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Little things

"To go back a year- Susy aged seven. Several times her mother said to her.

There, there, Susy, you mustn't cry over little things.

This furnished Susy a text for thought. She had been breaking her heart over what had seemed vast disasters; a broken toy, a picnic cancelled by thunder and lightning and rain, the mouse that was growing tame and friendly in the nursery and killed by the cat and now came this strange revelation: For some unaccountable reason these were not vast calamities. Why? how is the size of calamities measured? What is the rule? There must be some way to tell the great ones from the small ones.

She examined the problem earnestly and long. And at last she gave up and went to her mother for help.

-Mamma, what is "little things?"

It seemed a simple question at first; and yet, before the answer could be put into words, unsuspected and unforseen difficulties began to appear. The effort to explain came to a standstill; Susy tried to help her mother out with an instance, an illustration. The mother was getting ready to go downtown, to buy a long promised toy-watch for Susy.

If you forgot the watch, mamma, would that be a little thing?

She was not concerned about the watch for she knew it would not be forgotten. What she was hoping for was that the answer would unriddle the riddle and bring rest and peace to her little mind; the hope was disappointed , of course for the reason that the size of a misfortune is not determinable by an outsider's measurement of it but by the measurements applied to it by the person specially affected.

The king's lost crown is a vast matter to the king but of no consequence to the child.The lost toy is a great matter to the child but in the king's eye it is not a thing to break the heart about."



Vous voyez que vous n'aviez pas besoin de traduction ; ce passage est charmant, non?




16:40 Publié dans Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (1)


ouais sans trad ça peut aller, encore, mais combien d'années à traîner de 6° en terminale, sans jamais aller chez sa gracieuse majesté (j'ai eu tort, là)7 ans... c'est dingue non ?

Écrit par : PdB | 27/03/2009

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