻为壑”一词，可以佐证；有“只扫自 家门前雪，哪管他人瓦上霜”的读语，可以证言。即便在集体主义理想教育最为鼎盛之时，“他 人”不仅未能成为国人的自觉意识，“他人”反而意味着告密、背叛、异己、危险、离间等等。 这种体制下的集体主义文化，终于导致了 “他人即地狱”的严酷后果。闻“他人”而心颤，近“他 人”而丧胆。也许正是由于对“他人”的恐惧，“文革”之后，“我们”迅速土崩瓦解，“我”自 仰天长啸一一而“他人”却不得不退出公众的视线，淡化为一个可有可无的虚词，成为公民道德 的模糊地带。（35%)

1.? And I want beauty in my life. I have seen beauty in a sunset and in the spring woods and in the eyes of divers women, but now these happy accidents of light and color no longer thrill me. And I want beauty in my life itself, rather than in such chances as befall it. It seems to me that many actions of my life were beautiful, very long ago, when I was young in an evanished world of friendly girls, who were all more lovely than any girl is nowadays. For women now are merely more or less good-looking, and as I know, their looks when at their best have been painstakingly enhanced and edited. But I would like this life which moves and yearns in me, to be able itself to attain to comeliness, though but in transitory performance. The life of a butterfly, for example, is just a graceful gesture: and yet, in that its loveliness is complete and perfectly rounded in itself, I envy this bright flicker through existence. And the nearest I can come to my ideal is punctiliously to pay my bills, be polite to my wife, and contribute to deserving charities: and the program does not seem, somehow, quite adequate. There are my books, I know; and there is beauty “embalmed and treasured up” in many pages of my books, and in the books of other persons, too, which I may read at will: but this desire inborn in me is not to be satiated by making marks upon paper, nor by deciphering them. In short, I am enamored of that flawless beauty of which all poets have perturbedly divined the existence somewhere, and which life as men know it simply does not afford nor anywhere foresee. (40%)

2.? What is it that we mean by literature? Popularly, and amongst the thoughtless, it is held to include everything that is printed in a book. Little logic is required to disturb that definition. The most thoughtless person is easily made aware that in the idea of literature one essential element is some relation to a general and common interest of man—so that what applies only to a local, or professional, or merely personal interest, even though presenting itself in the shape of a book, will not belong to Literature. So far the definition is easily narrowed; and it is as easily expanded. For not only is much that takes a station in books not literature; but inversely, much that really is literature never reaches a station in books. The weekly sermons of Christendom, that vast pulpit literature which acts so extensively upon the popular mind—to warn, to uphold, to renew, to comfort, to alarm—does not attain the sanctuary of libraries in the ten-thousandth part of its extent. The Drama again—as, for instance, the finest of Shakespeare’s plays in England, and all leading Athenian plays in the noontide of the Attic stage—operated as a literature on the public mind, and were (according to the strictest letter of that term) published through the audiences that witnessed their representation some time before they were published as things to be read; and they were published in this scenical mode of publication with much more effect than they could have had as books during ages of costly copying or of costly printing. (35%)

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