天堂里的圣徒——他们怎么可能不美好、不纯洁的?不用称赞他们。可是，泥沼里的圣徒——啊，那才是千古奇迹!那才叫人觉得生活是值得留恋的呢。看到罪恶的渊薮中出现崇高的道德;自己打泥沼里挺起身来，眼睛上还挂着泥浆，看到第一眼美，朦胧而又遥远;看到从懦怯、脆弱、邪恶和一切深渊里，产生力量、真诚和崇高的'精神本质——
天堂里的圣徒!——他们不过是圣徒罢了，他们没法不当圣徒。他可是人呢。
资历产阶级全是胆小鬼。他们害怕生活。而你呢，却千方百计地叫我也害怕生活。你希望把我弄得循规蹈矩。你希望把我塞进一个两英尺宽、四英尺长的生活的框框里，在那里，生活的种种价值全是架空、虚伪和庸俗的。
舍弃了对生命的热恋/摆脱了恐惧和希望/我们以简短的献言/感谢冥冥的上苍/幸喜生命总有尽期/死去的长眠不复起/纵使细流常逶迤/也会平安归海洋。
让我在热血沸腾中度此一生/让我在梦想家的醇酒中沉醉/莫让我眼见这副泥塑的肉身/终于以空虚的躯壳毁于泥尘!
一、无烦恼之苦，少贪欲之念。只要心旷神怡，心境开朗，心中就一定会有一片艳阳天。要守住知足，要筑牢堤防。要把握凡事求自然，遇事处泰然，得意寻安然，失意能坦然，曲折是必然，沧桑方悟然。
二、遭受苦难的人在承受痛楚时并不能觉察到其剧烈的程度，反倒是过后延绵的折磨最能使其撕心裂肺。---《红字》
三、总有一天，你会不需要轰轰烈烈的爱情，你想要的只是一个不会离开你的人，冷的时候给你一件外套，胃里难受的时候他会给你一杯热水，难过的时候他会给你一个拥抱，就这么一直陪在你身边，陪你走过每一段路。其实，真正的爱情，不是整天有多爱，而是认真的一句，不离开。
四、花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故纯。做人需淡，淡而久香。不争、不谄、不艳、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若无恙，奈我何其；人若不恋，奈你何伤。痛苦缘于比较，烦恼缘于心。
五、人之所以累，是想要的太多；心之所以烦恼，是放下的太少。不去在意纷扰，不去忧虑明日，放下一切执念，素心如简，待莲花开尽后，便是清欢。人生路上，遇见善良，学会付出；遇见微笑，学会分享；遇见坎坷，学会勇敢。
六、你可以得到爱情，可以得到婚姻，可以得到优质生活；但如果得不到安全感，那这一切又有什么用呢?生活在富足的恐惧中，还不如生活在安定的贫乏里。你以为自己要的是一个爱人，但到最后才会知道，真正想要的，无非是安心。所以，幸福不是努力去爱，而是安心的生活。
七、这个家庭的历史是一架周而复始无法停息的`机器，是一个转动着的轮子，这只齿轮，要不是轴会逐渐不可避免地磨损的话，会永远旋转下去。---《百年孤独》
八、我们有足够的时间，把失败变成成功的资本
九、人生本过客，何必千千结，高处有高处的风光，低处有低处的景致。青春像一条流淌的大河，左岸是对梦想的憧憬与追求，右岸是对现实的抱怨与感慨，流在中间的，有笑声，有泪水。
十、这个世界上有太多我们无能为力的事情。回不去的过去，无法预计的未来。以及那些再也不可能见到的人。
十一、在这人世间，有些路是非要单独一个人去面对，单独一个人去跋涉的，路再长再远，夜再黑再暗，也得独自默默地走下去。
十二、爱是没有界限的，如果我能拥抱一切，那拥抱得笨拙又有什么关系。
十三、生活应该向前看的，只有把自己从过去中解放出来，你前面的脚下才有路。 大舍大得，小舍小得，不舍不得。生活是没有捷径的，它考验的是你的恒心与耐力，只要你多坚持一下，多忍耐一会，不悲叹过去，不荒废现在，不惧怕未来，一切就会在你的掌握之中。
十四、每当我追溯自己的青春年华时，那些日子就像是暴风雪之晨的白色雪花一样，被疾风吹得离我而去。---《洛莉塔》
十五、你有一处建在房子里面的小池塘吗？在那个小池塘里，你可以随时观察水中生物生活的每一个片断。---《昆虫记》
十六、书读的越多而不加思考，你就会觉得你知道得很多；而当你读书而思考得越多的时候，你就会越清楚地看到，你知道得很少。——伏尔泰
十七、我有所念人，隔在远远乡。我有所感事，结在深深肠。
十八、一个人只要有意志力，就能超越他的环境。---《马丁.伊登》
十九、幸福，其实很简单。当我失落、当我伤心、当我洛泪，你会走到我身边给我一个拥抱，毫不犹豫。说一万句爱，可能还比不上一个拥抱更实在。把心靠近一点，就是最好的表白。
二十、不要疑惑为什么别人会一直伤害你，问问你自己为何你一直允许这种事情发生。
二十一、已经活了七十二岁，依然像是昨天的事：居民点的林阴小路，在歇晌的时间，白人居住区，道旁开满金风花的大街，阗无行人。---《物质生活》
二十二、不是不追求，只是不强求。人生拥有了阳光我们会发现天更蓝了，云更白了，风更轻了，生活是那样的美好。人生多拾一抹书香，我们会理解生活更多的意义，更多一些自主，更多一些幸福。
二十三、念书不能增添智慧。---《痛症楼》
二十四、我看到许多人在还很年轻时就“老”了。“老”并不是生理机能的退化，而更是心理上的不长进，开始退缩在日复一日的单调重复中，不再对新事物有好奇，不再有梦想，不再愿意试探自己潜在的各种可能。
To my memory, most of his works deal romantically with the overwhelming power of nature and the struggle for survival such as Love of Life, Law of Life, To Build a Fire, and the White Silence. In his novel--the Sea-Wolf, Spencerian Evolutionism and Nietzschean Philosophy are told by the words of Wolf Larson. As his experience of an oyster pirate, a gold-seeker, a newspaper correspondent and a war correspondent, histories, romantic adventures with realistic setting and character can be found in most of his stories. He is especially famous for description of animals, men and nature, but the novel Martin Eden is quite different. He wrote love and its destroy.
When I read Martin Eden, something reminded me of another famous character—John Christopher. Although Jack London and Roman Rolland are totally different writers, I sometimes really find something similar of the two geniuses.
Both of them were of talent. Their life used to be with tears, sorrow, disappointment, loneliness and heartbreaks, but they won the reputation and respect of general public at last. When they were young, they were both pure, passionate, innocent and idealist. They adhere to their art as the truth of life; they were attacked by neighboring people and satirize by barbed critics; they were fed up with failure but never stopped marching; they both fell in love and both of them were hurt by love; they found the precious friendship and then lost it; they hated their former works which they used to regard as the outstanding masterpieces; they never stopped self-criticized in their growth; they met some people who helped them in a silent way; sometimes they were a little bit radical, wide and overconfident, but all the time they were kind and sincere; they usually deeply suffered from their mistakes; they are apparently selfish because of their spirits of self-sacrifice.
The two energetic young fantasts shared their art of life but the endings were far from the same. John Christopher got his truth while Martin Eden turned to be a tragedy. Sometimes I questioned myself that what is the cross diverging their destiny.
A man’s fate is determined by his heredity, environmental factors and those occasional cases. The later two points maybe the answers. Martin Eden’s suicide is not because of despair of literature, but because of despair of people. The despair of love, of humanity, and of social reality destroyed his hope of life.
