I've been spared a lot, one of the blessed of the earth, at least one of its lucky, that privileged handful of the dramatically prospering, the sort whose secrets are asked, like the hundred-year-old man. There is no secret, of course; most of what happens to us is simple accident. Highish birth and a smooth network of appropriate connection like a tea service written into the will. But surely something in the blood too, locked into good fortune's dominant genes like a blast ripening in a time bomb. Set to go off, my good looks and intelligence, yet exceptional still, take away my mouthful of silver spoon and lapful of luxury. Something my own, not passed on or handed down, something seized, wrested—my good character, hopefully, my taste perhaps. What's mine, what's mine? Say taste—the soul's harmless appetite.

　　我一直活得無(wú)憂無(wú)慮，深得上帝垂愛(ài)，至少算個(gè)幸運(yùn)兒，少數(shù)人才享有的尊榮富貴，我垂手得之。就像百歲人瑞總有人討教，我的秘訣也總有人探詢。當(dāng)然，秘訣談不上，人間之事大多純屬偶然。高貴的出身、順暢的關(guān)系網(wǎng)有如憑遺囑繼承的茶具，隨我所用。當(dāng)然，我的幸運(yùn)也有某種與生俱來(lái)的因素，一種血液里固有的強(qiáng)勢(shì)基因;它像定時(shí)炸彈，到時(shí)就會(huì)爆炸。一旦爆炸，我出類拔萃的相貌和智慧將會(huì)使口銜銀匙、滿堂金玉的身世完全微不足道。我的成功源自我自己特有的東西，不是祖?zhèn)鞯母Ｊa，是某種我拼命抓住、努力得到的東西——我良好的性格或品味。那么，究竟什么才是我自己特有的東西?是什么呢?是品味吧一一那種無(wú)害的心靈欲求。