We remember Ronald McNair， who said that he learned perseverance in the cotton fields of South Carolina. His dream was to live aboard the space station， performing experiments and playing his saxophone in the weightlessness of space； Ron， we will miss your saxophone and we will build your space station.
We remember Gregory Jarvis. On that ill-fated flight he was carrying with him a flag of his university in Buffalo， New York—a small token he said， to the people who unlocked his future.
We remember Christa McAuliffe， who captured the imagination of the entire nation， inspiring us with her pluck， her restless spirit of discovery； a teacher， not just to her students， but to an entire people， instilling us all with the excitement of this journey we ride into the future.
We will always remember them， these skilled professionals， scientists and adventurers， these artists and teachers and family men and women， and we will cherish each of their stories-stories of triumph and bravery， stories of true American heroes.
On the day of the disaster， our nation held a vigil by our television sets. In one cruel moment， our exhilaration turned to horror； we waitedand watched and tried to make sense of what we had seen. That night， I listened to a call-in program on the radio： people of every age spoke of their sadness and the pride they felt in our astronauts. Across America， we are reaching out， holding hands， finding comfort in one another.
The sacrifice of your loved ones has stirred the soul of our nation and， through the pain， our hearts have been opened to a profound truth— the future is not free， the story of all human progress is one of a struggle against all odds. We learned again that this America， which Abraham Lincoln called the last best hope of man on Earth， was built on heroism and noble sacrifice. It was built by men and women like our seven star voyagers， who answered a call beyond duty， who gave more than was expected or required， and who gave it with little thought to worldly reward.
We think back to the pioneers of an earlier century， and the sturdy souls who took their families and the belongings and set out into the frontier of the American West. Often， they met with terrible hardship. Along the Oregon Trail you can still see the grave markers of those who fell on the Way. But grief only steeled them to the journey ahead.
Today， the frontier is space and the boundaries of human knowledge. Sometimes， when we reach for the stars， we fall short. But we must pick ourselves up again and press on despite the pain. Our nation is indeed fortunate that we can still draw on immense reservoirs of courage， character and fortitude—that we are still blessed with heroes like those of the space shuttle Challenger.
Dick Scobee knew that every launching of a space shuttle is a technological miracle. And he said， if something ever does go wrong， I hope that doesn’t mean the end to the space shuttle program. Every family member I talked to asked specifically that we continue the program， that that is what their departed loved one would want above all else. We will not disappoint them.
Today， we promise Dick Scohee and his crew that their dream lives on； that the future they worked so hard to build will become reality. Thededicated men and women of NASA have lost seven members of their family. Still， they too， must forge ahead， with a space program that is effective， safe and efficient， but bold and committed.
Man will continue his conquest of space. To reach out for new goals and ever greater achievements—that is the way we shall commemorate our seven Challenger heroes.
Dick， Mike， Judy， El， Ron， Greg and Christa-your families and your country mourn your passing. We bid you goodbye. We will never forget you. For those who knew you well and loved you， the pain will be deep and enduring. A nation， too， will long feel the loss of her seven sons and daughters， her seven good friends. We can find consolation only in faith， for we know in our hearts that you who flew so high and so proud now make your home beyond the stars， safe in God’ s promise of eternal life.
May God bless you all and give you comfort in this difficult time.
33
The Diary of a Young Girl
安妮日记 （ 节选）
SATURDAY， JUNE 20，1942
Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written anything before， but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Oh well， it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing， and I have an even greater need to get all kinds of things off my chest.
“Paper has more patience than people.” I thought of this saying on one of those days when I was feeling a littte depressed and was sitting at home with my chin in my hands， bored and listless， wondering whether to stay in or go out， I finally stayed where I was， brooding. Yes， paper does have more patience， and since I’m not planning to let anyone else read this stiff- backed notebook grandly referred to as a “diary，” unless I should ever find a real friend， it probably won’t make a bit of difference.
Now I’m back to the point that prompted me to keep a diary in the first place： I don’t have a friend.
