总以为还有另一个日子，去说“我爱你”，也总以为还有下一次机会，去说“我能帮你什么吗？”
但是，万一我错了，我只能拥有今天，我愿意说一千遍一万遍“我爱你”，让我们永不相忘。
明天没有向任何人承诺，年轻人也好，老年人也罢。今天也许是你紧紧拥抱爱人的最后一次机会。
所以，如果你在等待明天，为什么不在今天就行动？因为，如果明天永不来临，你必定会为今天后悔……
你后悔没有腾出更多的时间去微笑，拥抱，亲吻。后悔自己如此忙碌，没有帮别人实现他们最后的愿望。
所以，今天就紧紧拥抱你心爱的人吧，对他们耳语，告诉他们，你深深地爱着他们，并将永远珍惜。
腾出一些时间说句“对不起”，“请原谅”，“谢谢”，“没关系”。
即使明天永不来临，你也不会为今天后悔。
心灵小语
时光一去不复还，不要等到“假如我知道……”之时，才追悔莫及。
记忆填空
1. If I knew it would be the____time I’d see you walk out the door, I would give you a____and kiss you, and call you____for more.
2. If I knew it would be the last time I could____an extra minute or so to stop and say “I love you,”____of assuming you would know l do.
3. That you didn’t take that____time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss, and you were too____to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last__ .
佳句翻译
1. 假如我知道这将是最后的时光，我会陪在你的身边。
译__________________________
2. 如果你在等待明天，为什么不在今天就行动？
译__________________________
3. 今天就紧紧拥抱你的心爱之人吧，对他们耳语，你深深地爱着他们，并将永远珍惜。
译__________________________
短语应用
1. That you didn’t take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss, and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.
turn out：结果是，证明是
造________________________
2. I’m sure you’ll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away.
slip away：逃走
造________________________
你还记得吗
Yellow Post-Its By Ishita Vora
佚名 / Anonymous
Can you still find this day, my dear, among your possessions?
Among the souvenirs of your trips to faraway lands, the textbooks from those halcyon days when you walked the hallowed portals of that engineering college, the cassettes whose covers were left behind after one of those bacchanalian sessions in the hostel, the photographs of those classmates whose names you can’t remember? Or is it hidden in the darkness, put out of sight along with the book you bought but never read, the gift you never quite found a use for and the letters you never finished or sent.I can still find it here, in the city, in the house, which you have never visited, in the kitchen where I have imaginary conversations with you. It is here even when I am not, for I go out now, leaving the light on and the music playing, so I can return home to the illusion of company.
I am probably better off now. Without secrets to keep from my parents. Without someone to come between me and my friends, me and my pastimes, me and my work, me and my sensible, understandable, utilitarian life. The life that I keep trying, keep failing to bring in line with the expectations that I keep trying, keep failing to make my own. It is not that I always feel like this, sometimes I yearn for those days when tears and laughter both came easy. Those easy and quick transitions from ecstasy to despair. When a compliment could keep my mind occupied for hours on end and a harsh word could prick like a pin the same skin which now seems dry and insensitive. Like probably millions around the world, I look outside the window of a crowded bus, lost in my own thoughts and wonder how it could happen to me.
Was I not supposed to be different from the rest? Not for the silly schoolgirl infatuation with the football team captain or the fascination with the good for nothing, pot-smoking aspiring poet. Ours was a mature friendship that had blossomed into more. How could I feel a pang of envy then, when you lent a helping hand to another girl, when you spoke about someone who’s far away and about to be married, when you were so involved in the book you were reading that you did not notice that we never met all day?When we decided that it had been too long and that we should meet, I carefully started preparing a package for you. A small poem, that book you always wanted but never found, an old photograph and a bar of chocolate for us to share. What would I wear and what would we talk about? The package still remains in my drawer waiting for the phone to ring again.
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when we sat in my tiny hostel room, discussing capitalism and campus gossip with equal fever. When it seemed as if those conversations could last forever and we would never tire of them. When Joni Mitchell sang “California” seven times on continuous play before we thought of getting out.
Then one day suddenly we were looking for each other. You were always somewhere else, doing something else and strangely enough, so was I. Those new people I met on that trip and that junior guy who loved the same movies I do. That girl next door who took math lessons from you. My room was almost always locked and yours was no different. We seemed to have discovered a whole world outside of ourselves all of a sudden. The tragedy was we had also lost the world we had before.
Then came the rescue mission. The loud fights in the hostel wing, the long silences and the desperate angry notes. Frustration, anxiety and even love revealing itself in the ugliest possible ways. Then indifference, complacency and resignation. Calm, dispassionate discussions on how we could stay friends. The decision that we should always let the other know when we would be around. That’s when I started leaving those yellow post-its on the door. Those yellow post-its which by the time I came back would have your coordinates that I never used. If we had all of them now, they would be telling this tale a lot better than I am now.
Back home, I still continue leaving those post-its to this day, hoping that someone will write their whereabouts on them as well.
亲爱的，在你的记忆宝库里，还能找回这一天吗？
在你从遥远的异乡带回的诸多纪念品中，记载着你跨入神圣的工学院门槛后的青春岁月；在那些大学课本当中，在那些一盒盒旧磁带当中，以及那一张张老照片当中——上面好多同学的名字你已不记得；你还记得么？而那黄色便条是否在这些旧物中呢？是不是暗藏在别处，与那本你买了但一直没看的书放在一起呢，或许与那些毫无用处的礼品和从没写完或没寄出的信放在一块儿？
我的便条仍在，就在这座城市里，在这所你从没来过的房子里。我曾在厨房里，回想与你谈话的情景。即使我不在家，它们也一直在那儿。如今，即便我上街了，也会开着房间的灯，放着音乐，这样当我回来时，就会有种错觉——家里有人在等我。
