建議先讀原稿。當然，你可直奔后附譯文。
President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates:
The first thing I would like to say is “thank you.”
Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honor, but the weeks of fear and nausea I have endured at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight.
A win-win situation!
Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and convince myself that I am at the world's largest Gryffindor reunion.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation.
The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock.
Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said.
This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, the law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the “gay wizard” joke, I've come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step to self improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today.
I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that have expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers.
On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure.
And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These may seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become.
Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels.
However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that would never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.
I know the irony strikes with the force of a cartoon anvil now, but . . .
So they hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature.
A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages.
Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.
I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day.
Of all the subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view.
There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.
What is more, I cannot criticize my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty.
They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience.
Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships.
Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticized only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
Now I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known heartbreak, hardship or heartache.
Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure.
You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success.
Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far removed from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it.
So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale.
An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless.
The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun.
That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution.
I had no idea then how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
So why do I talk about the benefits of failure?
Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential.
I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me.
Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena where I believed I truly belonged.
I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.
And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable.
It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all—in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations.
Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way.
I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive.
You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity.
Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.
So given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement.
Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two.
Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
Now you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so.
Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense.
Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation.
In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books.
This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs.
Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working at the African research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.
There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them.
I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends.
I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to speak against their governments.
Visitors to our offices included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had left behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland.
He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him.
He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child.
I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since.
The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her.
She had just had to give him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power.
I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.
And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilizes thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have.
The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners.
Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet.
My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, human beings can learn and understand, without having experienced.
They can think themselves into other people's places.
Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral.
One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathize.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all.
They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are.
They can refuse to hear screams or peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do.
Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters.
They are often more afraid.
What is more, those who choose not to empathize enable real monsters.
For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.
That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives.
It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives?
Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities.
Even your nationality sets you apart.
The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower.
The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders.
That is your privilege, and your burden.
If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change.
We do not need magic to transform our world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished.
I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21.
The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life.
They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of real trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters.
At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
So today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships.
And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives. Thank you very much.
? ? ? 福斯特(女)主席,哈佛董事會和監事會的董事們監事們,老師們,自豪的父母們,而且,最重要的是,畢業生們:
? ? 首先我想說的是“謝謝你們！“
? ? 不僅哈佛給我一個非凡的榮譽,而且一想到給這個典禮做演說就會恐懼和(緊張得)泛惡心，我忍受了數周的折磨使我減肥了。
? ? ? 一個雙贏的局面！
? ? ? 現在我所要做的是深呼吸,瞇著眼看看紅色的橫幅，然后說服自己我是在世界上最大的格林芬多團聚。
【“盡管我不信在我的書里有某種魔法，但是我的確相信當你讀過一本好書會發生一些出神入化的事情。”——羅琳】
? ? ? 做畢業典禮演說是一項偉大的職責;因此我苦思冥想著直到我的思緒回到了自己的那次畢業典禮上。
? ? ? 那天做畢業典禮演講的是英國著名的哲學家Baroness Mary Warnock。
? ? ? ? 回想起她的演講對我寫它(哈利波特系列)的幫助很大,畢竟事實證明我根本沒記住她所說的任何一個詞。
? ? ? 這個令我釋然的發現可以讓我毫無畏懼的開展我可能無意中會影響你放棄前途的職業——為(自己)在商業、法律或政治領域中成為基佬巫師而興高采烈。
? 你聽懂了?如果若干年后你所能記得的只有“基佬巫師”的笑話,那么我就得(向你)展現出Baroness Mary Warnock的高瞻遠矚。夠得著的目標是——首先修煉自我。
事實上,為了今天該對你說的，我已經身心俱疲。
我曾捫心自問過自己，在我的畢業典禮上我希望懂得些什么,那些曾經苦學了21年的重要課程在彈指一揮間過期了。
我得到了兩個答案。
在此美好的一天,當我們濟濟一堂慶祝你們的學術成就之際,我決定和你們談談失敗的好處。
當你有時在被稱作為“現實生活”的門檻前執迷不悟的時候,我要向你們頌揚一下想象力的重要性。
這些選擇似乎是不切實際或自相矛盾的,但請先容我講完。
? ? ? ? 在她已成豆腐渣的42歲年紀去回顧我剛畢業時21歲的豆蔻年華，是略微不太舒服的經歷。
? ? ? ? 我的前半生，在平衡我的雄心壯志和小確幸之間艱難的掙扎著。
? ? ? ? 我確信我唯一想做的事情就是寫小說。
? ? ? ? 然而，我的父母出身于大蕭條的年代，兩人都沒有讀過大學，在他們的眼中，我激進的想入非非是搞笑的個人怪癖，那是還不了貸款，付不起可靠的養老金的。
? ? ? 現在我對理想與現實差距的諷刺打擊有感同身受。但是那時……
? ? ? 他們想讓我拿到職業教育學位，我想學習英國文學。
? ? ? 回想雙方是妥協卻沒有人滿意，我去學現代語言了。
? ? ? 我父母的車幾乎沒到路盡頭的轉角處,我就扔掉了德語，翻過古典的走廊，落荒而逃。
我已不記得我告訴過父母我在學習古典文學;他們可能會發現第一次畢業典禮挺不錯的。
當成為保障行政主管洗手間的關鍵時，我認為他們很難從這個星球上的所有學科中叫出一門(學科)比希臘神話更沒用。
? ? 這里我要插入一句，我要澄清的是我并不歸咎于我父母的觀點。
責備父母將你帶錯了方向總會有個到時候的日子，當你成為老司機的那一刻起,你將承擔手握方向盤的責任。
更重要的是,我不能批評我的父母要我過上好日子的希望。
我貧窮他們就自憐自艾，我非常同意他們的觀點,貧窮不是高貴的經歷。
貧窮會將恐懼、壓力,有時候甚至是沮喪繁衍生息。這意味著千年的屈辱和艱辛。
憑借自己的努力脫貧致富是引以自豪的事情,但只有傻瓜會“有情飲水飽”，把貧窮當浪漫。
【“王侯將相，寧有種乎。”——羅琳】
我最害怕自己在你們這個的年齡不是貧窮,而是失敗。
在你們這個年紀,盡管在大學里有各式各樣的懈怠,在那里我泡在咖啡吧里寫故事，聽講座的時間太少,但我有一些通過考試的竅門,多年來,一直是我在生活中在同齡人中衡量成功的標尺。
現在我不想呆滯到去假設,因為你們年輕、有天份、受過良好的教育,你們從來都不知道心碎,艱難或心痛。
天賦和智商并不能讓你抵御命運的無常,我絲毫不認為這里的每個人已經享受波瀾不驚的恩典和滿足。
然而,你們畢業于哈佛的事實表明,你們沒有失敗的刻骨銘心。
你可能對失敗和成功患得患失，恐懼與渴望交織。
事實上,你們對失敗的概念可能離普通人對成功的想法不太遠,盡管你們已經展翅高飛。
最終，我們都由自己決定失敗的成分，但是如果你不夠堅定，世界是非常渴望給你一套(世俗的)評價標準。
因此我認為公平地講，以任何一個傳統的方法,僅僅在我畢業之后的七年里,我算是碌碌無為。
【“有志者事竟成。”——羅琳】
? ? ? 異常短暫的婚姻使我崩潰，我丟了工作，只留下一個孤獨的父母，我無家可歸，眼下的英國再窮也不會無家可歸。
老無所養，孤苦伶仃的恐懼都已成為現實，無論怎么看，我知道這是我最凄慘的失敗。
? ? ? ? 現在,我不打算站在這里告訴你們，失敗是多么有趣。
這段時間我的生活是黑暗的,我不知道會有什么新聞報道可以表現為一種童話的決定。
我不知道這(失敗)隧道會延伸多長持續多久，任何光明的盡頭是希望而不是現實。
? ? 那么為什么我還要談論失敗的好處呢?
? ? 因為失敗意味著剝離掉那些不必要的東西。
我不再裝逼，并開始直接竭盡全力于要完成的我所在意的僅有的工作。
? ? ? ? 要不是在燈火闌珊處柳暗花明,我可能永遠不會發現在那個志在必得的競技場上銳意進取的決心。
? ? ? ? 我是自由的，因為我最深重的恐懼已經實現了，我仍舊活著，我仍然有一個令我傾慕的女兒，還有一部老打字機和一個大大的主意。
所以低谷成為我重建生活的堅實基礎。
? ? ?
【“低谷成為我重建生活的堅實基礎。”——羅琳】
? 你可能永遠不會有我那么慘,但有些生活中的失敗是不可避免的。
不可能沒有失敗,除非你生活如此謹慎以至于根本沒有生活過一樣，在這種情況下，你敗給了不負責任。
失敗給了我無法通過考試而獲得的內在安全感。
? ? ? 失敗教會了我有關自己的事情可以另辟蹊徑。
我發現我有比我曾疑慮的更加強大的意志，更加訓練有素；我還找到了比紅寶石還要有價值的朋友。
? 吃一塹長一智的學問意味今后你的生存能力更加穩固可靠。
? 你永遠不會真正了解自己，或者你的人際關系的力量，直到兩者都到了接受逆境考驗的時候。
這樣的學問是一個真實的禮物，為了這一切贏得艱難，這比我曾經獲得的任何資格都要值得。
所以給我一個時光機，我會告訴21歲的自己，個人的幸福在于深入生活而不是一張成績單。
? ? ? 你的資歷、你的簡歷都不是你的生活，盡管你還會遇到很多像我這個年紀以及歲數更大還在混淆這兩者的人。
世事無常，超出任何人的控制。謙遜能夠使你在滄海桑田中幸免于難。
現在你可能會認為我選擇了第二個主題，想象力的重要性，由于它扮演重建我的生活部分，但并非完全如此。
雖然我會不遺余力地為床邊故事的價值做辯護，但我已學會給更寬廣感受的想象力定價。
? ? ? ? 想象力不僅是人類特有的能力預見無所不能，因此那是所有發明和創新的源泉。
在其無可辯駁的極其變革性和啟示性的能力中，它能使我們同情那些從來沒有與我們分享的人們。
? ? ?
【“我們不需要用魔法改變世界，我們已經承載了自己內心所需的所有力量——我們有力量想象得更好。”——羅琳】
? 其中一個最具影響力的生活經歷發生在哈利波特之前，盡管在我隨后寫的那些書中多次提到。
? 這一發覺成為了我最早從事的全職工作之一。
? ? ? 雖然我利用午餐時間里溜號悄悄寫故事，但是我付了租金，我20出頭就在總部位于倫敦的大赦國際下的非洲研究部門工作。
? ? ? ? 在那兒我的狹小的工作室內，我得匆忙讀字跡潦草的從極端政權偷運出來的信件，那些男女冒著牢獄之災的風險而向外的世界告知他們那里正在發生什么。
? ? ? ? 我看到那些人的照片，那些人被絕望的家人和朋友送來已經消失得無影無蹤。
? ? ? ? 我讀著被酷刑折磨的受害者的證據和他們受傷的照片。我打開過手寫的簡要判決、處決、綁架和強奸的目擊證詞。
? ? ? ? 我的許多同事曾經是政治犯,他們或背井離鄉，或流離失所，或逃亡流放，只因他們魯莽的反對他們的政府。
? ? ? ? 參觀我們辦公室的人包括那些提供信息，或試圖找出他們落下的那些人發生了什么。
? ? ? ? 我永遠不會忘記非洲酷刑受害者,一個不比我年長的年輕人，畢竟他在家鄉遭受了折磨后成了精神病患者。
? ? ? 他面對攝像機鏡頭控訴加在他身上的暴行時不禁瑟瑟發抖。
? ? ? 他比我高一個頭，看上去卻像一個孩子一樣脆弱。
? ? ? ? 我的工作是護送他回到地鐵站之后，這個生活被殘暴摧毀的男人禮貌地握著我的手，祝我前程似錦。
? ? ? ? 只要我活著我就能記得走在空無一人的走廊時，突然聽到從一個封閉的門后面傳來一聲我聞所未聞的痛苦和恐懼的尖叫。
? ? ? 門開著，研究者伸出她的頭，跟我說跑出去給坐在她旁邊的年輕人弄杯熱飲料。
她剛剛給他的消息是他的母親沒逮捕并處決了，他自己直言不諱的反對他國家政權的報復。
? ? ? ? 在我20歲出頭的工作周的每一天，我提醒自己生活在一個民選政府的國家是多么難以置信的幸運，那里法律陳述和公開審判每個人的權利。
? ? ? 每一天，我看到更多罪證是人類對自己的同類施加折磨以獲得或維持權力。
? ? ? 我開始做噩夢，書面上的噩夢，我看到的一些事情,聽到得和閱到的。
然而，我也在大赦國際學到了更多的有關我以前不知道的人類的善良。
大赦動員成千上萬的從來沒有為他們的信仰而受到折磨或監禁的人扮演他們爭取利益的代表。
人類同情的力量，引發集體行動，拯救生命,解放囚犯。
? ? ? ? 普通人，他們的個人健康和安全保證,大量聚集在一起來拯救他們不認識的人,永遠不會滿足。
? ? ? ? 我小小的參與這個過程是我一生中最卑微的和鼓舞人心的經歷之一。
不同于在這個星球上任何其他物種，人類可以學習和理解沒有經歷過的事情。
他們可以為別人設身處地的著想。
當然，這是一種力量，就像我虛構魔法的招牌，它在道德上是中立的。
? ? ? ? ?
【“在我們內心深處都有光明和黑暗，我們選擇哪部分起作用，我們實際上就是誰。”——羅琳】
一個可能會利用這種能力去操縱或控制,就像是理解或同情。
而很多人寧可不運用他們的想象力。
他們選擇在自己經驗的范圍內保持舒適，從來沒有不安的驚奇除他們之外生在別處的人是什么感受。
他們可以拒絕聽到尖叫或同輩坐牢；他們可以封閉任何痛苦不觸及他們自身的思想和心靈；他們可以拒絕知道。
我可能會被慫恿去嫉妒那些可以這樣生活的人，除了那些我認為他們做的噩夢不比我少的那些人。
選擇在狹小的空間生活會導致精神上的廣場恐怖癥的狀態，從而帶來了他們自己的恐懼。我認為肆意無趣的人會看到更多的怪物。
他們往往更加害怕。
更重要的是，那些選擇不去同情的人能成為真正的怪物。
因為我們自己沒有犯下徹底罪惡，通過自己的冷漠，我們與之狼狽為奸。
? ? ? 18歲那年，在古典文學走廊的盡頭我所冒險的我學過的很多事情之一，尋找一些我無法定義的，這是希臘作家普魯塔克所寫的：我們內心所獲得的將會改變外在的現實。
這是一個驚人的聲明，但在我們生活的每一天都被證明了千百遍。
它表示，在某種程度上，我們不可避免的與外界聯系，這一事實的存在僅僅在于我們觸摸別人的生活。
? ? ? 但能有多少，你作為2008年的哈佛畢業生，能夠觸碰別人的生活?
你的智慧、你努力工作的能力，你贏得了，得到了很好的教育，給你獨一無二的地位和獨特的職位。
? ? ? ? 甚至你們的國籍也讓你與眾不同。
絕大多數你屬于這個世界上唯一的超級大國。
? 你投票的方式、你的生活方式、你抗議的方式、你施加給政府的壓力有著超乎尋常的影響。
這是你的特權，也是你的負擔。
? ? ? ? 如果您選擇使用你的地位和影響力提高你的聲音代表那些沒有發言權的人；如果你選擇與不僅與強大也是無能為力的人感同身受；如果你保留的能力，想象自己的生活沒有你優渥的人，那么不僅你驕傲的家庭會慶祝你的存在，而且你幫助改變了普羅大眾的現實。
? ? 我們不需要用魔法改變世界，我們已經承載了自己內心所需的所有力量——我們有力量想象得更好。
? ? ? ?
【“如果只有一個人還記得開燈，即使在最黑暗的時光里也會有幸福。”——羅琳】
? 我幾乎要完成了。
對你們我有一個最后的希望，是一些有關我在21歲的事情。
畢業那天與我坐在一起的朋友成為了我生命中的朋友。
他們是我孩子的教父教母，我真正麻煩他們的時候，當我把他們的名字給死神的時候，那些足夠善良的人沒起訴我。
? ? ? 在我們的畢業典禮上，我們受到洪荒感情的約束，受我們已分享經歷的一去不復返的光陰約束,而且,當然,我們舉行一些攝影的知識證明如果我們中間有人競選總理將是異常寶貴的。
所以今天，我希望你能擁有同樣的友誼。
明天，我希望即使你不記得我的一個詞,你仍然要記得那些塞內卡，那些古老的羅馬人當我逃離古典文學走廊上時遇到的人，退出職業生涯階梯，去尋找古老的智慧：
生活是一個故事：重要的不是有多久，而是有多美好。
我希望你們所有人都活得很好。
? ? ? ? 非常感謝大家。
