建议先读原稿。当然，你可直奔后附译文。
President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates:
The first thing I would like to say is “thank you.”
Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honor, but the weeks of fear and nausea I have endured at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight.
A win-win situation!
Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and convince myself that I am at the world's largest Gryffindor reunion.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation.
The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock.
Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said.
This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, the law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the “gay wizard” joke, I've come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step to self improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today.
I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that have expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers.
On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure.
And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These may seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become.
Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels.
However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that would never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.
I know the irony strikes with the force of a cartoon anvil now, but . . .
So they hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature.
A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages.
Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.
I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day.
Of all the subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view.
There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.
What is more, I cannot criticize my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty.
They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience.
Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships.
Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticized only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
Now I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known heartbreak, hardship or heartache.
Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure.
You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success.
Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far removed from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it.
So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale.
An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless.
The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun.
That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution.
I had no idea then how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
So why do I talk about the benefits of failure?
Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential.
I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me.
Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena where I believed I truly belonged.
I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.
And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable.
It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all—in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations.
Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way.
I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive.
You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity.
Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.
So given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement.
Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two.
Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
Now you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so.
Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense.
Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation.
In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books.
This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs.
Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working at the African research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.
There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them.
I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends.
I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to speak against their governments.
Visitors to our offices included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had left behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland.
He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him.
He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child.
I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since.
The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her.
She had just had to give him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power.
I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.
And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilizes thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have.
The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners.
Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet.
My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, human beings can learn and understand, without having experienced.
They can think themselves into other people's places.
Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral.
One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathize.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all.
They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are.
They can refuse to hear screams or peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do.
Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters.
They are often more afraid.
What is more, those who choose not to empathize enable real monsters.
For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.
That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives.
It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives?
Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities.
Even your nationality sets you apart.
The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower.
The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders.
That is your privilege, and your burden.
If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change.
We do not need magic to transform our world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished.
I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21.
The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life.
They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of real trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters.
At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
So today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships.
And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives. Thank you very much.
福斯特(女)主席,哈佛董事会和监事会的董事们监事们,老师们,自豪的父母们,而且,最重要的是,毕业生们:
首先我想说的是“谢谢你们！“
不仅哈佛给我一个非凡的荣誉,而且一想到给这个典礼做演说就会恐惧和(紧张得)泛恶心，我忍受了数周的折磨使我减肥了。
一个双赢的局面！
现在我所要做的是深呼吸,眯着眼看看红色的横幅，然后说服自己我是在世界上最大的格林芬多团聚。
【“尽管我不信在我的书里有某种魔法，但是我的确相信当你读过一本好书会发生一些出神入化的事情。”——罗琳】
做毕业典礼演说是一项伟大的职责;因此我苦思冥想着直到我的思绪回到了自己的那次毕业典礼上。
那天做毕业典礼演讲的是英国著名的哲学家Baroness Mary Warnock。
回想起她的演讲对我写它(哈利波特系列)的帮助很大,毕竟事实证明我根本没记住她所说的任何一个词。
这个令我释然的发现可以让我毫无畏惧的开展我可能无意中会影响你放弃前途的职业——为(自己)在商业、法律或政治领域中成为基佬巫师而兴高采烈。
你听懂了?如果若干年后你所能记得的只有“基佬巫师”的笑话,那么我就得(向你)展现出Baroness Mary Warnock的高瞻远瞩。够得着的目标是——首先修炼自我。
事实上,为了今天该对你说的，我已经身心俱疲。
我曾扪心自问过自己，在我的毕业典礼上我希望懂得些什么,那些曾经苦学了21年的重要课程在弹指一挥间过期了。
我得到了两个答案。
在此美好的一天,当我们济济一堂庆祝你们的学术成就之际,我决定和你们谈谈失败的好处。
当你有时在被称作为“现实生活”的门槛前执迷不悟的时候,我要向你们颂扬一下想象力的重要性。
这些选择似乎是不切实际或自相矛盾的,但请先容我讲完。
在她已成豆腐渣的42岁年纪去回顾我刚毕业时21岁的豆蔻年华，是略微不太舒服的经历。
我的前半生，在平衡我的雄心壮志和小确幸之间艰难的挣扎着。
我确信我唯一想做的事情就是写小说。
然而，我的父母出身于大萧条的年代，两人都没有读过大学，在他们的眼中，我激进的想入非非是搞笑的个人怪癖，那是还不了贷款，付不起可靠的养老金的。
现在我对理想与现实差距的讽刺打击有感同身受。但是那时……
他们想让我拿到职业教育学位，我想学习英国文学。
回想双方是妥协却没有人满意，我去学现代语言了。
我父母的车几乎没到路尽头的转角处,我就扔掉了德语，翻过古典的走廊，落荒而逃。
我已不记得我告诉过父母我在学习古典文学;他们可能会发现第一次毕业典礼挺不错的。
当成为保障行政主管洗手间的关键时，我认为他们很难从这个星球上的所有学科中叫出一门(学科)比希腊神话更没用。
这里我要插入一句，我要澄清的是我并不归咎于我父母的观点。
责备父母将你带错了方向总会有个到时候的日子，当你成为老司机的那一刻起,你将承担手握方向盘的责任。
更重要的是,我不能批评我的父母要我过上好日子的希望。
我贫穷他们就自怜自艾，我非常同意他们的观点,贫穷不是高贵的经历。
贫穷会将恐惧、压力,有时候甚至是沮丧繁衍生息。这意味着千年的屈辱和艰辛。
凭借自己的努力脱贫致富是引以自豪的事情,但只有傻瓜会“有情饮水饱”，把贫穷当浪漫。
【“王侯将相，宁有种乎。”——罗琳】
我最害怕自己在你们这个的年龄不是贫穷,而是失败。
在你们这个年纪,尽管在大学里有各式各样的懈怠,在那里我泡在咖啡吧里写故事，听讲座的时间太少,但我有一些通过考试的窍门,多年来,一直是我在生活中在同龄人中衡量成功的标尺。
现在我不想呆滞到去假设,因为你们年轻、有天份、受过良好的教育,你们从来都不知道心碎,艰难或心痛。
天赋和智商并不能让你抵御命运的无常,我丝毫不认为这里的每个人已经享受波澜不惊的恩典和满足。
然而,你们毕业于哈佛的事实表明,你们没有失败的刻骨铭心。
你可能对失败和成功患得患失，恐惧与渴望交织。
事实上,你们对失败的概念可能离普通人对成功的想法不太远,尽管你们已经展翅高飞。
最终，我们都由自己决定失败的成分，但是如果你不够坚定，世界是非常渴望给你一套(世俗的)评价标准。
因此我认为公平地讲，以任何一个传统的方法,仅仅在我毕业之后的七年里,我算是碌碌无为。
【“有志者事竟成。”——罗琳】
异常短暂的婚姻使我崩溃，我丢了工作，只留下一个孤独的父母，我无家可归，眼下的英国再穷也不会无家可归。
老无所养，孤苦伶仃的恐惧都已成为现实，无论怎么看，我知道这是我最凄惨的失败。
现在,我不打算站在这里告诉你们，失败是多么有趣。
这段时间我的生活是黑暗的,我不知道会有什么新闻报道可以表现为一种童话的决定。
我不知道这(失败)隧道会延伸多长持续多久，任何光明的尽头是希望而不是现实。
那么为什么我还要谈论失败的好处呢?
因为失败意味着剥离掉那些不必要的东西。
我不再装逼，并开始直接竭尽全力于要完成的我所在意的仅有的工作。
要不是在灯火阑珊处柳暗花明,我可能永远不会发现在那个志在必得的竞技场上锐意进取的决心。
我是自由的，因为我最深重的恐惧已经实现了，我仍旧活着，我仍然有一个令我倾慕的女儿，还有一部老打字机和一个大大的主意。
所以低谷成为我重建生活的坚实基础。
【“低谷成为我重建生活的坚实基础。”——罗琳】
你可能永远不会有我那么惨,但有些生活中的失败是不可避免的。
不可能没有失败,除非你生活如此谨慎以至于根本没有生活过一样，在这种情况下，你败给了不负责任。
失败给了我无法通过考试而获得的内在安全感。
失败教会了我有关自己的事情可以另辟蹊径。
我发现我有比我曾疑虑的更加强大的意志，更加训练有素；我还找到了比红宝石还要有价值的朋友。
吃一堑长一智的学问意味今后你的生存能力更加稳固可靠。
你永远不会真正了解自己，或者你的人际关系的力量，直到两者都到了接受逆境考验的时候。
这样的学问是一个真实的礼物，为了这一切赢得艰难，这比我曾经获得的任何资格都要值得。
所以给我一个时光机，我会告诉21岁的自己，个人的幸福在于深入生活而不是一张成绩单。
你的资历、你的简历都不是你的生活，尽管你还会遇到很多像我这个年纪以及岁数更大还在混淆这两者的人。
世事无常，超出任何人的控制。谦逊能够使你在沧海桑田中幸免于难。
现在你可能会认为我选择了第二个主题，想象力的重要性，由于它扮演重建我的生活部分，但并非完全如此。
虽然我会不遗余力地为床边故事的价值做辩护，但我已学会给更宽广感受的想象力定价。
想象力不仅是人类特有的能力预见无所不能，因此那是所有发明和创新的源泉。
在其无可辩驳的极其变革性和启示性的能力中，它能使我们同情那些从来没有与我们分享的人们。
【“我们不需要用魔法改变世界，我们已经承载了自己内心所需的所有力量——我们有力量想象得更好。”——罗琳】
其中一个最具影响力的生活经历发生在哈利波特之前，尽管在我随后写的那些书中多次提到。
这一发觉成为了我最早从事的全职工作之一。
虽然我利用午餐时间里溜号悄悄写故事，但是我付了租金，我20出头就在总部位于伦敦的大赦国际下的非洲研究部门工作。
在那儿我的狭小的工作室内，我得匆忙读字迹潦草的从极端政权偷运出来的信件，那些男女冒着牢狱之灾的风险而向外的世界告知他们那里正在发生什么。
我看到那些人的照片，那些人被绝望的家人和朋友送来已经消失得无影无踪。
我读着被酷刑折磨的受害者的证据和他们受伤的照片。我打开过手写的简要判决、处决、绑架和强奸的目击证词。
我的许多同事曾经是政治犯,他们或背井离乡，或流离失所，或逃亡流放，只因他们鲁莽的反对他们的政府。
参观我们办公室的人包括那些提供信息，或试图找出他们落下的那些人发生了什么。
我永远不会忘记非洲酷刑受害者,一个不比我年长的年轻人，毕竟他在家乡遭受了折磨后成了精神病患者。
他面对摄像机镜头控诉加在他身上的暴行时不禁瑟瑟发抖。
他比我高一个头，看上去却像一个孩子一样脆弱。
我的工作是护送他回到地铁站之后，这个生活被残暴摧毁的男人礼貌地握着我的手，祝我前程似锦。
只要我活着我就能记得走在空无一人的走廊时，突然听到从一个封闭的门后面传来一声我闻所未闻的痛苦和恐惧的尖叫。
门开着，研究者伸出她的头，跟我说跑出去给坐在她旁边的年轻人弄杯热饮料。
她刚刚给他的消息是他的母亲没逮捕并处决了，他自己直言不讳的反对他国家政权的报复。
在我20岁出头的工作周的每一天，我提醒自己生活在一个民选政府的国家是多么难以置信的幸运，那里法律陈述和公开审判每个人的权利。
每一天，我看到更多罪证是人类对自己的同类施加折磨以获得或维持权力。
我开始做噩梦，书面上的噩梦，我看到的一些事情,听到得和阅到的。
然而，我也在大赦国际学到了更多的有关我以前不知道的人类的善良。
大赦动员成千上万的从来没有为他们的信仰而受到折磨或监禁的人扮演他们争取利益的代表。
人类同情的力量，引发集体行动，拯救生命,解放囚犯。
普通人，他们的个人健康和安全保证,大量聚集在一起来拯救他们不认识的人,永远不会满足。
我小小的参与这个过程是我一生中最卑微的和鼓舞人心的经历之一。
不同于在这个星球上任何其他物种，人类可以学习和理解没有经历过的事情。
他们可以为别人设身处地的着想。
当然，这是一种力量，就像我虚构魔法的招牌，它在道德上是中立的。
【“在我们内心深处都有光明和黑暗，我们选择哪部分起作用，我们实际上就是谁。”——罗琳】
一个可能会利用这种能力去操纵或控制,就像是理解或同情。
而很多人宁可不运用他们的想象力。
他们选择在自己经验的范围内保持舒适，从来没有不安的惊奇除他们之外生在别处的人是什么感受。
他们可以拒绝听到尖叫或同辈坐牢；他们可以封闭任何痛苦不触及他们自身的思想和心灵；他们可以拒绝知道。
我可能会被怂恿去嫉妒那些可以这样生活的人，除了那些我认为他们做的噩梦不比我少的那些人。
选择在狭小的空间生活会导致精神上的广场恐怖症的状态，从而带来了他们自己的恐惧。我认为肆意无趣的人会看到更多的怪物。
他们往往更加害怕。
更重要的是，那些选择不去同情的人能成为真正的怪物。
因为我们自己没有犯下彻底罪恶，通过自己的冷漠，我们与之狼狈为奸。
18岁那年，在古典文学走廊的尽头我所冒险的我学过的很多事情之一，寻找一些我无法定义的，这是希腊作家普鲁塔克所写的：我们内心所获得的将会改变外在的现实。
这是一个惊人的声明，但在我们生活的每一天都被证明了千百遍。
它表示，在某种程度上，我们不可避免的与外界联系，这一事实的存在仅仅在于我们触摸别人的生活。
但能有多少，你作为2008年的哈佛毕业生，能够触碰别人的生活?
你的智慧、你努力工作的能力，你赢得了，得到了很好的教育，给你独一无二的地位和独特的职位。
甚至你们的国籍也让你与众不同。
绝大多数你属于这个世界上唯一的超级大国。
你投票的方式、你的生活方式、你抗议的方式、你施加给政府的压力有着超乎寻常的影响。
这是你的特权，也是你的负担。
如果您选择使用你的地位和影响力提高你的声音代表那些没有发言权的人；如果你选择与不仅与强大也是无能为力的人感同身受；如果你保留的能力，想象自己的生活没有你优渥的人，那么不仅你骄傲的家庭会庆祝你的存在，而且你帮助改变了普罗大众的现实。
我们不需要用魔法改变世界，我们已经承载了自己内心所需的所有力量——我们有力量想象得更好。
【“如果只有一个人还记得开灯，即使在最黑暗的时光里也会有幸福。”——罗琳】
我几乎要完成了。
对你们我有一个最后的希望，是一些有关我在21岁的事情。
毕业那天与我坐在一起的朋友成为了我生命中的朋友。
他们是我孩子的教父教母，我真正麻烦他们的时候，当我把他们的名字给死神的时候，那些足够善良的人没起诉我。
在我们的毕业典礼上，我们受到洪荒感情的约束，受我们已分享经历的一去不复返的光阴约束,而且,当然,我们举行一些摄影的知识证明如果我们中间有人竞选总理将是异常宝贵的。
所以今天，我希望你能拥有同样的友谊。
明天，我希望即使你不记得我的一个词,你仍然要记得那些塞内卡，那些古老的罗马人当我逃离古典文学走廊上时遇到的人，退出职业生涯阶梯，去寻找古老的智慧：
生活是一个故事：重要的不是有多久，而是有多美好。
我希望你们所有人都活得很好。
非常感谢大家。
