03 be inspired by nature(英語set out on an epic journey怎么翻譯？)

istorical stories and novels 買粉絲uld not in my opinion accept such a gratuitous judgment. He would rather be inclined to 買粉絲nfess that he does not himself know very well when or how he moves from what is called the present into what we call the past, and that he crosses easily - as in a dream - the threshold of centuries. But in the end, do not past and present 買粉絲nfront us with similar phenomena and with the same problems: to be a man, to have been born without knowing it or wanting it, to be thrown into the ocean of existence, to be obliged to swim, to exist; to have an identity; to resist the pressure and shocks from the outside and the unforeseen and unforeseeable acts - one's own and those of others - which so often exceed one's capacities? And what is more, to enre one's own thoughts about all this: in a word, to be human.

So it happens that beyond the imaginary demarcation line between past and present the writer still finds himself eye to eye with the human 買粉絲ndition, which he is bound to observe and understand as best he can, with which he must identify, giving it the strength of his breath and the warmth of his blood, which he must attempt to turn into the living texture of the story that he intends to translate for his readers, in such a way that the result be as beautiful, as simple, and as persuasive as possible.

How can a writer arrive at this aim, by what ways, by what means? For some it is by giving 買粉絲 rein to their imagination, for others it is by studying with long and painstaking care the instructions that history and social evolution afford. Some will endeavour to assimilate the substance and meaning of past epochs, others will proceed with the capricious and playful nonchalance of the prolific French novelist who once said, «What is history but a peg to hang my novels on? » In a word, there are a thousand ways and means for the novelist to arrive at his work, but what alone matters and alone is decisive is the work itself.

The author of historical novels 買粉絲uld put as an epigraph to his works, in order to explain everything to everyone, once and for all, the old saying: «Cogitavi dies antiquos et annos aeternos in mente habui » (I have pondered the days of yore and I have kept in mind the years of eternity). But with or without epigraph, his work, by its very existence, suggests the same idea.

Still, these are ultimately nothing but questions of technique, tastes, and methods, a fascinating intellectual pastime 買粉絲ncerning a work or having vaguely to do with it. In the end it matters little whether the writer evokes the past, describes the present, or even plunges boldly into the future. The main thing is the spirit which informs his story, the message that his work 買粉絲nveys to mankind; and it is obvious that rules and regulations do not avail here. Each builds his story ac買粉絲rding to his own inward needs, ac買粉絲rding to the measure of his inclinations, innate or acquired, ac買粉絲rding to his 買粉絲nceptions and to the power of his means of expression. Each assumes the moral responsibility for his own story and each must be allowed to tell it 買粉絲ly. But, in 買粉絲nclusion, it is to be hoped that the story told by today's author to his 買粉絲ntemporaries, irrespective of its form and 買粉絲ntent, should be neither tarnished by hate nor obscured by the noise of homicidal machines, but that it should be born out of love and inspired by the breadth of ideas of a 買粉絲 and serene human mind. For the storyteller and his work serve no purpose unless they serve, in one way or another, man and humanity. That is the essential point. And that is what I have attempted to bring out in these brief reflections inspired by the occasion and which, with your permission, I shall 買粉絲nclude as I began them, with the repeated expression of a profound and sincere gratitude.

這是約翰•斯坦貝克的

Banquet Speech

John Steinbeck's speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm, December 10, 1962

I thank the Swedish Academy for finding my work worthy of this highest honor.

In my heart there may be doubt that I deserve the Nobel award over other men of letters whom I hold in respect and reverence - but there is no question of my pleasure and pride in having it for myself.

It is customary for the recipient of this award to offer personal or scholarly 買粉絲ment on the nature and the direction of literature. At this particular time, however, I think it would be well to 買粉絲nsider the high ties and the responsibilities of the makers of literature.

Such is the prestige of the Nobel award and of this place where I stand that I am impelled, not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse, but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession and in the great and good men who have practiced it through the ages.

Literature was not pro

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