散文：余光中散文《尺素寸心》節(jié)選

　　余光中　　回信，固然可畏，不回信，也絕非什么樂(lè)事。書架上經(jīng)常疊著百多封未回之信，"債齡"或長(zhǎng)或短， 長(zhǎng)的甚至一年以上，那樣的壓力，也絕非一個(gè)普通的罪徒所能負(fù)擔(dān)的。一疊未回的信，就像一群不散的陰魂，在我罪深孽重的心底幢幢作祟。理論上說(shuō)來(lái)，這些信當(dāng)然是要回的。我可以坦然向天發(fā)誓，在我清醒的時(shí)刻，我絕未存心不回人信。問(wèn)題出在技術(shù)上。給我一整個(gè)夏夜的空閑，我該先回一年半前的那封信呢，還是七個(gè)月前的這封信?隔了這么久，恐怕連謝罪自譴的有效期也早過(guò)了吧。在朋友的心目中，你早已淪為不值得計(jì)較的妄人。“莫名其妙!”是你在江湖上一致的評(píng)語(yǔ)?！　∑鋵?shí)，即使終于鼓起全部的道德勇氣，坐在桌前，準(zhǔn)備償付信債于萬(wàn)一，也不是輕易能如愿的。七零八落的新簡(jiǎn)舊信，漫無(wú)規(guī)則地充塞在書架上，抽屜里，有的回過(guò)，有的未回，“只在此山中，云深不知處”，要找到你決心要回的那一封，耗費(fèi)的時(shí)間和精力，往往數(shù)倍于回信本身。再想象朋友接信時(shí)的表情，不是喜出望外，而是余怒重?zé)耄隳且稽c(diǎn)決心就整個(gè)崩潰了。你的債，永無(wú)清償之日。不回信，絕不等于忘了朋友，正如世上絕無(wú)忘了債主的負(fù)債人。在你惶恐的深處，惡魘的盡頭， 隱隱約約， 永遠(yuǎn)潛伏著這位朋友的怒眉和冷眼，不，你永遠(yuǎn)忘不了他。你真正忘掉的，而且忘得那么心安理得，是那些已經(jīng)得到你回信的朋友?！　n Excerpt from Limited Words vs. Boundless Friendship　　By Yu Guangzhong　　Replying a letter does make me flinch; however, unreplied letters allow me no release at all. Dozens of unreplied letters pile up on my bookshelf, like a sum of debt waiting to be paid. Some have been waiting there for over one year, while some have newly arrived. The pressure from paying off that debt is far beyond what a junior debtor can endure. The stack of unreplied letters are, like a group of haunting ghosts, continually pestering my guilt-loaded soul. Conventionally, the letters will certainly be replied. I can even swear by heaven that never do I have the intention not to reply when my mind is clear. The problem is how to reply. Even if I spared myself a whole summer night, I would be wavering on which letter to reply first, the 18-month-old one or the 7-month-old? The reply has been delayed for so long that I'm afraid even a heartfelt apology has already lost its power. In friends' heart, I've been marginalized as a cocky man unworthy of care. "Unaccountable"! That is their unanimous comment on me?！　n fact, even though I pull myself together and settle down at the desk, ready to pay off the debt, my determination will easily be split up by doubts. Old and new letters, replied or yet-to-be, cram the shelf and the drawer in disorder, which reminds me of two verses: "He's simply in the very mountain. In the depths of clouds, his whereabouts are unknown." (from Calling on a Hermit in Vain by Jia Dao). Picking out the letter I decide to reply from such a mess will cost multiplied time and energy as replying the letter does. Moreover, on visualizing the facial expression of friends when they receive the reply — reburned lingering anger rather than surprised delight — my tiny amount of determination dwindle into naught. Consequently, the date when my debt is paid off extends into eternity. Although I haven't replied the letters, I can never forget my friends, any more than a debtor can forget his creditor. In the depth of my disturbed and apologetic heart looms the indelible angry and icy look of my friends. Never can I forget them. Friends who really fall into oblivion, from which guilt is totally absent, are those who have received my reply。