He watched the patch of green and sunlight on the distant hill, the promise of spring in a world that looked as if no grass or bud would ever function again. He smiled eagerly— and when the patch vanished, he felt a stab of humiliation, at his own eagerness, at the desperate way he had wanted to hold it.
他望著遠處山丘上的那叢綠色和陽光，在一個似乎沒有花草能夠再次如期開放的世界上，它們是春天的承諾。他笑了——而當這一叢消失的時候，他感到他被自己的渴望和想要抓住它的迫不及待所帶來的恥辱刺中了。
All right — he thought, turning away from the window— he would concede that attacks of loneliness had begun to strike him at times; but it was a loneliness to which he was entitled, it was hunger for the response of some living, thinking mind. He was so tired of all those people, he thought in contemptuous bitterness; he dealt with cosmic rays, while they were unable to deal with an electric storm
好吧——他想，從窗前掉過身來——他可以承認有時孤獨已經開始擊中了他，但那孤獨是他的權利，是他對某些有生命、有思想的心靈的渴望。他在輕蔑的苦楚中想，那些人實在是讓他受夠了；他對付的是宇宙射線，而他們卻對付不了電力事故。
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