诺贝尔文学奖颁奖仪式上的致辞 本文关键词：诺贝尔，致辞，文学奖，颁奖，仪式
诺贝尔文学奖颁奖仪式上的致辞 本文简介：诺贝尔文学奖颁奖仪式上的致辞威廉·福克纳（WilliamFaulkner1897-1962）我感到这份奖赏不是授予我个人而是授予我的工作的，——授予我一生从事关于人类精神的呕心沥血的工作。我从事这项工作，不是为名，更不是为利，而是为了从人的精神原料中创造出一些从前不曾有过的东西。因此，这份奖金只不过
诺贝尔文学奖颁奖仪式上的致辞 本文内容：
诺贝尔文学奖颁奖仪式上的致辞
威廉·福克纳（William
Faulkner
1897-1962）
我感到这份奖赏不是授予我个人而是授予我的工作的，
——授予我一生从事关于人类精神的呕心沥血的工作。我从事这项工作，不是为名，更不是为利，而是为了从人的精神原料中创造出一些从前不曾有过的东西。因此，这份奖金只不过是托我保管而已。作出符合这份奖赏的原意与目的，与其奖金部分有相等价值的献词并不难，但我还愿意利用这个时刻，利用这个举世瞩目的讲坛，向那些可能听到我说话并已献身于同一艰苦劳动的男、女青年致敬。
他们中肯定有人有一天也会站到我现在站着的地方来的。
我们今天的悲剧是人们普遍存在一种生理上的恐惧，
这种恐惧存在已久，以致我们已经习惯了。现在不存在精神上的问题，唯一的问题是：我什么时候会被炸得粉身碎骨？正因为此，今天从事写作的男、女青年已经忘记了人类内心的冲突。然而，只有接触到这种内心冲突才能产生出好作品，因为这是唯一值得写、值得呕心沥血地去写的题材。
他一定要重新认识这些问题。他必须使自己明白世间最可鄙的事情莫过于恐惧。他必须使自己永远忘却恐惧，在他的工作室里除了心底古老的真理之外，不允许任何别的东西有容身之地。没有这古老的普遍真理，任何小说都只能昙花一现，不会成功；这些真理就是爱情、荣誉、怜悯、自尊、同情与牺牲等感情。若是他做不到这样，他的气力终归白费。他不是写爱情而是写情欲，他写的失败是没有人失去可贵东西的失败，他写的胜利是没有希望、更糟地是，甚至没有怜悯或同情的胜利。他不是为遍地白骨而悲伤，所以留不下深刻的痕迹。他不是在写心灵而是在写器官。
在他重新懂得这些之前，他写作时，就犹如站在处于世界末日的人类中去观察末日的来临。我不接受人类末日的说法。因人能传种接代而说人是不朽的，这很容易。说即使最后一次钟声已经消失，消失在再也没有潮水冲刷的映在落日余晖里的海上的最后一块无用礁石旁时，还会有一个声音，人类微弱的、不断的说话声，这也很容易。但是我不能接受这种说法。我相信人类不仅能传种接代，而且能战胜一切而永存。人之不朽不是因为在动物中惟独他永远能发言，而是因为他有灵魂，有同情心，有牺牲和忍耐精神。
诗人和作家的责任就是把这些写出来。诗人和作家的特殊光荣就是去鼓舞人的斗志，使人记住过去曾经有过的光荣——人类曾有过的勇气、荣誉、希望、自尊、同情、怜悯与牺牲精神——已达到不朽。诗人的声音不应只是人类的记录，而应是使人类永存并得到胜利的支柱和栋梁。
英文原文
Nobel
Prize
Acceptance
Speech
/
William
Faulkner
I
feel
that
this
award
was
not
made
to
me
as
a
man,but
to
my
work
--
a
life
s
work
in
the
agony
and
sweat
of
the
human
spirit,not
for
glory
and
least
of
all
for
profit,but
to
create
out
of
the
materials
of
the
human
spirit
something
which
did
not
exist
before.
So
this
award
is
only
mine
in
trust.
It
will
not
be
difficult
to
find
a
dedication
for
the
money
part
of
it
commensurate
with
the
purpose
and
significance
of
its
origin.
But
I
would
like
to
do
the
same
with
the
acclaim
too,by
using
this
moment
as
a
pinnacle
from
which
I
might
be
listened
to
by
the
young
men
and
women
already
dedicated
to
the
same
anguish
and
travail,among
whom
is
already
that
one
who
will
some
day
stand
here
where
I
am
standing.
Our
tragedy
today
is
a
general
and
universal
physical
fear
so
long
sustained
by
now
that
we
can
even
bear
it.
There
are
no
longer
problems
of
the
spirit.
There
is
only
the
question:
When
will
I
be
blown
up?
Because
of
this,the
young
man
or
woman
writing
today
has
forgotten
the
problems
of
the
human
heart
in
conflict
with
itself
which
alone
can
make
good
writing
because
only
that
is
worth
writing
about,worth
the
agony
and
the
sweat.
He
must
learn
them
again.
He
must
teach
himself
that
the
basest
of
all
things
is
to
be
afraid;
and,teaching
himself
that,forget
it
forever,leaving
no
room
in
his
workshop
for
anything
but
the
old
verities
and
truths
of
the
heart,the
old
universal
truths
lacking
which
any
story
is
ephemeral
and
doomed
--
love
and
honor
and
pity
and
pride
and
compassion
and
sacrifice.
Until
he
does
so,he
labors
under
a
curse.
He
writes
not
of
love
but
of
lust,of
defeats
in
which
nobody
loses
anything
of
value,of
victories
without
hope
and,worst
of
all,without
pity
or
compassion.
His
griefs
grieve
on
no
universal
bones,leaving
no
scars.
He
writes
not
of
the
heart
but
of
the
glands.
Until
he
relearns
these
things,he
will
write
as
though
he
stood
among
and
watched
the
end
of
man.
I
decline
to
accept
the
end
of
man.
It
is
easy
enough
to
say
that
man
is
immortal
simply
because
he
will
endure:
that
when
the
last
ding-dong
of
doom
has
clanged
and
faded
from
the
last
worthless
rock
hanging
tideless
in
the
last
red
and
dying
evening,that
even
then
there
will
still
be
one
more
sound:
that
of
his
puny
inexhaustible
voice,still
talking.
I
refuse
to
accept
this.
I
believe
that
man
will
not
merely
endure:
he
will
prevail.
He
is
immortal,not
because
he
alone
among
creatures
has
an
inexhaustible
voice,but
because
he
has
a
soul,a
spirit
capable
of
compassion
and
sacrifice
and
endurance.
The
poet
s,the
writer
s,duty
is
to
write
about
these
things.
It
is
his
privilege
to
help
man
endure
by
lifting
his
heart,by
reminding
him
of
the
courage
and
honor
and
hope
and
pride
and
compassion
and
pity
and
sacrifice
which
have
been
the
glory
of
his
past.
The
poet
s
voice
need
not
merely
be
the
record
of
man,it
can
be
one
of
the
props,the
pillars
to
help
him
endure
and
prevail.