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我已是一个中年的人。一到中年，就有许多不愉快的现象，眼睛昏花了，记忆力减退了，头发开始秃脱而且变白了，意兴，体力，什么都不如年青的时候，常不禁会感觉到难以名言的寂寞的情味。尤其觉得难堪的是知友的逐渐减少和疏远，缺乏交际上的温暖的慰藉。不消说，相识的人数是随了年龄增加的，一个人年龄越大，走过的地方当过的职务越多，相识的人理该越增加了。可是相识的人并不就是朋友。我们和许多人相识，或是因了事务关系，或是因了偶然的机缘——如在别人请客的时候同席吃过饭之类。见面时点头或握手，有事时走访或通信，口头上彼此也称“朋友”，笔头上有时或称“仁兄”，诸如此类，其实只是一种社交上的客套，和“顿首”“百拜”同是仪式的虚伪。这种交际可以说是社交，和真正的友谊相差似乎很远。

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在那著名的古庙里，站立着一尊高大的塑像，人站在他的旁边，伸直了手还摸不到他的膝盖。很多年以来，他都使看见的人不由自主地肃然起敬，感到自己的渺小，卑微，因而渴望能得到他的拯救。这尊塑像站了几百年了，他觉得这是一种苦役。对于热望从他得到援助的芸芸众生，明知是无能为力的，因此他由于羞愧而厌烦，最后终于向那些膜拜者说话了： “众生啊，你们做的是多么可笑的事!你们以自己的模型创造了我，把我加以扩大，想从我身上发生一种威力，借以镇压你们不安定的精神。而我却害怕你们。我敢相信：你们之所以要创造我，完全是因为你们缺乏自信——请看吧，我比之你们能多些什么呢？而我却没有你们自己所具备的。”

小巷的动人处就是它无比的悠闲。无论谁，只要你到巷里去踟躇一会，你的心情就会如巷尾不波的古井，那是一种和平的静穆，而不是阴森和肃杀。它闹中取静，别有天地，仍是人间。它可能是一条现代的乌衣巷，家家有自己的一本哀乐账一部兴衰史，可是重门叠户，讳莫如深。夕阳影里，野花闲草，燕子低飞，寻觅归家。只是一片澄明如水的气氛，净化一切，笼罩一切，使人忘忧。巷，是人海汹汹中的一道避风塘，给人带来安全感；是城市喧嚣扰攘中的一带洞天幽静，胜似皇家的阁道，便于平常百姓徘徊徜徉。爱逐臭争利，锱铢必较的，请到长街闹市去；爱轻嘴薄舌的，争是论非的，请到茶馆酒楼去；爱锣鼓钲镗，管弦嗷嘈的，请到歌台剧院去；爱宁静淡泊，沉思默想的，深深的小巷在欢迎你。

I had scarcely passed my twelfth birthday when I entered the inhospitable regions of examinations, through which for the next seven years I was destined to journey. These examinations were a great trial to me. The subjects which were dearest to the examiners were almost invariably those I fancied least. I would have liked to have been examined in history, poetry and writing essays. The examiners, on the other hand, were partial to Latin and mathematics. And their will prevailed. Moreover, the questions which they asked on both these subjects were almost invariably those to which I was unable to suggest a satisfactory answer. I should have liked to be asked to say what I knew. They always tried to ask what I did not know. When I would have willingly displayed my knowledge, they sought to expose my ignorance. This sort of treatment had only one result: I did not do well in examinations.

There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled above the other in the west facing her window. She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.