我爱音乐,纵然看不懂简谱;不懂那些跳动在五线谱上蝌蚪般的音符如何成为一首悠扬的曲子;不懂贝多芬、莫扎特、巴赫等音乐巨匠何以洗净一生铅华,玩转于音符间,创造出《命运》等激荡人心的巨作,但是这份肤浅的爱仍伴我度过了许多个春秋。我爱文学,纵然没有锱铢必较般去研究文字;没有去认真地分析字、词、段是如何巧妙地构成了一篇美文的细胞和灵魂;没有去研究莎翁、托尔斯泰、鲁迅 I love music, even though I can not read the notation; I do not understand how the tadpole-like notes that beat in the stave become a melodious song. Why do not I understand Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and other masters of music? Notes, to create “destiny” and other exciting masterpiece, but this superficial love is still with me spent a lot of spring and autumn. I love literature, even though there is no more than necessary to study the text; not to carefully analyze the words, paragraphs, how cleverly formed a cell and soul of the United States; did not study Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Lu Xun