mansion1 with thick red walls. I know every stone of it,” says the Wind. “I saw it when it was part of the castle of Marck

Stig on the promontory2. But the castle was obliged to be pulled down, and the stone was used again for the walls of a new

mansion on another spot—the baronial residence of Borreby, which still stands near the coast. I knew them well, those noble

lords and ladies, the successive generations that dwelt there; and now I’m going to tell you of Waldemar Daa and his

daughters. How proud was his bearing, for he was of royal blood, and could boast of more noble deeds than merely hunting the

stag and emptying the wine-cup. His rule was despotic: ‘It shall be,’ he was accustomed to say. His wife, in garments

embroidered3 with gold, stepped proudly over the polished marble floors. The tapestries4 were gorgeous, and the furniture of

costly5 and artistic6 taste. She had brought gold and plate with her into the house. The cellars were full of wine. Black,

fiery7 horses, neighed in the stables. There was a look of wealth about the house of Borreby at that time. They had three

children, daughters, fair and delicate maidens8—Ida, Joanna, and Anna Dorothea; I have never forgotten their names. They were

a rich, noble family, born in affluence9 and nurtured10 in luxury.

“Whir-r-r, whir-r-r!” roared the Wind, and went on, “I did not see in this house, as in other great houses, the high-

born lady sitting among her women, turning the spinning-wheel. She could sweep the sounding chords of the guitar, and sing to

the music, not always Danish melodies, but the songs of a strange land. It was ‘Live and let live,’ here. Stranger guests

came from far and near, music sounded, goblets11 clashed, and I,” said the Wind, “was not able to drown the noise.

Ostentation12, pride, splendor13, and display ruled, but not the fear of the Lord.

”It was on the evening of the first day of May,” the Wind continued, “I came from the west, and had seen the ships

overpowered with the waves, when all on board persisted or were cast shipwrecked on the coast of Jutland. I had hurried

across the heath and over Jutland’s wood-girt eastern coast, and over the island of Funen, and then I drove across the great

belt, sighing and moaning. At length I lay down to rest on the shores of Zeeland, near to the great house of Borreby, where

the splendid forest of oaks still flourished. The young men of the neighborhood were collecting branches and brushwood under

the oak-trees. The largest and dryest they could find they carried into the village, and piled them up in a heap and set them

on fire. Then the men and maidens danced, and sung in a circle round the blazing pile. I lay quite quiet,” said the Wind, “

but I silently touched a branch which had been brought by one of the handsomest of the young men, and the wood blazed up

brightly, blazed brighter than all the rest. Then he was chosen as the chief, and received the name of the Shepherd; and

might choose his lamb from among the maidens. There was greater mirth and rejoicing than I had ever heard in the halls of the

rich baronial house. Then the noble lady drove by towards the baron’s mansion with her three daughters, in a gilded14 carriage

drawn15 by six horses. The daughters were young and beautiful—three charming blossoms—a rose, a lily, and a white hyacinth.

The mother was a proud tulip, and never acknowledged the salutations of any of the men or maidens who paused in their sport

to do her honor. The gracious lady seemed like a flower that was rather stiff in the stalk. Rose, lily, and hyacinth—yes, I

saw them all three. Whose little lambs will they one day become? thought I; their shepherd will be a gallant16 knight17, perhaps

a prince. The carriage rolled on, and the peasants resumed their dancing. They drove about the summer through all the

villages near. But one night, when I rose again, the high-born lady lay down to rise again no more; that thing came to her

which comes to us all, in which there is nothing new. Waldemar Daa remained for a time silent and thoughtful. ‘The loftiest

tree may be bowed without being broken,’ said a voice within him. His daughters wept; all the people in the mansion wiped

their eyes, but Lady Daa had driven away, and I drove away too,” said the Wind. “Whir-r-r, whir-r-r-!

“I returned again; I often returned and passed over the island of Funen and the shores of the Belt. Then I rested by

Borreby, near the glorious wood, where the heron made his nest, the haunt of the wood-pigeons, the blue-birds, and the black

stork18. It was yet spring, some were sitting on their eggs, others had already hatched their young broods; but how they

fluttered about and cried out when the axe19 sounded through the forest, blow upon blow! The trees of the forest were doomed20.

Waldemar Daa wanted to build a noble ship, a man-of-war, a three-decker, which the king would be sure to buy; and these, the

trees of the wood, the landmark21 of the seamen22, the refuge of the birds, must be felled. The hawk23 started up and flew away,

for its nest was destroyed; the heron and all the birds of the forest became homeless, and flew about in fear and anger. I

could well understand how they felt. Crows and ravens24 croaked25, as if in scorn, while the trees were cracking and falling

around them. Far in the interior of the wood, where a noisy swarm26 of laborers28 were working, stood Waldemar Daa and his three

daughters, and all were laughing at the wild cries of the birds, excepting one, the youngest, Anna Dorothea, who felt grieved

to the heart; and when they made preparations to fell a tree that was almost dead, and on whose naked branches the black

stork had built her nest, she saw the poor little things stretching out their necks, and she begged for mercy for them, with

the tears in her eyes. So the tree with the black stork’s nest was left standing29; the tree itself, however, was not worth

much to speak of. Then there was a great deal of hewing30 and sawing, and at last the three-decker was built. The builder was a

man of low origin, but possessing great pride; his eyes and forehead spoke31 of large intellect, and Waldemar Daa was fond of

listening to him, and so was Waldemar’s daughter Ida, the eldest32, now about fifteen years old; and while he was building the

ship for the father, he was building for himself a castle in the air, in which he and Ida were to live when they were

married. This might have happened, indeed, if there had been a real castle, with stone walls, ramparts, and a moat. But in

spite of his clever head, the builder was still but a poor, inferior bird; and how can a sparrow expect to be admitted into

the society of peacocks?

“I passed on in my course,” said the Wind, “and he passed away also. He was not allowed to remain, and little Ida got

over it, because she was obliged to do so. Proud, black horses, worth looking at, were neighing in the stable. And they were

locked up; for the admiral, who had been sent by the king to inspect the new ship, and make arrangements for its purchase,

was loud in admiration33 of these beautiful horses. I heard it all,” said the Wind, “for I accompanied the gentlemen through

the open door of the stable, and strewed34 stalks of straw, like bars of gold, at their feet. Waldemar Daa wanted gold, and the

admiral wished for the proud black horses; therefore he praised them so much. But the hint was not taken, and consequently

the ship was not bought. It remained on the shore covered with boards,—a Noah’s ark that never got to the water—Whir-r-r-r

—and that was a pity.

“In the winter, when the fields were covered with snow, and the water filled with large blocks of ice which I had blown

up to the coast,” continued the Wind, “great flocks of crows and ravens, dark and black as they usually are, came and

alighted on the lonely, deserted35 ship. Then they croaked in harsh accents of the forest that now existed no more, of the many

pretty birds’ nests destroyed and the little ones left without a home; and all for the sake of that great bit of lumber36,

that proud ship, that never sailed forth37. I made the snowflakes whirl till the snow lay like a great lake round the ship, and

drifted over it. I let it hear my voice, that it might know what the storm has to say. Certainly I did my part towards

teaching it seamanship.

“That winter passed away, and another winter and summer both passed, as they are still passing away, even as I pass

away. The snow drifts onwards, the apple-blossoms are scattered38, the leaves fall,—everything passes away, and men are

passing away too. But the great man’s daughters are still young, and little Ida is a rose as fair to look upon as on the day

when the shipbuilder first saw her. I often tumbled her long, brown hair, while she stood in the garden by the apple-tree,

musing39, and not heeding40 how I strewed the blossoms on her hair, and dishevelled it; or sometimes, while she stood gazing at

the red sun and the golden sky through the opening branches of the dark, thick foliage41 of the garden trees. Her sister Joanna

was bright and slender as a lily; she had a tall and lofty carriage and figure, though, like her mother, rather stiff in

back. She was very fond of walking through the great hall, where hung the portraits of her ancestors. The women were

represented in dresses of velvet42 and silk, with tiny little hats, embroidered with pearls, on their braided hair. They were

all handsome women. The gentlemen appeared clad in steel, or in rich cloaks lined with squirrel’s fur; they wore little

ruffs, and swords at their sides. Where would Joanna’s place be on that wall some day? and how would he look,—her noble

lord and husband? This is what she thought of, and often spoke of in a low voice to herself. I heard it as I swept into the

long hall, and turned round to come out again. Anna Dorothea, the pale hyacinth, a child of fourteen, was quiet and

thoughtful; her large, deep, blue eyes had a dreamy look, but a childlike smile still played round her mouth. I was not able

to blow it away, neither did I wish to do so. We have met in the garden, in the hollow lane, in the field and meadow, where

she gathered herbs and flowers which she knew would be useful to her father in preparing the drugs and mixtures he was always

concocting43. Waldemar Daa was arrogant44 and proud, but he was also a learned man, and knew a great deal. It was no secret, and

many opinions were expressed on what he did. In his fireplace there was a fire, even in summer time. He would lock himself in

his room, and for days the fire would be kept burning; but he did not talk much of what he was doing. The secret powers of

nature are generally discovered in solitude45, and did he not soon expect to find out the art of making the greatest of all

good things—the art of making gold? So he fondly hoped; therefore the chimney smoked and the fire crackled so constantly.

Yes, I was there too,” said the Wind. “‘Leave it alone,’ I sang down the chimney; ‘leave it alone, it will all end in

smoke, air, coals, and ashes, and you will burn your fingers.’ But Waldemar Daa did not leave it alone, and all he possessed46

vanished like smoke blown by me. The splendid black horses, where are they? What became of the cows in the field, the old

gold and silver vessels47 in cupboards and chests, and even the house and home itself? It was easy to melt all these away in

the gold-making crucible48, and yet obtain no gold. And so it was. Empty are the barns and store-rooms, the cellars and

cupboards; the servants decreased in number, and the mice multiplied. First one window became broken, and then another, so

that I could get in at other places besides the door. ‘Where the chimney smokes, the meal is being cooked,’ says the

proverb; but here a chimney smoked that devoured49 all the meals for the sake of gold. I blew round the courtyard,” said the

Wind, “like a watchman blowing his home, but no watchman was there. I twirled the weather-cock round on the summit of the

tower, and it creaked like the snoring of a warder, but no warder was there; nothing but mice and rats. Poverty laid the

table-cloth; poverty sat in the wardrobe and in the larder50. The door fell off its hinges, cracks and fissures51 made their

appearance everywhere; so that I could go in and out at pleasure, and that is how I know all about it. Amid smoke and ashes,

sorrow, and sleepless52 nights, the hair and beard of the master of the house turned gray, and deep furrows53 showed themselves

around his temples; his skin turned pale and yellow, while his eyes still looked eagerly for gold, the longed-for gold, and

the result of his labor27 was debt instead of gain. I blew the smoke and ashes into his face and beard; I moaned through the

broken window-panes, and the yawning clefts54 in the walls; I blew into the chests and drawers belonging to his daughters,

wherein lay the clothes that had become faded and threadbare, from being worn over and over again. Such a song had not been

sung, at the children’s cradle as I sung now. The lordly life had changed to a life of penury55. I was the only one who

rejoiced aloud in that castle,” said the Wind. “At last I snowed them up, and they say snow keeps people warm. It was good

for them, for they had no wood, and the forest, from which they might have obtained it, had been cut down. The frost was very

bitter, and I rushed through loop-holes and passages, over gables and roofs with keen and cutting swiftness. The three high-

born daughters were lying in bed because of the cold, and their father crouching56 beneath his leather coverlet. Nothing to

eat, nothing to burn, no fire on the hearth57! Here was a life for high-born people! ‘Give it up, give it up!’ But my Lord

Daa would not do that.

‘After winter, spring will come,’ he said, ‘after want, good times. We must not lose patience, we must learn to

wait. Now my horses and lands are all mortgaged, it is indeed high time; but gold will come at last—at Easter.’ #p#

“I heard him as he thus spoke; he was looking at a spider’s web, and he continued, ‘Thou cunning little weaver58, thou

dost teach me perseverance59. Let any one tear thy web, and thou wilt60 begin again and repair it. Let it be entirely61 destroyed,

thou wilt resolutely62 begin to make another till it is completed. So ought we to do, if we wish to succeed at last.’

“It was the morning of Easter-day. The bells sounded from the neighboring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice in the

sky. The master of the castle had watched through the night, in feverish63 excitement, and had been melting and cooling,

distilling64 and mixing. I heard him sighing like a soul in despair; I heard him praying, and I noticed how he held his breath.

The lamp burnt out, but he did not observe it. I blew up the fire in the coals on the hearth, and it threw a red glow on his

ghastly white face, lighting65 it up with a glare, while his sunken eyes looked out wildly from their cavernous depths, and

appeared to grow larger and more prominent, as if they would burst from their sockets66. ‘Look at the alchymic glass,’ he

cried; ‘something glows in the crucible, pure and heavy.’ He lifted it with a trembling hand, and exclaimed in a voice of

agitation67, ‘Gold! gold!’ He was quite giddy, I could have blown him down,” said the Wind; “but I only fanned the glowing

coals, and accompanied him through the door to the room where his daughter sat shivering. His coat was powdered with ashes,

and there were ashes in his beard and in his tangled68 hair. He stood erect69, and held high in the air the brittle70 glass that

contained his costly treasure. ‘Found! found! Gold! gold!’ he shouted, again holding the glass aloft, that it might flash

in the sunshine; but his hand trembled, and the alchymic glass fell from it, clattering71 to the ground, and brake in a

thousand pieces. The last bubble of his happiness had burst, with a whiz and a whir, and I rushed away from the gold-maker’s


“Late in the autumn, when the days were short, and the mist sprinkled cold drops on the berries and the leafless

branches, I came back in fresh spirits, rushed through the air, swept the sky clear, and snapped off the dry twigs72, which is

certainly no great labor to do, yet it must be done. There was another kind of sweeping73 taking place at Waldemar Daa’s, in

the castle of Borreby. His enemy, Owe Ramel, of Basnas, was there, with the mortgage of the house and everything it

contained, in his pocket. I rattled74 the broken windows, beat against the old rotten doors, and whistled through cracks and

crevices75, so that Mr. Owe Ramel did not much like to remain there. Ida and Anna Dorothea wept bitterly, Joanna stood, pale

and proud, biting her lips till the blood came; but what could that avail? Owe Ramel offered Waldemar Daa permission to

remain in the house till the end of his life. No one thanked him for the offer, and I saw the ruined old gentleman lift his

head, and throw it back more proudly than ever. Then I rushed against the house and the old lime-trees with such force, that

one of the thickest branches, a decayed one, was broken off, and the branch fell at the entrance, and remained there. It

might have been used as a broom, if any one had wanted to sweep the place out, and a grand sweeping-out there really was; I

thought it would be so. It was hard for any one to preserve composure on such a day; but these people had strong wills, as

unbending as their hard fortune. There was nothing they could call their own, excepting the clothes they wore. Yes, there was

one thing more, an alchymist’s glass, a new one, which had been lately bought, and filled with what could be gathered from

the ground of the treasure which had promised so much but failed in keeping its promise. Waldemar Daa hid the glass in his

bosom76, and, taking his stick in his hand, the once rich gentleman passed with his daughters out of the house of Borreby. I

blew coldly upon his flustered77 cheeks, I stroked his gray beard and his long white hair, and I sang as well as I was able, ‘

Whir-r-r, whir-r-r. Gone away! Gone away!’ Ida walked on one side of the old man, and Anna Dorothea on the other; Joanna

turned round, as they left the entrance. Why? Fortune would not turn because she turned. She looked at the stone in the walls

which had once formed part of the castle of Marck Stig, and perhaps she thought of his daughters and of the old song,

‘The eldest and youngest, hand-in-hand,Went forth alone to a distant land’.

These were only two; here there were three, and their father with them also. They walked along the high-road, where once

they had driven in their splendid carriage; they went forth with their father as beggars. They wandered across an open field

to a mud hut, which they rented for a dollar and a half a year, a new home, with bare walls and empty cupboards. Crows and

magpies78 fluttered about them, and cried, as if in contempt, ‘Caw, caw, turned out of our nest—caw, caw,’ as they had done

in the wood at Borreby, when the trees were felled. Daa and his daughters could not help hearing it, so I blew about their

ears to drown the noise; what use was it that they should listen? So they went to live in the mud hut in the open field, and

I wandered away, over moor79 and meadow, through bare bushes and leafless forests, to the open sea, to the broad shores in

other lands, ‘Whir-r-r, whir-r-r! Away, away!’ year after year.”

And what became of Waldemar Daa and his daughters? Listen; the Wind will tell us:

“The last I saw of them was the pale hyacinth, Anna Dorothea. She was old and bent80 then; for fifty years had passed and

she had outlived them all. She could relate the history. Yonder, on the heath, near the town of Wiborg, in Jutland, stood the

fine new house of the canon. It was built of red brick, with projecting gables. It was inhabited, for the smoke curled up

thickly from the chimneys. The canon’s gentle lady and her beautiful daughters sat in the bay-window, and looked over the

hawthorn81 hedge of the garden towards the brown heath. What were they looking at? Their glances fell upon a stork’s nest,

which was built upon an old tumbledown hut. The roof, as far as one existed at all, was covered with moss82 and lichen83. The

stork’s nest covered the greater part of it, and that alone was in a good condition; for it was kept in order by the stork

himself. That is a house to be looked at, and not to be touched,” said the Wind. “For the sake of the stork’s nest it had

been allowed to remain, although it is a blot84 on the landscape. They did not like to drive the stork away; therefore the old

shed was left standing, and the poor woman who dwelt in it allowed to stay. She had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or

was it perchance her reward for having once interceded85 for the preservation86 of the nest of its black brother in the forest of

Borreby? At that time she, the poor woman, was a young child, a white hyacinth in a rich garden. She remembered that time

well; for it was Anna Dorothea.

“‘O-h, o-h,’ she sighed; for people can sigh like the moaning of the wind among the reeds and rushes. ‘O-h, o-h,’

she would say, ‘no bell sounded at thy burial, Waldemar Daa. The poor school-boys did not even sing a psalm87 when the former

lord of Borreby was laid in the earth to rest. O-h, everything has an end, even misery88. Sister Ida became the wife of a

peasant; that was the hardest trial which befell our father, that the husband of his own daughter should be a miserable89 serf,

whom his owner could place for punishment on the wooden horse. I suppose he is under the ground now; and Ida—alas90! alas! it

is not ended yet; miserable that I am! Kind Heaven, grant me that I may die.’

“That was Anna Dorothea’s prayer in the wretched hut that was left standing for the sake of the stork. I took pity on

the proudest of the sisters,” said the Wind. “Her courage was like that of a man; and in man’s clothes she served as a

sailor on board ship. She was of few words, and of a dark countenance91; but she did not know how to climb, so I blew her

overboard before any one found out that she was a woman; and, in my opinion, that was well done,” said the Wind.

On such another Easter morning as that on which Waldemar Daa imagined he had discovered the art of making gold, I heard

the tones of a psalm under the stork’s nest, and within the crumbling92 walls. It was Anna Dorothea’s last song. There was no

window in the hut, only a hole in the wall; and the sun rose like a globe of burnished93 gold, and looked through. With what

splendor he filled that dismal94 dwelling95! Her eyes were glazing96, and her heart breaking; but so it would have been, even had

the sun not shone that morning on Anna Dorothea. The stork’s nest had secured her a home till her death. I sung over her

grave; I sung at her father’s grave. I know where it lies, and where her grave is too, but nobody else knows it.

“New times now; all is changed. The old high-road is lost amid cultivated fields; the new one now winds along over

covered graves; and soon the railway will come, with its train of carriages, and rush over graves where lie those whose very

names are forgoten. All passed away, passed away!

“This is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. Tell it better, any of you, if you know how,” said the Wind; and

he rushed away, and was gone.#p#









































































































































































终於?小女孩忍不住擦亮一根火柴。在那麼冷的天气?虽然只是小小的火光却像火炉一样温暖。火柴很快就熄了?她一根接著一根的擦亮?她每擦亮一根火柴就想到一件美好的事情。 小女孩再擦亮时却看见了奶奶。



在安徒生70岁时?不幸因為生病而去世了。 我非常喜欢安徒生的作品?也很喜欢帮安徒生画图的插画家几米的绘画风格?特别是几米的卖火柴的小女孩。

一看到那幅画?我就瞧见一隻大黑猫在下著大雪的夜晚?观看著小女孩的所做所為。几米在那幅画上面画了一个卖火柴的女孩?她冷得发抖?后面还有一隻趴在地上不怕冷并保护著小女孩的大黑猫。黑猫的旁边有7根蜡烛?其中还有一根已经熄灭了耶! 这幅画让我觉得卖火柴的女孩很可怜?并且非常同情她的遭遇。

























































在安徒生的所有童话中,我最喜欢《沼泽王的女儿》了。故事中埃及国王的小女儿为了治好父亲的病,不远万里飞到了千里迢迢之外的沼泽地。可恨的是她的两个姐姐,明明知道妹妹没有 “天鹅羽衣”飞不起来,也取不到医治父亲重病的莲花。却故意把她的“翅膀”带走,眼睁睁地看着她沉到沼泽地下。幸好小女儿的善良、机智、勇敢感动了沼泽王和鸟夫妇,他们帮助她回到埃及、治好了国王的病。而两位自私、歹毒的姐姐,也被赶出了埃及,得到了应有的下场。安徒生这篇故事大概是想告诉我们孝敬父母、惩罚坏人的道理吧。可惜安徒生已经去世了,故事中要说的不过是他当时的幻想。要是他的活到现在,该有多好。埃及国王的小女儿就可以坐在家里,点互联网找到全世界最好的医生了。还可以派人开飞机去把医生接过来。而歹毒的那两个姐姐,人们可以拨打110,叫警察叔叔把她们给抓起来,再由法院判她们坐牢,让她们得到应有的惩罚。






汉斯·克里斯蒂安·安徒生,丹麦作家,诗人,因为他的童话故事而世界闻名。他最著名的童话故事有《小锡兵》、《冰雪女王》、《拇指姑娘》、《卖火柴的小女孩》、《丑小鸭》和《红鞋》等。安徒生生前曾得到皇家的致敬,并被高度赞扬为给全欧洲的一代孩子带来了欢乐。 安徒生是一位伟大的童话作家,他被尊“为现代童话之父”,“世界童话创始人”。他的父亲是个穷鞋匠,曾自愿服役,抗击拿破仑的侵略,于1816年病故。母亲是洗衣工,后来改嫁。





张晓风曾说:“如果有人5岁了,还没有倾听过安徒生,那么他的童年少了一段温馨;如果有人15岁了,还没有阅读过安徒生,那么他的少年少了一道银灿;如果有人25岁了,还没有细味过安徒生,那么他的青年少了辉煌;如果有人35岁了,还没有了解过安徒生,那么他的壮年少了一种丰饶;如果有人45岁了,还没有思索过安徒生,那么他的中年少了一点沉郁;如果有人55岁了,还没有复习过安徒生,那么他的晚年少了一份悠久。” 以小儿之目观察万物,而以诗人之笔写之,故美妙自然,可称神品,真前无古人,后亦无来者也。——周作人 世界上最伟大的童话作家。他的伟大就在于以他的童心与诗才开辟一个童话的天地给文学以一个新的式样与新的珠宝。——郑振铎 安徒生是丹麦发现儿童的人。——勃兰兑斯 他像阿拉丁一样,手举着神灯,让每一个读到他童话的儿童在童话王国中梦想成真;他是一个诗人,却成为了童话之父;他生在丹麦,却成为了世界的儿子;他忧郁敏感自卑冷淡,却能为孩子们编织出许许多多绮丽梦幻的纯真之梦。是的,他就是安徒生。他用自己的童话来温暖人间,用自己的童话来揭露黑暗,用自己的童话来编织美梦,用自己的童话来警醒世人。




西方学者伽达默尔曾经有过这样的感叹:"当今的时代是一个乌托邦精神已经死亡的时代,过去的乌托邦一个个失去了他们神秘的光环,而新的、能鼓舞、激励人们为之奋斗的乌托邦再也不会产生。这正是我们这个世界的悲剧"。[5] 沉醉于形而下的卑微愉悦中的当代人很少对精神、价值、终极关怀、真理、美善等的超越性价值发生兴趣。在当代的中国,随着社会经济、文化生活的变化,人们的精神、情感世界也在发生着一系列的变化,出现的是种种不同程度上的感觉迟钝、情感迷乱、心态浮躁的精神现象。面对着这一系列的精神流失,尤其是当今天少年儿童的精神世界也遭受这样的折磨时,创作于一百多年前的安徒生童话在当代仍然深受读者喜爱就不再显得那么令人意外了。因为从安徒生童话中我们可以看到安徒生洞悉人性的崇高和变异,他在童话作品中对恒定人性、对人的精神和价值的讨论为挽留我们这个世界的那些深刻、高贵、永恒的精神和价值提供了帮助。

1.生命的光辉。《海的女儿》是安徒生众多的童话作品中我最喜欢的一部,这个有着悲剧本质的童话毁灭了人生中有价值的东西。小人鱼的可爱,在于她身上闪烁的金子般的品格,她有着纯真善良,忘我无私的人类精神品质中最为难能可贵的元素。她曾两度给予王子生命:第一次是在她15岁生日时,她忘我地救起了因大风暴引发的海难事故而落水的王子;第二次是她所爱的王子爱上了别的女子,她要是心生妒忌,想独占她心爱的人,她完全可以用姐姐们给的短刀杀死王子,然而她没有这样做。"她向尖刀看了一眼,接着又把眼睛转向王子;他正在睡梦中喃喃地呼唤着新嫁娘的名字。他思想中只有她存在。刀子在小人鱼手里发抖。但是正在这时候,她把这刀子远远地向浪花里扔去。刀子沉下的地方,浪花就发出一道红光,好象有许多血滴溅出了水面。" [6] 随即,她自己跳进海里,化成了泡沫。"给人以死亡还是给人以生命,两者之间,小人鱼选择了给人以生命。小人鱼用自己的毁灭让人性绽放出了夺目的光彩,获得了最后的精神的圆满。" [7] 这对精神麻木的现代人,无疑有着很大的精神上的触动。从另一个角度,我们也可以有这样的思索:小人鱼为了争取到人间来付出了那么大的牺牲而终不可得,那么我们现今生活在人间世界的人,应当如何珍惜自己的生命,并利用自己的生命造福于人类?

2.人性的顽强。《丑小鸭》在安徒生童话中传播最广,它曾被解读为阶级歧视和资本主义社会人与人之间冷漠关系的写照。然而抛开这些阶级的因素,我们不难发现《丑小鸭》所蕴涵的人文精神:"一种肯定个体自我,强调平等与奋斗和实现人生价值的内在意识"。[8] 因而,它很容易的就与世上奋斗着的人们产生了广泛的共鸣。学者竺洪波提出了"共名说",认为"丑小鸭"已经成为一种"共名",认为《丑小鸭》的意义"绝不仅仅限于反映当时欧洲社会的某些现实,也绝对不仅限于作为作者安徒生人生道路的单一象征。它最大程度地写出了整个世界、全体人类生活的某些普遍性,写出了所有曾经有过自卑而摆脱了自卑、达到理想境界的一种心路历程。" [9] 无论是当代人,还是安徒生笔下的丑小鸭,内心深处都存在着种种的渴望——渴望得到更多人的理解,渴望得到社会的承认和接纳,渴望被欣赏,而成功之路不可避免的充满了种种艰辛和磨难,这就需要一种素质,即坚韧的意志和百折不挠的品格,需要在心中燃烧起一团不灭之火,纵使冷漠、无情象冰雹一样袭来你也仍要希望着、忍耐着、奋斗着因为成功本来就不是什么免费的午餐。这一点着实为处于激烈的社会竞争中心态浮躁的当代人提供了不小的助益,正是人性所具有的顽强让我们有了克服各种困难的勇气,当我们面对各种压力的时候,丑小鸭让我们更为了解自己。


4.人性的弱点。并不都是人性光辉的一面,《皇帝的新装》揭示的是有关人性弱点的永恒主题。我们可以看到,安徒生在这部作品中没有直接流露出对于当下现实激愤不满的激烈情绪,他对于皇帝的态度是远距离的、居高临下的,他所揭示的,是关于人性的普遍的弱点,潘延在其《对安徒生研究的回顾与反思》一文中这样解读《皇帝的新装》:"人们由于怯懦,由于害怕自己的行动跟?所有的人'不一样而遭到排斥,往往不敢说出真相,这种害怕被集体抛弃的?从众心理'是普遍存在的,所以为新装唱赞美词辞的不单是那些不愿失去权位的王宫大臣,还有芸芸众生的平民百姓。只有不曾入世即不需承担社会角色心理重负的孩子才能说出真相。诚实作为人类向善的人生信念早已渗透入我们的文化血脉,一旦真实心态与理想信念发生冲突必然是个尴尬的、痛苦的困境,所以安徒生笔下的皇帝和那些大臣不仅是愚蠢的、可笑的,还是可悲可怜的。身为读者的我们在哈哈一笑之余是否警惕自己离这等可悲可怜的角色并不遥远。" [10] 这一解读,让麻木的现代人从另一面镜子中看到自己的影子,让人在另一个环境中反省自身的愚昧和可笑。现代人不曾察觉的自身的弱点被安徒生以如此诙谐的方式一点而破。




业精于勤而荒于嬉,行成于思而毁于随。 --韩愈

天才就是无止境刻苦勤奋的能力。 --卡莱尔

聪明出于勤奋,天才在于积累。 --华罗庚



勤劳一日,可得一夜安眠;勤劳一生,可得幸福长眠 --达·芬奇(意大利)形成天才的决定因素应该是勤奋 ——郭沫若

人的大脑和肢体一样,多用则灵,不用则废 -茅以升


灵感不过是“顽强的劳动而获得的奖赏” --列宾


成功=艰苦劳动+正确方法+少说空话 --爱因斯坦