Dead Poets Society

发布日期：2026-07-19

《死亡诗社》摘抄

• Tradition, Honor, Discipline, Excellence

• “Misters Pitts and Meeks. Demerits,” he called down dourly. The boys looked down, turning their heads together, and Pitts rolled his eyes.

Dr. Hager was old, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle’s. “That’s another demerit, Mr. Pitts,” he said.

• Carpe Diem

• One reads poetry because he is a member of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion! Medicine, law, banking—-these are necessary to sustain life. But poetry, romance, love, beauty? These are what we stay alive for!

• I don’t know how the present administration would look upon it, but I doubt the reaction would be favorable.

• “People,“ Keating said as the boys gathered around him. “A dangerous element of conformity has been seeping into your work.“

• As Frost said, “ ‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,/And that has made all the difference.’”

• College will probably destroy your love for poetry. Hours of boring analysis, dissection, and criticism will see to that. College will also expose you to all manner of literature—much of it transcendent works of magic that you must devour; some of it utter dreck that you must avoid like the plague.”

• dissection 解剖，详细查究

• transcendent 卓越的，出类拔萃的

• plague 鼠疫、瘟疫

• He paced in front of the class as he spoke. “Suppose you are taking a course entitled, ‘Modern Novels.’ All semester you have been reading masterpieces such as the touching Père Goriot by Balzac and the moving Fathers and Sons by Turgenev, but when you receive your assignment for your final paper, you discover that you are to write an essay on the theme of parental love in The Doubtful Debutante, a novel—and I use that term generously here—by none other than the professor himself.”

Keating looked at the boys with a raised eyebrow and then continued. “After reading the first three pages of the book, you realize that you would rather volunteer for combat than waste your precious earthly time infecting your mind with this sewage, but do you despair? Take an F? Absolutely not. Because you are prepared.”

The boys watched and listened intently. Keating continued to pace. “Open The Doubtful Deb and learn from the jacket that the book is about Frank, a farm equipment salesman who sacrifices everything to provide his social-climbing daughter, Christine, with the debut she so desperately desires. Begin your essay by disclaiming the need to restate the plot while at the same time regurgitating enough of it to convince the professor that you’ve read the book.

debut 首次亮相

disclaim 否认、放弃

regurgitate 回流、照搬

“Next, shift to something pretentious and familiar. For instance, you might write, ‘What is remarkable to note are the similarities between the author’s dire picture of parental love and modern Freudian theory. Christine is Electra, her father is a fallen Oedipus.

pretentious 自命不凡的、做作的

dire 极其严重的、糟糕的

Freudian 弗洛伊德

Oedipus 俄狄浦斯

“Finally, skip to the obscure and elaborate like this...” Keating paused, then read, “‘What is most remarkable is the novel’s uncanny connection with Hindu Indian philosopher Avesh Rahesh Non. Rahesh Non discussed in painful detail the discarding of parents by children for the three-headed monster of ambition, money, and social success.’ Go on to discuss Rahesh Non’s theories about what feeds the monster, how to behead it, et cetera, et cetera. End by praising the professor’s brilliant writing and consummate courage in introducing The Doubtful Deb to you.”

obscure 模糊的、鲜为人知的

elaborate 详细说明、复杂的

uncanny 神秘的、离奇的

discard 抛弃、丢弃

behead 砍头

consummate 完美的、圆满的

Meeks raised his hand. “Captain... what if you don’t know anything about someone like Rahesh Non?”

“Rahesh Non never existed, Mr. Meeks. You make him, or someone like him, up. No self-important college professor would dare admit ignorance of such an obviously important figure, and you will probably receive a comment like the one I received.”

Keating picked up a paper on his desk and read from it to the class: “‘Your allusions to Rahesh Non were insightful and well presented. Glad to see that someone besides myself appreciates this great but forgotten Eastern master. A-plus.’”

allusion 暗指、提及

• “What is wrong with old habits, Mr. Overstreet?”

“They perpetuate mechanical living, sir,” Knox maintained. “They limit your mind. “

• I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life. And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

marrow 骨髓、精华

rout 摧毁、彻底击败、溃败

• We are dreaming of tomorrow, and tomorrow isn’t coming;

we are dreaming of a glory that we don’t really want.

We are dreaming of a new day when the new day’s here already.

We are running from the battle when it’s one that must be fought.

And still we sleep.

We are listening for the calling but

never really heeding,

Hoping for the future when the future’s only plans.

Dreaming of the wisdom that we are

dodging daily,

Praying for a savior when salvation’s in our hands.

And still we sleep.

And still we sleep.

And still we pray.

And still we fear...

And still we sleep.

heed 注意、留心

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time‌

by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time, And, while ye may, go marry; For, having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry.

coy 腼腆的

prime 最主要的，最理想的

tarry 等待，停留

Understanding Poetry

by Dr. J. Even Pritchard, Phd.

To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech, then ask two questions: 1) How artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered and 2) How important is that objective? Question 1 rates the poem’s perfection; question 2 rates its importance. Once these questions have been answered, determining the poem’s greatness becomes a relatively simple matter. If the poem’s score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of a graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness. A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great.

As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems in this manner grows, so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry.

meter 韵律

render 表现

plot 绘制

sonnet 十四行诗

This is battle, boys,” he cried. “War! You are souls at a critical juncture. Either you will succumb to the will of academic hoi polloi, and the fruit will die on the vine—or you will triumph as individuals

juncture 特定时刻、关头

hoi polloi 大众、群众

vine 葡萄藤

O me! O life!

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

recur 反复出现

plod 沉重缓慢地走

sordid 肮脏的，卑鄙的

intertwine 缠绕，纠缠

Ode

by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

We are the music makers

And we are the dreamers of dreams,

Wandering by lonely sea-breakers,

And sitting by desolate streams;

World losers and world forsakers,

On whom the pale moon gleams:

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the world, forever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties

We build up with world’s great cities,

And out of a fabulous story

We fashion an empire’s glory:

One man with a dream, at pleasure

Shall go forth and conquer a crown;

And three with a new song’s measure

Can trample an empire down.

We in the ages lying,

In the buried past of the earth,

Built Nineveh with our sighing,

And Babel itself with our mirth.

And overthrew them with prophesying

To the old of the new world‘s worth;

For each age is a dream that is dying,

Or one that is coming to birth.

forsake 抛弃

ditty 小曲，小调

trample 踩、踏

mirch 欢乐、高兴

overthrow 推翻、打倒

The Congo

by Vachel Lindsay

I. Their Basic Savagery

Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM. THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel in derision. THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. Then along that riverbank A thousand miles Tattooed cannibals danced in files; Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong. And "BLOOD" screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors, "BLOOD" screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors, "Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle, Harry the uplands, Steal all the cattle, Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle, Bing. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM," A roaring, epic, rag-time tune From the mouth of the Congo To the Mountains of the Moon. Death is an Elephant, Torch-eyed and horrible, Foam-flanked and terrible. BOOM, steal the pygmies, BOOM, kill the Arabs, BOOM, kill the white men, HOO, HOO, HOO. Listen to the yell of Leopold's ghost Burning in Hell for his hand-maimed host. Hear how the demons chuckle and yell Cutting his hands off, down in Hell. Listen to the creepy proclamation, Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation, Blown past the white-ants' hill of clay, Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play:— "Be careful what you do, Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, And all of the other Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."

buck 纨绔子弟、小伙子

barrel 桶

sagged 下垂的、凹陷的

reel 卷、绕

revel 狂欢

derision 嘲笑、嘲讽

congo 刚果、刚果河

file 纵列

lust 性欲、强烈欲望

gong 锣

fife 横笛

lean 瘦的，不景气的

rattle 咯咯作响

Harry 反复进攻

upland 山地，高地

rag-time 雷格泰姆音乐

flank 侧面、侧面有

pygmy 侏儒

Arab 阿拉伯人

proclamation 宣言、公告

hoo-doo 蛊惑、迷惑

II. Their Irrepressible High Spirits

Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call Danced the juba in their gambling-hall And laughed fit to kill, and shook the town, And guyed the policemen and laughed them down With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM. THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. A negro fairyland swung into view, A minstrel river Where dreams come true. The ebony palace soared on high Through the blossoming trees to the evening sky. The inlaid porches and casements shone With gold and ivory and elephant-bone. And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore At the baboon butler in the agate door, And the well-known tunes of the parrot band That trilled on the bushes of that magic land.

A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came Through the agate doorway in suits of flame, Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust And hats that were covered with diamond-dust. And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call And danced the juba from wall to wall. But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng With a stern cold glare, and a stern old song:— "Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."... Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes, Came the cake-walk princes in their long red coats, Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine, And tall silk hats that were red as wine. And they pranced with their butterfly partners there, Coal-black maidens with pearls in their hair, Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet, And bells on their ankles and little black feet. And the couples railed at the chant and the frown Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down. (O rare was the revel, and well worth while That made those glowering witch-men smile.)

The cake-walk royalty then began To walk for a cake that was tall as a man To the tune of "Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM," While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air, And sang with the scalawags prancing there:— "Walk with care, walk with care, Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, And all of the other Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Beware, beware, walk with care, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM." Oh rare was the revel, and well worth while That made those glowering witch-men smile.

III. The Hope of their Religion

A good old negro in the slums of the town Preached at a sister for her velvet gown. Howled at a brother for his low-down ways, His prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days. Beat on the Bible till he wore it out Starting the jubilee revival shout. And some had visions, as they stood on chairs, And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs, And they all repented, a thousand strong From their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong And slammed with their hymn books till they shook the room With "glory, glory, glory," And "Boom, boom, BOOM." THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK CUTTING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil And showed the apostles with their coats of mail. In bright white steele they were seated round And their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound. And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry:— "Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle; Never again will he hoo-doo you, Never again will he hoo-doo you."

Then along that river, a thousand miles The vine-snared trees fell down in files. Pioneer angels cleared the way For a Congo paradise, for babes at play, For sacred capitals, for temples clean. Gone were the skull-faced witch-men lean. There, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed A million boats of the angels sailed With oars of silver, and prows of blue And silken pennants that the sun shone through. 'Twas a land transfigured, 'twas a new creation. Oh, a singing wind swept the negro nation And on through the backwoods clearing flew:— "Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle. Never again will he hoo-doo you. Never again will he hoo-doo you."

Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the men, And only the vulture dared again By the far, lone mountains of the moon To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune:— "Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Mumbo... Jumbo... will... hoo-doo... you."