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我犹豫不决地拨弄了几次地板上的日记本，最终还是打开了它。我快速地翻着书页，寻找着我的名字，确信一定能找到相应的证据。可是当我发现自己的名字时，脸一下子涨得通红。远比我想象得糟糕多了。我的脑袋一阵晕眩，瘫坐在了地板上。既没有阴谋也没有诽谤，日记中记录的仅仅是她对自己的简单陈述，她的人生目标和梦想，其中还有一个对她影响深远的人。我哭了起来。
我就是她心目中的英雄。她钦佩我的个性、我的成就，更具讽刺意味的还有我的正直。她想把我当成楷模。原来，这些年来她一直默默地观察我的声音和行为。我不再读了，结束了我的“罪行”。我花了太多的精力和她作对，而没有去好好了解她。
这么多年来，我一直浪费时间来憎恨一个有魔力的人——并且现在还辜负了她对我的信任。是我自己失去了这么美好的东西，我下定决心再也不犯这样的错误。
看了妹妹日记中诚挚的语言后，裹在我心上的冰已经慢慢融化，我要重新去了解她。 最终，我抛弃了那种不信任，正是它造成了我们之间的隔阂。在那个意义深远的下午，我把洗好的衣服放在一边，站起来准备去找她——这一次是去感受而不是责难，去拥抱而不是争执。无论如何，她是我的妹妹啊。
The Importance of Conscience
Elisha M。 Webster
I was faced with a decision。 While delivering laundry into the appropriate bedrooms； I stumbled upon1 my thirteen…year…old sister’s diary； a modern…day Pandora’s box； suffused with temptation。 what was I to do？ I had always been jealous of my little sister。 Her charming smile； endearing personality and many talents threatened my place as leading lady。 I peted with her tacitly and grew to resent her natural abilities。 I felt it necessary to shatter her shadow with achievements of my own。 As a result； we seldom spoke。 I sought opportunities to criticize her and relished surpassing2 her acevements。 Her diary lay at my feet； and I didn’t think of the result of opening it。 I considered not her privacy； the morality of my actions； nor her consequential pain。 I merely savored the possibility of digging up enough dirt to soil my petitor’s spotless record。 I reasoned my iniquity as sisterly duty。 It was my responsibility to keep a check on her activities。 It would be wrong of me not to。
爱要了解（2）
I tentatively plucked the book from the floor and opened it； fanning through the pages； searching for my name； convinced that I would discover scheming and slander。 As I read； the blood ran from my face。 It was worse than I suspected。 I felt faint and slouched3 to the floor。 There was neither conspiracy nor defamation。 There was a succinct description of herself； her goals and her dreams followed by a short portrayal 4 of the person who has inspired her most。 I started to cry。
I was her hero。 She admired me for my personality； my achievements and；ironically； my integrity。 She wanted to be like me。 She had been watching me for years； quietly marveling over my choices and actions。 I ceased reading； struck with the crime I had mitted。 I had expended so much energy into pushing her away that I had missed out on her。
I had wasted years resenting someone capable of magic—and now I had violated her trust。 It was I who had lost something beautiful； and it was 1 who would never allow myself to do such a thing again。
Reading the earnest words my sister had written seemed to melt an icy barrier around my heart； and I longed to know her again。 I was finally able to put aside5 the petty insecurity that kept me from her。 On that fateful afternoon； as I put aside the laundry and rose to my feet； I decided to go to her—this time to experience instead of to judge； to embrace instead of to fight。 After all； she was my sister。
永相厮守（1）
唐·塞贝特
我和迈克尔几乎没有注意到女服务员走了过来，把盘子放在我们的桌上。我们坐在一家小餐馆里，抛开了纽约市第三街区的喧闹。即使是新端上来的薄饼的香味，也不能打断我们兴奋的、忘我的交谈。事实上，薄饼已经在酸奶酪里泡了好一会儿了。我们聊得太投入，有些乐不思食了。
如果说我们的交流算不上深刻，但一定是生动的。我们笑谈着前天晚上看过的电影，讨论着刚刚结束的文学探讨课上所讲到的课文含义。迈克尔采用将名字变成“迈克尔”，并且拒绝应答“迈克”这个名字的方法来显示自己的成熟，他向我讲述着与这样步入成熟的方法相关故事。那时他是12岁还是14岁？迈克尔记不清了，不过他的确还记得妈妈哭了，并说他成长得太快了。当我们开始吃蓝莓薄饼时，我给他讲了去乡下看望表姐妹们时，和姐姐摘蓝莓的事。我还记得，我总是在返回到家之前就把蓝莓吃光了，姨妈警告我说我的胃会疼痛难忍。当然，我的胃根本没痛。
我们继续愉快地交谈着，我环视了一下餐馆，目光停在墙角处的一张小餐桌上，一对老年夫妇坐在那里。老妇人身上的印花裙子褪了色，就像放在她那过时的手提包上的椅垫一样破旧。老爷子头顶的头发都掉光了，就像他正在慢慢吃着的鸡蛋一样光亮。老妇人也在慢慢地喝着她的麦片粥，整个吃饭的过程近乎乏味。
然而，正是他们旁若无人的静默引起了我的注意。在我看来，有一种忧郁的情绪喷发出来，笼罩了他们所在的角落。当我与迈克尔的交流从欢笑变成低语，从表白到评论时，这对老夫妇的极端沉默还在吸引着我。我想：多么可悲啊，再也无话可说了。难道彼此之间再没有一页没有翻阅过的故事吗？如果换作我们将会怎样？
我和迈克尔买了单，起身离开饭店。但我们走过那对老夫妇坐的角落时，我竟不小心把钱包掉在了地上。当弯腰去捡起它时，我看到桌子下面他们空着的那两只手正温柔地握在一起。他们的手一直握在一起！
我站起身，在这样朴素却深沉的情感举动面前，我觉得自己很卑微，能亲眼目睹已是极大的荣幸了。老人对妻子疲惫的手指的轻轻爱抚，不仅填补了我之前察觉到的所有的冷漠空间，也填满了我的心。他们的静默并不是令人难以忍受的，不像第一次约会时，讲完一句妙语或一段轶事后的那种令人害怕的沉默。正好相反，他们的静默是舒服的、惬意的，是无需言语来表达的温柔的爱。或许，他们采用这种方式来共享清晨的这段时光已经很久了，或许今天同昨天没有什么不同，只是他们平和地对待时光、对待彼此。
当我和迈克尔走出来时，我还在想：如果有一天我们也能像他们这样，也挺好的。或许，这也是一种美。
A Gentle Caress
Don Sibet
Michael and I hardly noticed when the waitress came and placed the plates on our table。 We were seated in a small deli tucked away from the bustle of Third Street； in New York City。 Even the smell of our recently arrived blintzes was no challenge to our excited chatter。 In fact，the blintzes remained slumped in their sour cream for quite some time。 We were eaioying ourselves too much to eat。
Our exchange was lively，if not profound。 We laughed about the movie that we had seen the night before and disagreed about the meaning behind the text we had just finished for our literature seminat。 He told me about the moment when he had taken the drastic step into maturitr by being Michael and refusing to respond to “Mikey”。 Had he been twelve or fourteen？ He couldn’t remember，but he did recall that his mother had cried and said he was growing up too quickly。 As we bit into our blueberry blintzes； I told him about the blueberries that my sister and I used to pick when we went to visit our cousins in the country。 I recalled that I always finished mine before we got back to the house； and my aunt would warn me that I was going to get a very bad stomachache。 Of course； I never did。 txt小说上传分享
永相厮守（2）
As our sweet conversation continued，my eyes glanced across the restaurant，stopping at the small corner booth where an elderly couple sat。 Her floral…print dress seemed as faded as the cushion on which she had rested her worn handbag。 The top of his head was as shiny as the soft…boiled egg on which he very slowly nibbled。 She also ate her oatmeal at a slow； almost tedious pace。
But what drew my thoughts to them was their undisturbed silence。 It seemed to me that a melancholy emptiness permeated their little corner。 As the exchange between Michael and me fluctuated from laughs to whispers； confessions to assessments，this couple’s poignant stillness called to me。 How sad，I thought，not to have anything left to say。 Wasn’t there any page that