Former world chess champion Bobby Fischer, wanted by the United States for defying sanctions on Yugoslavia, has applied for political asylum in Japan while he appeals against a decision to deport him.
Fischer, 61, arrived in Japan in April and was detained at Narita airport near Tokyo last month when he tried to leave for the Philippines on a passport that U.S. officials say was invalid.
The chess master has been wanted in the United States since 1992, when he defied U.S. economic sanctions against Yugoslavia to play a chess match there against his old rival Boris Spassky.
Japanese immigration officials last week rejected Fischer's initial appeal and his lawyer handed final documents for a second plea to Justice Minister Daizo Nozawa on Monday.
A Justice Ministry official said a decision on such an appeal was unlikely to be reached in a day or two, although the time required differs depending on the situation.
As a fallback , in case the appeal is rejected, Fischer has sought asylum in Japan as another line of defense, his Japanese lawyer Masako Suzuki said.
"In almost all cases the Japanese government will not force such a person back to their home country while the case is pending," she told Reuters after she met Fischer, who is being held at an immigration detention center inside the airport.
Japan accepts only political refugees. Fischer's supporters in Japan say he is being persecuted by the United States.
One of the great eccentrics of the chess world, Fischer maintains that his passport was never properly revoked and that the action was taken retroactively , his supporters say.
"He walked into the country, got stamped in legally with a visa," said Tokyo-based Canadian communications consultant John Bosnitch, who has been advising Fischer. U.S. authorities had suddenly notified Japanese officials in June that Fischer's passport had become invalid, Bosnitch added.
Fischer disappeared after the 1992 match, apparently traveling in Europe and Asia, only to resurface after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the United States in an interview on Philippines radio in which he praised the attacks.
Suzuki said Fischer, who has been in custody since July 13, looked nervous and tired.
"I think he looks very tired, very fatigued. I think his condition is not good mentally, physically."
The lawyer has filed a second request for Fischer's provisional release after an earlier request was rejected.
The non-smoking chess master is also unhappy at being kept in a cell where others around him smoke freely, Bosnitch said.
"He has had no fresh air, no exercise, no sunlight and (is) smoked out all day," he said.
A former Japanese lawmaker and chess aficionado , Ichiji Ishii, has offered to act as Fischer's guarantor if he is released while his appeal continues, since temporary immigration detention in Japan can last up to 60 days.
A Justice Ministry official said that in cases where the minister rejected an appeal, the individual would usually be quickly deported, but that this would not be possible if the person sought an injunction against deportation from a Japanese court. Ishii had said Fischer was considering such action.
Fischer became the world chess champion in 1972 when he beat Spassky of the Soviet Union in a victory seen as a Cold War propaganda coup for the United States.
The title was taken from him three years later after his conditions for a match against Anatoly Karpov, also of the Soviet Union, were rejected by chess officials.
Karpov became champion by default.
Fischer disappeared until the 1992 match against Spassky, whom he again defeated, then vanished again until his remarks on the Sept. 11 attacks. Fischer, whose mother was Jewish, has also stirred controversy with anti-Semitic remarks.
2008年7月21日星期一
Living Life Over
If I had my life to live over...I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was strained and the sofa faded. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television - and more while watching life.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding patter if I were not there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, would not show soil or was guaranteed to last a life time.
There would have been more "I love yous" ... more "I'm sorrys"... but mostly, given another shots at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was strained and the sofa faded. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television - and more while watching life.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding patter if I were not there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, would not show soil or was guaranteed to last a life time.
There would have been more "I love yous" ... more "I'm sorrys"... but mostly, given another shots at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.
The Road To Happiness
It is a commonplace among moralists that you cannot get happiness by pursuing it. This is only true if you pursue it unwisely. Gamblers at Monte Carlo are pursuing money, and most of them lose it instead, but there are other ways of pursuing money, which often succeed. So it is with happiness. If you pursue it by means of drink, you are forgetting the hang-over. Epicurus pursued it by living only in congenial society and eating only dry bread, supplemented by a little cheese on feast days. His method proved successful in his case, but he was a valetudinarian, and most people would need something more vigorous. For most people, the pursuit of happiness, unless supplemented in various ways, is too abstract and theoretical to be adequate as a personal rule of life. But I think that whatever personal rule of life you may choose it should not, except in rare and heroic cases, be incompatible with happiness.
There are a great many people who have all the material conditions of happiness, i.e. health and a sufficient income, and who, nevertheless, are profoundly unhappy. In such cases it would seem as if the fault must lie with a wrong theory as to how to live. In one sense, we may say that any theory as to how to live is wrong. We imagine ourselves more different from the animals than we are. Animals live on impulse, and are happy as long as external conditions are favorable. If you have a cat it will enjoy life if it has food and warmth and opportunities for an occasional night on the tiles. Your needs are more complex than those of your cat, but they still have their basis in instinct. In civilized societies, especially in English-speaking societies, this is too apt to be forgotten. People propose to themselves some one paramount objective, and restrain all impulses that do not minister to it. A businessman may be so anxious to grow rich that to this end he sacrifices health and private affections. When at last he has become rich, no pleasure remains to him except harrying other people by exhortations to imitate his noble example. Many rich ladies, although nature has not endowed them with any spontaneous pleasure in literature or art, decide to be thought cultured, and spend boring hours learning the right thing to say about fashionable new books that are written to give delight, not to afford opportunities for dusty snobbism.
If you look around at the men and women whom you can call happy, you will see that they all have certain things in common. The most important of these things is an activity which at most gradually builds up something that you are glad to see coming into existence. Women who take an instinctive pleasure in their children can get this kind of satisfaction out of bringing up a family. Artists and authors and men of science get happiness in this way if their own work seems good to them. But there are many humbler forms of the same kind of pleasure. Many men who spend their working life in the city devote their weekends to voluntary and unremunerated toil in their gardens, and when the spring comes, they experience all the joys of having created beauty.
The whole subject of happiness has, in my opinion, been treated too solemnly. It had been thought that man cannot be happy without a theory of life or a religion. Perhaps those who have been rendered unhappy by a bad theory may need a better theory to help them to recovery, just as you may need a tonic when you have been ill. But when things are normal a man should be healthy without a tonic and happy without a theory. It is the simple things that really matter. If a man delights in his wife and children, has success in work, and finds pleasure in the alternation of day and night, spring and autumn, he will be happy whatever his philosophy may be. If, on the other hand, he finds his wife fateful, his children's noise unendurable, and the office a nightmare; if in the daytime he longs for night, and at night sighs for the light of day, then what he needs is not a new philosophy but a new regimen----a different diet, or more exercise, or what not.
Man is an animal, and his happiness depends on his physiology more than he likes to think. This is a humble conclusion, but I cannot make myself disbelieve it. Unhappy businessmen, I am convinced, would increase their happiness more by walking six miles every day than by any conceivable change of philosophy.
There are a great many people who have all the material conditions of happiness, i.e. health and a sufficient income, and who, nevertheless, are profoundly unhappy. In such cases it would seem as if the fault must lie with a wrong theory as to how to live. In one sense, we may say that any theory as to how to live is wrong. We imagine ourselves more different from the animals than we are. Animals live on impulse, and are happy as long as external conditions are favorable. If you have a cat it will enjoy life if it has food and warmth and opportunities for an occasional night on the tiles. Your needs are more complex than those of your cat, but they still have their basis in instinct. In civilized societies, especially in English-speaking societies, this is too apt to be forgotten. People propose to themselves some one paramount objective, and restrain all impulses that do not minister to it. A businessman may be so anxious to grow rich that to this end he sacrifices health and private affections. When at last he has become rich, no pleasure remains to him except harrying other people by exhortations to imitate his noble example. Many rich ladies, although nature has not endowed them with any spontaneous pleasure in literature or art, decide to be thought cultured, and spend boring hours learning the right thing to say about fashionable new books that are written to give delight, not to afford opportunities for dusty snobbism.
If you look around at the men and women whom you can call happy, you will see that they all have certain things in common. The most important of these things is an activity which at most gradually builds up something that you are glad to see coming into existence. Women who take an instinctive pleasure in their children can get this kind of satisfaction out of bringing up a family. Artists and authors and men of science get happiness in this way if their own work seems good to them. But there are many humbler forms of the same kind of pleasure. Many men who spend their working life in the city devote their weekends to voluntary and unremunerated toil in their gardens, and when the spring comes, they experience all the joys of having created beauty.
The whole subject of happiness has, in my opinion, been treated too solemnly. It had been thought that man cannot be happy without a theory of life or a religion. Perhaps those who have been rendered unhappy by a bad theory may need a better theory to help them to recovery, just as you may need a tonic when you have been ill. But when things are normal a man should be healthy without a tonic and happy without a theory. It is the simple things that really matter. If a man delights in his wife and children, has success in work, and finds pleasure in the alternation of day and night, spring and autumn, he will be happy whatever his philosophy may be. If, on the other hand, he finds his wife fateful, his children's noise unendurable, and the office a nightmare; if in the daytime he longs for night, and at night sighs for the light of day, then what he needs is not a new philosophy but a new regimen----a different diet, or more exercise, or what not.
Man is an animal, and his happiness depends on his physiology more than he likes to think. This is a humble conclusion, but I cannot make myself disbelieve it. Unhappy businessmen, I am convinced, would increase their happiness more by walking six miles every day than by any conceivable change of philosophy.
A Walk In The Woods
I was puzzled! Why was this old woman making such a fuss about an old copse which was of no use to anybody? She had written letters to the local paper, even to a national, protesting about a projected by-pass to her village, and, looking at a map, the route was nowhere near where she lived and it wasn't as if the area was attractive. I was more than puzzled, I was intrigued.
The enquiry into the route of the new by-pass to the village was due to take place shortly, and I wanted to know what it was that motivated her. So it was that I found myself knocking on a cottage door, being received by Mary Smith and then being taken for a walk to the woods.
"I've always loved this place", she said, "it has a lot of memories for me, and for others. We all used it. They called it 'Lovers lane'. It's not much of a lane, and it doesn't go anywhere important, but that's why we all came here. To be away from people, to be by ourselves " she added.
It was indeed pleasant that day and the songs of many birds could be heard. Squirrels gazed from the branches, quite bold in their movements, obviously few people passed this way and they had nothing to fear. I could imagine the noise of vehicles passing through these peaceful woods when the by-pass was built, so I felt that she probably had something there but as I hold strong opinions about the needs of the community over-riding the opinions of private individuals, I said nothing. The village was quite a dangerous place because of the traffic especially for old people and children, their safety was more important to me than an old woman's whims.
"Take this tree", she said pausing after a short while. "To you it is just that, a tree. Not unlike many others here". She gently touched the bark. "Look here, under this branch, what can you see?"
"It looks as if someone has done a bit of carving with a knife" I said after a cursory inspection.
"Yes, that's what it is!" she said softly. "There are letters and a lover's heart".
I looked again, this time more carefully. The heart was still there and there was a suggestion of an arrow through it. The letters on one side were indistinct, but on the other an 'R' was clearly visible with what looked like an 'I' after it. "Some budding romance?" I asked, "did you know who they were?"
"Oh yes, I knew them", said Mary Smith, "it says RH loves MS".
I realised that I could be getting out of my depth, and longed to be in my office, away from here and this old lady, snug, and with a mug of tea in my hand.
She went on …"He had a penknife with a spike for getting stones from a horse's hoof, and I helped him to carve my initials. We were very much in love, but he was going away, and could not tell me what he was involved in the army. I had guessed of course. It was the last evening we ever spent together，because he went away the next day, back to his Unit. "
Mary Smith was quiet for a while, then she sobbed. "His mother showed me the telegram. 'Sergeant R Holmes ….. Killed in action in the 9)invasion of France'".
"'I had hoped that you and Robin would one day get married" she said, "He was my only child, and I would have loved to be a Granny, they would have been such lovely babies'- she was like that! "
"Two years later she too was dead. 'Pneumonia, following a chill on the chest' was what the doctor said, but I think it was an old fashioned broken heart. A child would have helped both of us."
There was a further pause. Mary Smith gently caressed the wounded tree, just as she would have caressed him. "And now they want to take our tree away from me." Another quiet sob, then she turned to me. "I was young and pretty then, I could have had anybody, I wasn't always the old woman you see here now. I had everything I wanted in life, a lovely man, health and a future to look forwards to".
She paused again and looked around. The breeze gently moved through the leaves with a sighing sound. "There were others, of course, but not a patch on my Robin!" she said strongly. "And now I have nothing - except the memories this tree holds. If only I could get my hands on that awful man who writes in the paper about the value of the road they are going to build where we are standing now, I would tell him. Has he never loved, has he never lived, does he not know anything about memories? We were not the only ones, you know, I still meet some who came here as Robin and I did. Yes, I would tell him!"
I turned away, sick at heart.
The enquiry into the route of the new by-pass to the village was due to take place shortly, and I wanted to know what it was that motivated her. So it was that I found myself knocking on a cottage door, being received by Mary Smith and then being taken for a walk to the woods.
"I've always loved this place", she said, "it has a lot of memories for me, and for others. We all used it. They called it 'Lovers lane'. It's not much of a lane, and it doesn't go anywhere important, but that's why we all came here. To be away from people, to be by ourselves " she added.
It was indeed pleasant that day and the songs of many birds could be heard. Squirrels gazed from the branches, quite bold in their movements, obviously few people passed this way and they had nothing to fear. I could imagine the noise of vehicles passing through these peaceful woods when the by-pass was built, so I felt that she probably had something there but as I hold strong opinions about the needs of the community over-riding the opinions of private individuals, I said nothing. The village was quite a dangerous place because of the traffic especially for old people and children, their safety was more important to me than an old woman's whims.
"Take this tree", she said pausing after a short while. "To you it is just that, a tree. Not unlike many others here". She gently touched the bark. "Look here, under this branch, what can you see?"
"It looks as if someone has done a bit of carving with a knife" I said after a cursory inspection.
"Yes, that's what it is!" she said softly. "There are letters and a lover's heart".
I looked again, this time more carefully. The heart was still there and there was a suggestion of an arrow through it. The letters on one side were indistinct, but on the other an 'R' was clearly visible with what looked like an 'I' after it. "Some budding romance?" I asked, "did you know who they were?"
"Oh yes, I knew them", said Mary Smith, "it says RH loves MS".
I realised that I could be getting out of my depth, and longed to be in my office, away from here and this old lady, snug, and with a mug of tea in my hand.
She went on …"He had a penknife with a spike for getting stones from a horse's hoof, and I helped him to carve my initials. We were very much in love, but he was going away, and could not tell me what he was involved in the army. I had guessed of course. It was the last evening we ever spent together，because he went away the next day, back to his Unit. "
Mary Smith was quiet for a while, then she sobbed. "His mother showed me the telegram. 'Sergeant R Holmes ….. Killed in action in the 9)invasion of France'".
"'I had hoped that you and Robin would one day get married" she said, "He was my only child, and I would have loved to be a Granny, they would have been such lovely babies'- she was like that! "
"Two years later she too was dead. 'Pneumonia, following a chill on the chest' was what the doctor said, but I think it was an old fashioned broken heart. A child would have helped both of us."
There was a further pause. Mary Smith gently caressed the wounded tree, just as she would have caressed him. "And now they want to take our tree away from me." Another quiet sob, then she turned to me. "I was young and pretty then, I could have had anybody, I wasn't always the old woman you see here now. I had everything I wanted in life, a lovely man, health and a future to look forwards to".
She paused again and looked around. The breeze gently moved through the leaves with a sighing sound. "There were others, of course, but not a patch on my Robin!" she said strongly. "And now I have nothing - except the memories this tree holds. If only I could get my hands on that awful man who writes in the paper about the value of the road they are going to build where we are standing now, I would tell him. Has he never loved, has he never lived, does he not know anything about memories? We were not the only ones, you know, I still meet some who came here as Robin and I did. Yes, I would tell him!"
I turned away, sick at heart.
Ronaldo, King of the World----Biography
Ronaldo Luiz Nazario de Lima1 was born on 22 September 1976 in a poor suburb of Rio de Janeiro2. Like most of his childhood friends, Ronaldo began his soccer career playing barefoot in the streets of his neighborhood. At the age of 14, he joined So Cristovo3 soccer club and only two years later became the star of Cruzeiro Belo Horizonte4 scoring a total of 58 goals in 60 matches and earning himself a reputation for his explosive5 pace and outstanding finishing skills. His goal-scoring record and unusual agility6 led him to be included in the Brazilian World Cup winning team the following year. After the World Cup, many top European football clubs were trying to sign him. Many people, including Brazilian football legend Pelé7, referred to him as the most promising8 footballer of his generation.
Since his transfer to Dutch team PSV Eindhoven9, Ronaldo s biography10 is one of success after success. Two Copa América s11, a UEFA12 Cup, a Dutch Cup, a Spanish League Cup, and two awards as best player in the world, all in the space of two years, are some of Ronaldo s impressive13 achievements. On arrival to Inter-Milan in 1997, Ronaldo became the idol14 of the local fans who refer to him as "il Fenomeno15."
Since the 98 World Cup he has suffered two serious knee injuries that have severely limited his appearances. Just when people began to wonder whether Ronaldo would be able to continue with his football career, he proved to the world that he still could play. In the World Cup held in Korea and Japan, the magical striker16 won the Golden Shoe award and tied Pele s Brazilian record for career World Cup goals with 12. He helped Brazil capture17 its fifth World Cup championship on June 30 with a 2-0 win over Germany. It was the third time that Ronaldo has ever played in the World Cup.
Since his transfer to Dutch team PSV Eindhoven9, Ronaldo s biography10 is one of success after success. Two Copa América s11, a UEFA12 Cup, a Dutch Cup, a Spanish League Cup, and two awards as best player in the world, all in the space of two years, are some of Ronaldo s impressive13 achievements. On arrival to Inter-Milan in 1997, Ronaldo became the idol14 of the local fans who refer to him as "il Fenomeno15."
Since the 98 World Cup he has suffered two serious knee injuries that have severely limited his appearances. Just when people began to wonder whether Ronaldo would be able to continue with his football career, he proved to the world that he still could play. In the World Cup held in Korea and Japan, the magical striker16 won the Golden Shoe award and tied Pele s Brazilian record for career World Cup goals with 12. He helped Brazil capture17 its fifth World Cup championship on June 30 with a 2-0 win over Germany. It was the third time that Ronaldo has ever played in the World Cup.
WHATEVER LOVE MEANS
Although neither or them remembered the occasion, Diana first met her future husband when she was just a baby. It happened during the winter of 1961, when twelve-year-old Charles, Prince of Wales, was visiting his mother's Sandringham retreat.
At the time, your Prince Charles barely glanced at the tiny baby sleeping in her cot. After all, bow could a twelve-year-old boy be interested in babies?
But the Prince would eventually take a very keen interest in this particular baby —it would just take some time.
In fact, it would be sixteen years before Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer took place in the middle of a farmer's field during a shooting party in November 1977.
It was a cold, rainy, bleak afternoon when sixteen-year-old Diana, dressed in a borrowed parka that was too large for her, boots, and blue jeans, crossed the field to meet the heir to the British throne.
It was almost twilight when the two came face to face near Nobottle Woods.
"What a sad man," Diana thought when she first saw him. The future Princess was intrigued to finally meet the most eligible bachelor in England, thought she was not impressed with his five-foot-ten-inch height, thinking to herself that she would tower over him in high heels. But Diana would later say that she admired his beautiful blue eyes.
The Prince later remarked that he thought Diana was "a very jolly and attractive" girl, "full of fun," though Diana herself believed that "he barely noticed me at all."
Diana, it was discovered later, first came to the attention of the royal family when she acted as a bridesmaid for her sister Jane's wedding that April. It was the first major social occasion that Diana attended as a young woman. And many of the royals were surprised at how beautiful and mature the once-gawky girl had become.
Even the Queen Mother. Prince Charles's grandmother, noticed Diana's beauty, grace, and charm. She complimented the Earl on the fine job he had done in bringing Diana up.
A short time later, Prince Charles sent his valet to hand-deliver a formal invitation for Diana to accompany him that very evening to the opera and a latenight dinner at the palace.
Though she was flustered, and the invitation came at such short notice, Diana accepted. She and her roommate, Carolyn Bartholomew, hurried to dress and prepare Diana for her big date. The evening was a success, and an invitation to party on the royal yacht came soon after……
Although she was intimidated by the crowd at Balmoral, Diana was wise enough not to stay in the castle itself. She asked for, and was granted, an invitation to stay with her sister Jane and her young husband at their cottage on the Balmoral estate.
The Prince visited Diana there every day, offering to escort her to a barbecue, or extending an invitation for a long walk in the woods.
When Charles went to Switzerland for a ski vacation, Diana missed him terribly. He called her after a day or two, and told Diana he had something important to ask her.
He arrived home on February, 3, 1981.Three days later, he arranged to see Diana at Windsor Castle. Late that evening, while Prince Charles was showing Diana the nursery, he asked her to marry him.
To his surprise, Diana treated his proposal as a joke, She actually giggled. But soon she could see that Prince Charles was serious. Despite an insistent voice inside her head that told her she would never be Queen, she accepted his proposal.
Diana told Prince Charles over and over that she loved him.
"Whatever love means." Was his reply.
At the time, your Prince Charles barely glanced at the tiny baby sleeping in her cot. After all, bow could a twelve-year-old boy be interested in babies?
But the Prince would eventually take a very keen interest in this particular baby —it would just take some time.
In fact, it would be sixteen years before Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer took place in the middle of a farmer's field during a shooting party in November 1977.
It was a cold, rainy, bleak afternoon when sixteen-year-old Diana, dressed in a borrowed parka that was too large for her, boots, and blue jeans, crossed the field to meet the heir to the British throne.
It was almost twilight when the two came face to face near Nobottle Woods.
"What a sad man," Diana thought when she first saw him. The future Princess was intrigued to finally meet the most eligible bachelor in England, thought she was not impressed with his five-foot-ten-inch height, thinking to herself that she would tower over him in high heels. But Diana would later say that she admired his beautiful blue eyes.
The Prince later remarked that he thought Diana was "a very jolly and attractive" girl, "full of fun," though Diana herself believed that "he barely noticed me at all."
Diana, it was discovered later, first came to the attention of the royal family when she acted as a bridesmaid for her sister Jane's wedding that April. It was the first major social occasion that Diana attended as a young woman. And many of the royals were surprised at how beautiful and mature the once-gawky girl had become.
Even the Queen Mother. Prince Charles's grandmother, noticed Diana's beauty, grace, and charm. She complimented the Earl on the fine job he had done in bringing Diana up.
A short time later, Prince Charles sent his valet to hand-deliver a formal invitation for Diana to accompany him that very evening to the opera and a latenight dinner at the palace.
Though she was flustered, and the invitation came at such short notice, Diana accepted. She and her roommate, Carolyn Bartholomew, hurried to dress and prepare Diana for her big date. The evening was a success, and an invitation to party on the royal yacht came soon after……
Although she was intimidated by the crowd at Balmoral, Diana was wise enough not to stay in the castle itself. She asked for, and was granted, an invitation to stay with her sister Jane and her young husband at their cottage on the Balmoral estate.
The Prince visited Diana there every day, offering to escort her to a barbecue, or extending an invitation for a long walk in the woods.
When Charles went to Switzerland for a ski vacation, Diana missed him terribly. He called her after a day or two, and told Diana he had something important to ask her.
He arrived home on February, 3, 1981.Three days later, he arranged to see Diana at Windsor Castle. Late that evening, while Prince Charles was showing Diana the nursery, he asked her to marry him.
To his surprise, Diana treated his proposal as a joke, She actually giggled. But soon she could see that Prince Charles was serious. Despite an insistent voice inside her head that told her she would never be Queen, she accepted his proposal.
Diana told Prince Charles over and over that she loved him.
"Whatever love means." Was his reply.
Three Passions I have
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a waywa rd course over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy-ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life for a few hours for this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness-that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what-at last-I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine...A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy-ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life for a few hours for this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness-that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what-at last-I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine...A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
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