“Stulti vita ingrata est， trepida est， tota in futurum fertur.” aNevertheless I compose myself to lose mine without regret； but withal as a thing that is perishable by its condition， not that it molests or annoys me. Nor does it properly well become any not to be displeased when they die， excepting such as are pleased to live. There is good husbandry in enjoying it： I enjoy it double to what others do； for the measure of its fruition depends upon our more or less application to it. Chiefly that I perceive mine to be so short in time， I desire to extend it in weight； I willa “The life of a fool is thankless， timorous， and wholly bent upon the future.” —Seneca， Ep：， 15.
stop the promptitude of its flight by the promptitude of my grasp； and by the vigour of using it compensate the speed of its running away. In proportion as the possession of life is more short ， I must make it so much deeper and fuller.
19
How the Steel Was Tempered
钢铁是怎样炼成的（节选）
He had torn himself away from all this long ago. He felt a far closer kinship now with the big city to which he was bound by the strong， vitalising bonds of comradeship and labour.
By now he had reached the pine woods， and he paused a moment at the road fork. To his right stood the old prison cut off from the woods by a high spiked fence， and beyond it the white buildings of the hospital.
It was here on this broad common that the hangman’s noose had choked the warm life out of Valya and her comrades. Pavel stood in silence on the spot where the gallows had been， then walked over to the bluff and down to the little cemetery where the victims of the Whiteguard terror lay in their common graves. Loving hands had laid spruce branches on the graves and built a neat green fence around the graveyard. The pines grew straight and slender on the top of the bluff and the young grass spread a silky green carpet over the slopes.
There was a melancholy hush here on the outskirts of the town. The trees whispered gently and the fresh scent of spring rose from the regenerated earth. On this spot Pavel’s comrades had gone bravely to their deaths that life might be beautiful for those born in poverty.
Slowly Pavel raised his hand and removed his cap， his heart filled with sadness.
Man’s dearest possession is life. It is given to him but once， and he must live it so as to feel no torturing regrets for wasted years， never know the burning shame of a mean and petty past； so live that， dying， hemight say： all my life， all my strength were given to the finest cause in all the world—the fight for the Liberation of Mankind. And one must make use of every moment of life， lest some sudden illness or tragic accident cut it short.
With these reflections， Korchagin turned away from the cemetery.
20
Credo
信条
To begin with， did I really learn everything I need to know in kindergarten？ Do I still believe that？ Here is the original essay， followed by my editorial reaction.
Each spring， for many years， I have set myself the task of writing a personal statement of belief： a Credo. When I was younger， the statement ran for many pages， trying to cover every base， with no loose ends. It sounded like a Supreme Court brief， as if words could resolve all conflicts about the meaning of existence.
The Credo has grown shorter in recent years—sometimes cynical， sometimes comical， and sometimes bland—but I keep working at it. Recently I set out to get the statement of personal belief down to one page in simple terms， fully understanding the na ve idealism that implied.
The inspiration for brevity came to me at a gasoline station. I managed to fill my old car’s tank with super deluxe high-octane go-juice. My old hoopy couldn’t handle it and got the willies—kept sputtering out at intersections and belching going downhill. I understood. My mind and my spirit get like that from time to time. Too much high-content information ， and I get the existential willies. I keep sputtering out at intersections where life choices must be made and I either know too much or not enough. The examined life is no picnic.
I realized then that I already know most of what’s necessary to live a meaningful life—that it isn’t all that complicated. I know it. And haveknown it for a long， long time. Living it—well， that’s another matter， yes？ Here’s my Credo：
All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate- school mountain， but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned：
Share everything. Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life—learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world， watch out for traffic， hold hands， and stick together.
Wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup： The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why， but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup—they all die. So do we.
And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned—the biggest word of all—LOOK.
Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.
Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adultterms and apply it to your family life or your work or your government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it would be if we all—the whole world—had cookies and milk about three o’clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.
