this realization, as he contemplated them over his book on that Friday evening, that saddened him. For their youth was gone, they were old now, and when something was gone it made no difference whether you had ever had it or not. It was truly as thougt it had never been. A memory was unsatisfying solace. His mother, in speaking of herself, would often say with wry humour, "Downhill. We're going downhill now." They had been young, they would e to die, and it would all be finished, a drop of water losing its identity in the sea.菲利普不能想象和描画父母年轻时代,父母也确实年轻过。正是意识到这一点,使菲利普陷入伤感。就在这个周五的晚上,他的目光离开书页,凝视着他的父母。他伤感,因为他们韶华已逝,青春不再,他们现在是老了。事情就是这样,有的东西逝去了就是逝去了,不管你是不是曾经拥有过,有没有过都已经毫无意义,因为事实就是如此:这美好的东西确实是不在了的。而记忆,不是一个令人满意的安慰。母亲常常用苦涩的幽默口吻这样说:“下坡路,我们是在走下坡路啦。”他们从前年轻,他们将来会去世,一切都会结束,一滴水回到它的海里,失去它的过去、现在、将来的印记,从而彻底消失。
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