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初見這本《見信如晤》是在寧波的覔書店。當時翻看了幾頁，有些興趣，卻沒有強烈的購買欲。后來不知為何又記起了這本書。本著要支持獨立書店的想法，跑了幾家溫州的書店，都沒有找到這本書。所以最后還是打開了萬能的橙色軟件。

一般情況下，如果有的選，我會購買英文原版。當時查看了一番，并不確定《見信如晤》是否有完全對應的Letters of Note。我找到了好幾個主題的版本。于是作罷，選定最初看到的這本也很有意義。等這本書看完之后我可以確定其實是有的哈哈哈哈~

剛拿到這本書的時候感覺沉甸甸的，而且裝幀和編輯比較精美（雖然譯本有很大的、可變的空間）。其中收錄了124封信件，部分還附有原件照片，的確是值得收藏的一個版本。略遺憾的是，《見信如晤》并未收錄任何中文信。我并不認為這是編者的偏見，更多的原因可能還是要歸咎于亞洲文化的傳播。就這一點而言，只能說吾輩在傳播中華文化這一課題上還有很多事情可以做。

編者Shaun Usher在引言中有提到：

"My only hope is that it will take pride of place on your bookshelf and be passed to your nearest and dearest. Maybe, just maybe, it will inspire at least a few people to put pen to paper, or even to dust off an old typewriter, and write their own letters of note."

《見信如晤》讓我收獲頗多，有感動，有共鳴，也有啟發。這本書的確已經成為我珍視的藏書之一，而且我愿意花時間做整理和分享，以推薦給更多的人。

我從小就喜歡寫信寫字，現在用筆寫得少了，但有機會仍然喜歡給朋友寫上幾行溫暖的字。好在依舊保持著對文字的熱愛，堅持著創作和表達。

這本書讓我喜歡的另一原因是它的延展性，通過讀書中的124封信，我看到了更加廣闊的世界。比如，我認識到了熟悉或者陌生的寫信人和收信人，他們的生活和故事，當時的時代背景，還有少數人的信仰和世界觀。更驚喜的是，我又發現許多想去讀的書。我讀書中的譯本，對于感興趣的主題會再去查看英文版，類似double-check。因此，以下的分享有書籍的照片，也有對照或者相關的英文版本。

Enjoy.

“Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.”

“Everything is beautiful. Pop is everything.”

“Art is useless because its aim is simply to create a mood. It is not meant to instruct, or to influence action in any way. It is superbly sterile, and the note of its pleasure is sterility.”

“What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you.”

"Tonight I shall go down to the village and blow it through the bedroom window of some sleeping child and see if it works."

“My muse is not a horse and I am in no horse race and if indeed she was, still I would not harness her to this tumbrel—this bloody cart of severed heads and glittering prizes.”

“I am not afraid of robots. I am afraid of people, people, people.”

“Are you happy finally? Is it a nice long rest you’re having? Making up for all your tossing and turning in life… 

"What was it, Spencer? I meant to ask you. Did you know what it was? What did you say? I can't hear you…”

“Please excuse my not mailing this, but I don’t know your new address.”

“Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.”

“What lots and lots I could tell you of this journey. How much better it has been than lounging in comfort at home…”

“So few things blaze. So little is beautiful. Our world doesn’t seem equipped to contain its brilliance too long. Ecstasy is only recognizable when one has experienced pain. Beauty only exists when set against ugliness. Peace is not appreciated without war ahead of it.”

“17 million Negroes cannot do as you suggest and wait for the hearts of men to change.”

“Although our space program seems to lead us away from our Earth and out toward the moon, the sun, the planets, and the stars. I believe that none of these celestial objects will find as much attention and study by space scientists as our Earth. It will become a better Earth, not only because of all the new technological and scientific knowledge which we will apply to the betterment of life, but also because we are developing a far deeper appreciation of our Earth, of life, and of man.”

“You should also resolve to expose your children to all sorts of opinions and information, in order that they will be better equipped to make decisions and to survive.”

“…the holes that will always exist in any story we try to make of our lives. So hang on, my love, grow big and strong, take your hits and keep going.”

“…If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.”

“Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt use it—don’t cheat with it. Be as faithful to it as a scientist—but don’t think anything is of any importance because it happens to you or anyone belonging to you.”

“Don’t melt too much into the universe, but be as solid and dense and fixed as you can… 

“Sorrow comes in great waves—no one can know that better than you—but it rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us it leaves us on the spot and we know that if it is strong we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain. It wears us, uses us, but we wear it and use it in return; and it is blind, whereas we after a manner see.”

“P.S. You’ll never get in trouble if you say 'I love you’ at least once a day.”

“There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you—of kindness and consideration and respect—not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

“And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens—the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.”

“…your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a twilit dwelling where the noise others make will pass by, far away. And if from this turning within, from this immersion in your own world, poems arise, you will not even think to ask if your verses are good. You will not even seek to interest the journals in your work: since you will see them as your own dear natural possession, a part of your life, a voice therein. A work of art is good if it is born of necessity. It can only be judged by such an origin: and in no other way. That is why, my dear sir, I have only this advice: go into yourself and view the depths from which your life springs; there at the source you will find the answer to the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer as it is given, without seeking to interpret it. Perhaps you will find your calling as an artist. Take that fate upon yourself, then, and bear its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what reward might come from outside. For the creator must be a world unto themselves, and find everything there within the self, and in that Nature to which they are connected.

“But it may be that even after this descent into yourself and your solitude you will have to forgo becoming a poet (it is enough, as I said, to feel one could live without writing to make one forbid oneself to try) Nonetheless, the self-contemplation I asked of you would not prove in vain. Thereafter your life will still find its own path, and that it may be fine, and broad, and full of richness, I wish for you more than I can say.”