这周我已经读了迪安借给我的三本书。一个就像一个玫瑰园——非常宜人,但有点太甜了。其中一个就像山上的松林——充满香脂和汤味——我喜欢它,但它却让我充满了一种绝望。它写得太美了——我确信我永远写不出这样的文章。还有一个——它就像一个猪圈。迪安错误地给了我那个。
(I have been reading three books Dean lent me this week. One was like a rose garden--very pleasant, but just a little too sweet. And one was like a pine wood on a mountain--full of balsam and tang--I loved it, and yet it filled me with a sort of despair. It was written so beautifully--I can never write like that, I feel sure. And one--it was just like a pig-sty. Dean gave me that one by mistake.)