强人！一针见血啊。

好犀利的视角。很有意思.

我也觉得爱一个女人最好的方式，应该给她婚姻。

写得真好看，忍不住在网上又找到一篇：

倪震先生:

我今年三十歲,和女朋友拍拖七年了,同居也超過三年,近來我看見她,討厭的感覺比愛還多,我沒有鬧交,只是天天都對著她很悶,我很想家裡得我一個人。她不知道我這麼想,還叫我結婚,我應該點做?

reply:

短短電郵,已感受到的不開心和無奈,讓我和你分享一段經驗。

我有個失眠的晚上,拿起本佛經看,看到天明。太陽光透過窗簾射進來，很是刺眼，我忽有所悟。我覺得陽光刺眼，是因為我的狀態，不是因為陽光的強弱。假如我精神飽滿，一定不會討厭同樣的陽光，反而會覺得很溫暖很可愛，正適合朝氣勃勃開始一天。跟著我又聽到窗外傳來我最怕的修路聲，我便想，會不會我在不同的狀態下，也會對修路聲有不同的反應呢？我叫不到街上的修路工人停手，但假如調節到自己的心可以令耳朵好過一些，也是好事呀。我開始想像，怎樣才會覺得修路聲不討厭，不吵耳，什至可愛呢？我想到了：假如我是個聾子，突然從一片無止境的死寂中聽到修路聲，那修路聲於我無異天籟，我肯定會聽得感激流涕，就怕下一刻又聽不到任何聲音。那豈不是我會討厭修路聲，只因為我身在褔中，擁有正常的聽覺？我幻想著自己就個剛得回聽覺的失聰者，投入在興奮感恩的心情中，慢慢地，修路聲又真的沒那麼討厭起來，什至，好像有點可愛。我心中泛起一陣喜樂，從來不能在噪音中入睡的我，竟然笑著睡了。原來外在的一切不變，我們心內一念之差，竟然也可令感覺產生驚天動地，匪夷所思的變化。我決定，以後要在控制自己的心上下工夫，令自己的世界變得更加美麗，更加可愛。

我希望你也能改變自己的心，令一切更加美好。懂得珍惜，是找到快樂的第一步。你現在覺得一個人會比較快樂，但假如你得了重病，會不會就安於現狀，又或者覺得有女朋友在家照顧你是種福氣呢？

#1 給所有不相信愛是恆久的人

　　五十四年前，她第一眼看到他，靈魂便被他攝住，就知他是自己終身的男人。他們墮入愛河，兩年後，結為夫婦。

　　起初，他未成名，只是個電視劇的小角色，後來，機會來了，他成了大銀幕的男主角，拍了多套電影。名氣，沒有影響夫妻的感情，他兩的愛有增無減，她總是含情脈脈凝望著他，他總是給她寫情書。

　　在她的支持下，他做了個重要的決定：棄影從政。後來，他做了加洲洲長。

　　再後來，他以六十九歲高齡，成為美國史上年紀最大的總統，在總統就職典禮上，所有人都可以看見他們如初戀情侶的眼神交流。

　　他遇刺，子彈差二點五公分就打中心臟，在醫院，不忘對憂心的她說：「親愛的，對不起，我忘了閃避。」十二天後他康復出院，她才笑得出來。

　　結婚三十周年紀念，他在空軍一號上唸出愛的宣言：「沒有妳，我不會是個完整的人。妳，根本是我的生命。」她聽到，面上每一條皺紋都笑得好甜。

　　每年妻子的生日，他會給她母親送花，只為感激她生了個這麼好的女兒來。

　　十年前，退了休的他患上老人癡呆症，他勇敢地公開承認，自己已步入人生的黃昏；只擔心，她往後的日子難捱。

　　她不怕捱，只怕看著他受苦。

　　這十年，他由一個偉人變回一個小孩，最後更這身邊的她也不認得，她都寸步不離，熬了過來。

　　他去了，她哀痛，但舒了一口氣：「他不用再受苦了。」

　　他們的女兒說：「最後一刻，昏迷多天的父親張開了眼睛，直望著母親，眼神很亮、很藍，充滿愛，一點也不呆滯。」

　　凝視了愛妻最後一眼，他放心地呼出最後一口氣。他從來沒有擔心過自己，他知她一定會在身邊，他只擔心她。

　　這老人癡呆的十年，竟替一段完美愛情劃上句號。

　　多謝列根，多謝南茜，為我們留下了甘苦與共，莫失莫忘的愛情典範。

　　也讓我們知道，只要肯真心去愛，用心去愛身邊的人，我們不用是明星，或總統，再平凡，也可以和他們一樣，擁有最不朽、最閃爍的愛。

「２００４年６月１２日，看著丈夫的遺體終於要入土為安，她再冷靜不了，一下子崩潰下來，淚流滿面，撫棺哭泣。五十二年的婚姻，就隨著泣不成聲的一句「我愛你」，天人永別。」

传一张作者的火爆照片以飨读者，哈哈！倪震的身材还细不错的！

果然火爆啊....

没有想到他还挺有才华

开始有点喜欢他了

嗯，喜欢。好看。

家庭果然很重要，那样的父亲，那样的姑姑。

阿。。这个很倒胃口阿

I just read the story in English.

Very gut-wrenching...Recommend everyone to read...

http://jimwillis0.tripod.com/tiergarten/id21.html

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

The End