《渴望之书》是一本真自我的书，太任性。一度阅读觉得科恩是不是在各种药丸子的状态下写的。不能说愤青，颓废，无聊，有趣，清醒的，沉迷的包括一些lubricious…感觉是在时不时比较high的状况下写的。有的文很好，有的…真心读不进去。所以不明白北岛为什么推荐这样的一位歌手诗人。以前的自己或许很喜欢，现在欣赏不动。如同鲍勃迪伦获得了诺贝尔文学奖一样让人掉了下巴又哭笑不得，所以"诗人"的头衔就算了。感觉这门槛也太低了。当时也写了很长一段感想，后来觉得没什么保存的必要。不过我想科恩本人也不会对我这种评论说什么，毕竟那样率真的一个人，顶多一句QTMD。这本书整体阅读还是挺愉悦的，活的真实。但是一个歌手还真是歌更好听，如同一个画家还是画更好看。嗯，我是略微想提陈丹青老师。不过算啦！
看到了一处注解Apres moi, le deluge 其实是"我死之后，洪水滔天"却被经常曲解为"我死之后，哪怕洪水滔天"。类似"以德报怨"人们常省略后面的话一样。不过也看出当时社会人民的憎恨。
The Painted Veil终于今天收尾。晨风带来嘈杂的凉意。车流声卷着"嘎嘎""啾啾"的鸟叫掀起了窗。如果所有的一切停止在踏往Hk的一刻就好了。到此终结是一本还算喜欢的书，后文的添加真的是条狗尾巴。脑海中盘旋的不是‘The dog it was that died.’而是Sometimes, when I’ve had half a dozen whiskies and look at the stars, I think perhaps it does.
毛姆的书向来喜欢，没想到多年好感差点败在第一本他的原版书。大量句式的重复，明明短句能说明非要复杂的长句表述，词汇量的过度使用与重复，插入语频繁的上桌，如同海浪上的一层浮沫，让人不大适应。甚至觉得这是写出吊膀子的"拉里"的手吗？后半截的内容可以说抢救了整本书的立意，如果没有结尾回到hk见到唐生，如果没有这个部分。
终于读完了，结尾父亲的那一段让人唏嘘。不过这种赶书的阅读体验是头昏脑涨。以后不能这么肝，虽然速读带来了不少流畅感，但总觉得错过了许多赏析的细节。
只贴中间靠后最让我欣赏的部分，作为这本书的记录。
The dog it was that died.
爱尔兰作家Oliver Goldsmith An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog《 挽歌:哀悼一只疯狗之死》
The man recoverrd of the bite. The dog it was that died.
用文中的话说‘It’s the last line of Goldsmith’s Elegy’.
其实是Walter临死前发出的对自己一生的讽刺，是个笑话是个滑稽的悲剧。
She saw Waddington light a cigarette. A little smoke lost in the air, that was the life of man.
I wonder if it matters that what they have aimed at is illusion. Their lives are in themselves beautiful. I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.
Kitty对人生追求的思索，或多或少对照个人的心态。生活本是艰难，何必再去苦修。修心修身本是个人自我要求的一部分。而不是外力的吸引。
It is the Way and the Waygoer. It is the eternal road along which walk all beings, but no being made it, for itself is being. It is everything and nothing. From it all things spring, all things conform to it, and to it at last all things return. It is a square without angles, a sound which ears cannot hear, and an image without form. It is a vast net and though its meshes are as wide as the sea it lets nothing through. It is the sanctuary where all things find refuge. It is nowhere, but without looking out of the window you may see it. Desire not to desire, it teaches, and leave all things to take their course.
关于道是什么的描写，很是力入三分。
莫名想起"万物生于道，必归于道，远逝必返之。"
不管怎样，读完了，不想再纠结了。突然发现再努力逼迫自己一些，还是能更精进自己。