剩下的就是怎样活的问题了，这却不是在某一个瞬间就能完全想透的、不是一次性能够解决的事，怕是活多久就要想它多久了，就像是伴你终生的魔鬼或恋人。所以，十五年了，我还是总得到那古园里去，去它的老树下或荒草边或颓墙旁，去默坐，去呆想，去推开耳边的嘈杂理一理纷乱的思绪，去窥看自己的心魂。十五年中，这古园的形体被不能理解它的人肆意雕琢，幸好有些东西是任谁也不能改变它的。譬如祭坛石门中的落日，寂静的光辉平铺的一刻，地上的每一个坎坷都被映照得灿烂；譬如在园中最为落寞的时间，一群雨燕便出来高歌，把天地都叫喊得苍凉；譬如冬天雪地上孩子的脚印，总让人猜想他们是谁，曾在哪儿做过些什么、然后又都到哪儿去了；譬如那些苍黑的古柏，你忧郁的时候它们镇静地站在那儿，你欣喜的时候它们依然镇静地站在那儿，它们没日没夜地站在那儿，从你没有出生一直站到这个世界上又没了你的时候；譬如暴雨骤临园中，激起一阵阵灼烈而清纯的草木和泥土的气味，让人想起无数个夏天的事件；譬如秋风忽至，再有一场早霜，落叶或飘摇歌舞或坦然安卧，满园中播散着熨帖而微苦的味道。味道是最说不清楚的，味道不能写只能闻，要你身临其境去闻才能明了。味道甚至是难于记忆的，只有你又闻到它你才能记起它的全部情感和意蕴。所以我常常要到那园子里去。

　　All that’s left is the question of how to live, but this is not something you can think through in an instant, not something that you can solve once and for all: you have to think about it your whole life, however long that is. It’s a demon or a lover who is your lifelong companion. And so, for fifteen years, I had to go to this old park, go under the old trees or next to the neglected weeds or beside the dilapidated walls, sit in silence or think blankly, break through the feelings of chaotic disarray that were all around me, and peep at my soul. In fifteen years, people who didn’t understand this old park had wantonly altered some of its design and structure. Fortunately, there were some things that no one could change about it—for example, when the setting sun moves to the spot inside the stone arch of the altar, its rays spread across the ground and each rough spot on the ground is resplendent in the sunshine; or at the loneliest time in the park, a flock of swallows comes out and sings, their desolate song filling the space between heaven and earth; or the footprints children make in the snow in the wintertime, always leading people to wonder who they are, what they are doing there, and where they are going; for example, the dark old cypresses: when you’re feeling melancholy, they are standing there sedately, and when you’re feeling happy, they are still standing there sedately—they’ve stood there since before you were born and will go on standing there until you are no longer in this world; or a sudden rainstorm in the park touches off a pure green and muddy earth scent, giving rise to memories of countless summer occurrences; or the autumn wind suddenly arrives, and there is an early frost, and falling leaves or tottering singing and dancing or calm and quiet sleep: the park is pervaded with an atmosphere of tranquility and a little bitterness. Atmosphere is the most difficult thing to explain. My words can’t convey this atmosphere; you have to be there and smell it for yourself. It’s hard to remember, too: only when you smell it again will it bring back all the feelings connected with it. And so I must often go back to this park。

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