I could see that all this seemed cold comfort， and even as I spoke I realized that it afforded a somewhat gray prospect. When later I came to think it over， it occurred to me that the greatest compensation of old age is its freedom of spirit. I suppose that is accompanied by a certain indifference to many of the things that men in their prime think important. Another compensation is that it liberates you from envy， hatred and malice. I do not believe that I envy anyone. I have made the most I could of such gifts as nature provided me with； I do not envy the success of others. I am quite willing to vacate the little niche I have occupied so long and let another step into it. I no longer mind what people think of me. They can take me or leave me. I am mildly pleased when they appear to like me and undisturbed if I know they don，t. I have long known that there is something in me that antagonizes certain persons； I think it very natural， no one can like everyone； and their ill will interests rather than discomposes me. I am only curious to know what it is in me that is antipathetic to them. Nor do I mind what they think of me as a writer. On the whole I have done what I set out to do， and the rest does not concern me. I have never much cared for the notoriety which surrounds the successful writer and which many of us are simple enough to mistake for fame， and I have often wished that I had written under a pseudonym so that I might have passed through the world unnoticed. I did indeed write my first novel under one， and only put my own name to it because my publisher warned me that the book might be violently attacked and I did not wish to hide myself under a madeup name. I suppose few authors can help cherishing a secret hope that they will not be entirely forgotten the moment they die， and I have occasionally amused myself by weighing the chances I have of survival for a brief period...
I have been asked on occasion whether I would like to live my life over again. On the whole it has been a pretty good life， perhaps better than most people，s， but I should see no point in repeating it. It would be as idle as to read again a detective story that you have read before. But supposing there were such a thing as reincarnation， belief in which is explicitly held by three quarters of the human race， and one could choose whether or no one would enter upon a new life on earth， I have in the past sometimes thought that I should be willing to try the experiment on the chance that I might enjoy experiences which circumstances and my own idiosyncrasies， spiritual and corporeal， have prevented me from enjoying， and learn the many things that I have not had the time or the occasion to learn. But now I should refuse. I have had enough. I neither believe in immortality nor desire it. I should like to die quickly and painlessly， and I am content to be assured that with my last breath my soul， with its aspirations and its weaknesses， will dissolve into nothingness. I have taken to heart what Epicurus wrote to Menoeceus： “Become accustomed to the belief that death is nothing to us. For all good and evil consists in sensation， but death is deprivation of sensation. And therefore a right understanding that death is nothing to us makes the mortality of life enjoyable， not because it adds to it an infinite span of time， but because it takes away the craving for immortality. For there is nothing terrible in life for the man who has truly comprehended that there is nothing terrible in not living.”
中年，老年
我想我一向是比多数人都更加意识到自己的年龄的。我的青年时期已经不知不觉地在我的身边溜走，而过去经常压在我心头的却是我一天天变老的感觉，就我的年龄而论，我已经阅历不少，也到过很多地方，又因我曾经相当广泛地阅读过许多书籍，我的脑子常常考虑一些超过我年龄的事情，我似乎总比我的同龄人更老一些，但是我真的体会到自己已经不再是一个年轻人，那还是1914年战争爆发以后的事。当时我十分惊讶地发现，一个四十岁的人就已经老了。可我还安慰自己，说这只是对一个军事人员而言。但是不久以后，我又经历了一件事，使我对这个问题再无可怀疑了。我一直在同一位我认识了多年的妇女和她的十七岁的侄女一起吃午饭。吃完饭以后，我们雇了一辆出租车汽车到什么地方去。那位妇女先上车，然后她的侄女上去。可是这位侄女却坐在一张折叠椅上，把后面她阿姨旁边的空位子留给我坐。这是出于青年人对于一个不复年轻的绅士的礼貌（这是和妇女的优先权利相对立的）。我意识到了她是把我当作一个上了年纪的人而加以尊敬的。
认识到你对青年人来说已经不是他们同辈中人，这是很不愉快的。你已经属于另一代人了。在他们看来，你的赛跑已经完结，他们可以尊敬你，钦佩你，但你已经和他们分开来；最终他们总会觉得跟他们的同龄人在一起，比跟你在一起更加愉快，更有意思。
但是中年也有它的补偿。青年的手和脚都被公众舆论束缚桎梏。中年却享受到了自由。我记得我在离开中学时曾对自己说过：“从今以后，我可以高兴什么时候起来就什么时候起来，高兴什么时候上床睡觉就什么时候上床睡觉了。”这当然有些夸大，很快我就发现，在文明人的拘束生活中，只允许有限制的独立自由。每当你有了一个固定的目标，你就必须牺牲一些自由去实现这个目标。但当你到了中年，你就会发现，为了实现你心目中的目标，究竟值得牺牲多少自由。当我还是青少年时，我深为我的羞怯所苦，但中年却在很大程度上使我在这方面得到解脱。我在体格上从来不很强壮，走路太多使我感到疲乏，但我还是走过来了，因为我不好意思承认我的弱点。我现在没有这样的感觉了，也免去了很多不愉快。我一向不喜欢冷水，但是多少年来我都洗冷水澡，到冰冷的海水里洗浴，只是因为我要跟别人一样。我从前还常常从使我神经紧张的高台跳水。因为我打牌、下棋、玩球不如别人而感到很难过。当我对事情什么也不知道时，我也不好意思承认我的无知。直到我的年纪相当大了，我才发现，说个“我不知道”原来是多么容易。我觉得到了中年，没有人期望我步行二十五英里，或是打一局临时迎战的高尔夫球，或是从三十英尺高处跳水。这一切都很好，使得生活愉快。但我已经不在乎这些了。而正是这些使得青年不快活，急切地要去跟别人一样。这样也使得中年还可以忍受，它已经跟自己取得和解了。
昨天我年满七十了。每当一个人进入下一个十年期的时候，很自然他要把它当作一件很重要的事来看待，尽管这也许不尽合理。我三十岁的时候，我哥哥对我说：“现在你已经不再是一个孩子了，你是一个成年人了，你也得像一个成年人。”我四十岁的时候，曾经对自己说：“这是青年时期的结束。”在我五十岁生日那天我又说过：“欺骗我自己是没有什么好处的，中年已经到来，我最好还是承认这一事实。”六十岁时我说：“现在该把我的东西加以整理，是时候了，因为这已经是老年的门槛，我也该清点一下我的账目了。”我决定从戏剧写作退下来，写了《总结》，在书里试图为了自娱把我从生活、从文学学习到的东西，我的所作所为和这些东西给我带来的快慰，一一加以回顾。但是在所有过去这些生日纪念当中，我想最为重要的要算七十岁生日了。一个人活到七十，也就是到了通常认为是人生寿命的定数，剩下来的有生之年，只能看作是一个极不稳定的未知数，只是趁手持镰刀的时光老人的头冲向别的方向时偷来的。到了七十岁，一个人不再是只站在老年的门槛上。他就是一个老人了。
在欧洲大陆，当一个有相当成就的人到了七十岁时，他们有一个很亲切的风俗习惯，这就是他的朋友，他的同事，以及他的弟子们（要是他有的话），大家联合起来共同撰写一本论文集为他祝贺。在英国，我们对我们的名人却没有这样的表示尊敬、赞扬的做法。我们最多也不过举行一次祝寿的宴会，而且这也得那个人真得很有名气……
我自己的生日是在没有任何礼节仪式的情况下度过的。我上午照常工作，下午则到我的房子后面的孤寂树林里散步。……后来我回到屋里，自己烧了一杯茶，一直砍树砍到吃晚饭。晚饭后我继续阅读，一个人玩了一会儿纸牌游戏，听了收音机的新闻报道，拿了一本侦探小说上床。我看玩了小说就睡觉了。除了跟我的几个黑人女佣说过几句话之外，我整天没有和任何人说过一句话。
我就这样过了我的七十岁生日，我本来也就想这样过的。我沉思了。
两三年前，有一次我正同赖莎一块儿散步，不只怎么，她谈到老年的念头使她充满了恐惧。
“别忘了，”我告诉她，“将来你老了，你就不会有欲望去做那些现在使你生活愉快的各种各样的事了，老年有它自己的补偿。”
“什么补偿？”她问。
“你再也用不着去做你不想做的任何事了，你可以欣赏音乐、艺术和文学，和你年轻时有所不同，但也一样敏锐。你可以冷眼观察一些和你不再密切相关的事态发展，从中得到乐趣。也许你的快乐不是那么强烈了，但你的痛苦也失掉了刺痛。”