how to live on 24 hours a day(一天24小时如何过活)-第5节
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You know you have at least half an hour of security in front of you。 As
your glance lingers idly at the advertisements of shipping and of songs on
the outer pages； your air is the air of a leisured man； wealthy in time； of a
man from some planet where there are a hundred and twenty…four hours a
day instead of twenty…four。 I am an impassioned reader of newspapers。 I
read five English and two French dailies； and the news…agents alone know
how many weeklies； regularly。 I am obliged to mention this personal fact
lest I should be accused of a prejudice against newspapers when I say that
I object to the reading of newspapers in the morning train。 Newspapers are
produced with rapidity； to be read with rapidity。 There is no place in my
daily programme for newspapers。 I read them as I may in odd moments。
But I do read them。 The idea of devoting to them thirty or forty
consecutive minutes of wonderful solitude （for nowhere can one more
perfectly immerse one's self in one's self than in a compartment full of
silent； withdrawn； smoking males） is to me repugnant。 I cannot possibly
allow you to scatter priceless pearls of time with such Oriental lavishness。
You are not the Shah of time。 Let me respectfully remind you that you
have no more time than I have。 No newspaper reading in trains！ I have
already 〃put by〃 about three…quarters of an hour for use。
Now you reach your office。 And I abandon you there till six o'clock。 I
am aware that you have nominally an hour （often in reality an hour and a
half） in the midst of the day； less than half of which time is given to eating。
But I will leave you all that to spend as you choose。 You may read your
newspapers then。
I meet you again as you emerge from your office。 You are pale and
tired。 At any rate； your wife says you are pale； and you give her to
understand that you are tired。 During the journey home you have been
gradually working up the tired feeling。 The tired feeling hangs heavy over
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How to Live on Twenty…Four Hours a Day
the mighty suburbs of London like a virtuous and melancholy cloud；
particularly in winter。 You don't eat immediately on your arrival home。 But
in about an hour or so you feel as if you could sit up and take a little
nourishment。 And you do。 Then you smoke； seriously； you see friends；
you potter； you play cards； you flirt with a book； you note that old age is
creeping on； you take a stroll； you caress the piano。。。。 By Jove！ a quarter
past eleven。 You then devote quite forty minutes to thinking about going to
bed； and it is conceivable that you are acquainted with a genuinely good
whisky。 At last you go to bed； exhausted by the day's work。 Six hours；
probably more； have gone since you left the officegone like a dream；
gone like magic； unaccountably gone！
That is a fair sample case。 But you say： 〃It's all very well for you to
talk。 A man *is* tired。 A man must see his friends。 He can't always be on
the stretch。〃 Just so。 But when you arrange to go to the theatre （especially
with a pretty woman） what happens？ You rush to the suburbs； you spare
no toil to make yourself glorious in fine raiment； you rush back to town in
another train； you keep yourself on the stretch for four hours； if not five；
you take her home； you take yourself home。 You don't spend three…
quarters of an hour in 〃thinking about〃 going to bed。 You go。 Friends and
fatigue have equally been forgotten； and the evening has seemed so
exquisitely long （or perhaps too short）！ And do you remember that time
when you were persuaded to sing in the chorus of the amateur operatic
society； and slaved two hours every other night for three months？ Can you
deny that when you have something definite to look forward to at eventide；
something that is to employ all your energythe thought of that something
gives a glow and a more intense vitality to the whole day？
What I suggest is that at six o'clock you look facts in the face and
admit that you are not tired （because you are not； you know）； and that you
arrange your evening so that it is not cut in the middle by a meal。 By so
doing you will have a clear expanse of at least three hours。 I do not
suggest that you should employ three hours every night of your life in
using up your mental energy。 But I do suggest that you might； for a
commencement； employ an hour and a half every other evening in some
important and consecutive cultivation of the mind。 You will still be left
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How to Live on Twenty…Four Hours a Day
with three evenings for friends； bridge； tennis； domestic scenes； odd
reading； pipes； gardening； pottering； and prize competitions。 You will still
have the terrific wealth of forty…five hours between 2 p。m。 Saturday and 10
a。m。 Monday。 If you persevere you will soon want to pass four evenings；
and perhaps five； in some sustained endeavour to be genuinely alive。 And
you will fall out of that habit of muttering to yourself at 11。15 p。m。； 〃Time
to be thinking about going to bed。〃 The man who begins to go to bed forty
minutes before he opens his bedroom door is bored； that is to say； he is not
living。
But remember； at the start； those ninety nocturnal minutes thrice a
week must be the most important minutes in the ten thousand and eighty。
They must be sacred； quite as sacred as a dramatic rehearsal or a tennis
match。 Instead of saying； 〃Sorry I can't see you； old chap； but I have to run
off to the tennis club；〃 you must say； 〃。。。but I have to work。〃 This； I admit；
is intensely difficult to say。 Tennis is so much more urgent than the
immortal soul。
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How to Live on Twenty…Four Hours a Day
VI REMEMBER HUMAN
NATURE
I have incidentally mentioned the vast expanse of forty…four hours
between leaving business at 2 p。m。 on Saturday and returning to business
at 10 a。m。 on Monday。 And here I must touch on the point whether the
week should consist of six days or of seven。 For many yearsin fact； until
I was approaching fortymy own week consisted of seven days。 I was
constantly being informed by older and wiser people that more work； more
genuine living； could be got out of six days than out of seven。
And it is certainly true that now； with one day in seven in which I
follow no programme and make no effort save what the caprice of the
moment dictates； I appreciate intensely the moral value of a weekly rest。
Nevertheless； had I my life to arrange over again； I would do again as I
have done。 Only those who have lived at the full stretch seven days a week
for a long time can appreciate the full beauty of a regular recurring
idleness。 Moreover； I am ageing。 And it is a question of age。 In cases of
abounding youth and exceptional energy and desire for effort I should say
unhesitatingly： Keep going； day in； day out。
But in the average case I should say： Confine your formal programme
（super…programme； I mean） to six days a week。 If you find yourself
wishing to extend it； extend it； but only in proportion to your wish； and
count the time extra as a windfall； not as regular income； so that you can
return to a six…day programme without the sensation of being poorer； of
being a backslider。
Let us now see where we stand。 So far we have marked for saving out
of the waste of days； half an hour at least on six mornings a week； and one
hour and a half on three evenings a week。 Total； seven hours and a half a
week。
I propose to be content with that seven hours and a half for the
present。 〃What？〃 you cry。 〃You pretend to show us how to live； and you
only deal with seven hours and a half out of a hundred and sixty…eight！ Are
you going to perform a miracle with your seven hours and a half？〃 Well；
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