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我永远也不会忘记那只小兔子和那种感觉，那是它以及任何生命可以给予的、对生命的启示。
During a brief acting career； I appeared in an obscure play at a backstreet theatre。 My part was a real challenge； furiously rehearsed for weeks。
On the second night after opening； I was aware of a strange lack of response from the house。 Believing there was something lacking in my performance I tried a little harder – and harder still。 No improvement。
Only in the interval was the terrible truth revealed： There was no one in the audience。 I was mortified。 To this day I feel the blush on my cheek when I think of myself pouring my heart out – to no one。
I quit acting soon after that。 It obviously wasn’t the right choice for me； if a response was so essential。
By contrast think of an artist like Renoir； who went on producing pictures； day in day out； year after year； decade following decade。 Nothing ever stopped him； no amount of discouragement； poverty or failure。 He painted away； regardless of people’s opinions； in pure delight at his own creativity。
To be an artist merely for the return it may bring is as doomed as entering a relationship only for what you hope to get out of it： warmth； togetherness； intimacy； sex； security； money； status or whatever： The minute the reward is not forthing； it all es to an end。
Love is like art： to survive it has to be genuine； sustained by its own imperative； and never requiring an applause。
A lot of people have a fear of mitment。 I suppose what they really abhor is being dependent； handing over control。 I can relate to that。
What I can’t understand is why anyone should want to control another； especially in the name of love。 For if you attempt it； it leaves the other person with no option but to resist； evade or deceive you； or； worst of all； succumb to your will； in which case their personality expires； and you are stuck with what？ A mollusc。
The symbiosis of domination； like any mutual dependence； is the enemy of love。 Based on want； our greatest weakness； it makes us stunted； insecure。 For if you rely on each other to fill the vacuum inside you； one of you is always bound to lose； as the other one dies； or simply moves on。
So – if you wish to find a partner； foster your independence； over…e your needs。 Thus released； you’ll have the best to offer： your own affluent heart。
Give freely of your love。 One day you’ll e across another giver； and then it will all fall into place； without any restrictions。 You’ll both be ready for the ultimate gift： that of mitment。 电子书 分享网站
Love 爱（3）
Trivia is poison for the soul。 It wears you down； grates on your nerves； drives you to distraction。 Mental breakdowns and stress…related illness are often due to pressures of the most meaningless kind。
As for romance； few antidotes are as effective as the trials and tribulations of normal； everyday family life。 Before you know it； endless concerns of little or no significance take up your entire field of vision。
It takes something extraordinary； perhaps a brush with tragedy； to make you realize what you stand to lose。
When a friend of ours died unexpectedly； leaving behind a wife and a young child； I wrote the following lines to my husband：
My love； when you die –
if you die before me –
I shall grieve。
Not for your passing；
I know better than that。
What can’t be altered
must be borne
and gracefully accepted。
But I shall grieve –
oh how I shall grieve
for each moment of our life together
that we had and did not treasure：
precious gifts left unopened；
blossoms trampled underfoot。
Celebrations
lost forever。
Sacrificed。
Waylaid。
Oh my love； how I shall mourn them。
Many years ago in London； I was visited by a girl…friend in a highly emotional state。 I was used to seeing her troubled； plagued by doomed or thwarted expectations； often lonely and depressed。
It transpired that she’d been to a seance。 A male voice had sought her out； telling her； tenderly； how much he loved her； how he wished to see her happy； and how he was always watching over her。
“It was my father；” she whispered tearfully。 “The father I never knew。 He was killed in the war； when I was a baby。”
I reacted with a certain scepticism： “Do you really believe there’s such a thing as spirits？”
“Who knows？” she smiled； unperturbed。 “The thing is； it made me realise that he would have felt just like that。 And； although he’s gone； I still have his love。 It is contained within me。 I just wasn’t aware of it before。”
The woman I knew had been transformed。 She stood before me radiant； secure in the knowledge that she was lovable and loved。 Looking at her； I could tell that the person she had suddenly bee had a rosy future ahead of her。
That moment was a turning…point for me； too。 For； just like her； I had a father who died when I was a baby。
My son used to have a black…and…white pet rabbit who amazed us all。 He was fully house…trained； answered to his name； he played with dinky toys and went cycling in a basket on the handle…bars。
He liked watching the early evening news； sitting on the sofa with the rest of us； occasionally operating the remote control with his hind paw； or sipping tea from my mug when I wasn’t looking。
The rabbit was so much part of our life； we couldn’t imagine it without him scuttling around the house。
After two years he was struck down with “flu”。 The nasty kind that few rabbits survive。 I rang the vet； who promised to e： a sixty mile round…trip for our precious pet。
While waiting； I took the rabbit on my lap to try and syringe some water into him。 Weak； but peaceful； he lay on his side in what seemed an unnatural position。 He placed his head fortably on my arm and gave me a curious glance： not like a rabbit at all。
Later I realized it was an acknowledgement： of my presence； my care； and my love for him。 For at that moment I had a rare sensation of love in its purest； most unadulterated form： love stripped of all self…interest； existing only as a mystic force。
I felt it reaching out