An Illusion 一种错觉
William S. Maugham 威廉. S. 毛姆
It is an illusion that youth is happy,
an illusion of those who have lost it;
but the young know they are wretched,
for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them,
and each time they come in contact with the real they are bruised and wounded.
It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy;
for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection,
and the conversation of their elders,
who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness,
prepare them for an unreal life.
They must discover for themselves
that all they have read
and all they have been told
are lies, lies, lies;
and each discovery
is another nail drivens into the body
on the cross of life.
The strange thing is that
each one who has gone through that bitter disillusionment
add to it in his turn,
by the power within him which is stronger than himself.