Love Begins in Winter读后感100字

《Love Begins in Winter》是一本由Simon Van Booy著作，Harper Perennial出版的Paperback图书，本书定价：USD 13.99，页数：226，特精心收集的读后感，希望对大家能有帮助。

《Love Begins in Winter》读后感(一)：人生的地图：Love Begins in Winter (Story 1) 随感

My father once told me that coincidences mean you're on the right path. [不是巧合，而是机缘。]

在一些并非科班出身的作家身上有一个优点，就是他们对各种类型的文艺作品都持有相当的开放态度。他们欣赏音乐、欣赏绘画雕塑、欣赏诗歌文学，甚至如看待作品那样去欣赏人，并向他们投射自己的理解，仿佛是在重新发现和理解着自己。而这些闪耀的作品，承载着爱，彰示着美，其总和如一张人生的地图，按此我们可以寻至人类生命的某处。

虽然如此，总有一些时刻，那些我们生命中所经历过的作品并不能覆盖的区域，一些具体鲜活的生命时刻，我们手足无措、沉默无言。如童年挚友的突然离世，或者与生命伴侣的初遇。

不过说来，大概这就是我既喜欢主流的经典文学，又喜欢边缘而小众的文艺作品的原因吧。二者都是人类生命地图上的刻痕，真而美。

《Love Begins in Winter》读后感(二)：巧合

"I think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life. "

这句话出现在开头第五页位置。想说说它的出处。

博尔赫斯在This Craft of Verse第五部分开头第一句：

Walter Pater wrote that all art aspires to the condition of music.

再看注释里Pater的原话：

“All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.” Walter Pater, “The School of Giorgione,” in Pater, Studies in the History of the Renaissance （1873）

这句话说得很对也很美。“语言（Pater的‘所有的艺术’）一定（都）曾立志成为音乐”。

至于理由，博尔赫斯是这么说的：in music, form and substance cannot be torn asunder——即结构与内容的完美的一体性；范•布伊则说：Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life——人获得了超然于生命的（也许是divine的）、足以用于面对上帝的“语言”。

两种都是很好的解释。

这是由范•布伊的这本书引出的一点随想。

《Love Begins in Winter》读后感(三)：Excerpts.

If there is such a thing as marriage, it takes place long before the ceremony: in a car on the way to the airport; or as a gray bedroom fills with dawn, one lover watching the other; or as two strangers stand together on the rain with no bus in sight, arms weighed down with shopping bags. You don't know then. But later you realize— that was the moment.

And always without words.

Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.

How could two people know each other so intimately without ever having told the old stories？ You get to an age where the stories don't matter anymore, and the stories once told so passionately become a tide that never quite reaches the point of being said. And there is no such thing as fate, but there are no accidents either.

Love is like life but starts before and continues after— we arrive and depart in the middle.

Every moment is the paradox of now or never.

People's expectations of coupling may be too grand, and thus disappointment, loneliness, and often pain are the inevitable adjuncts of something we thought would be the ultimate answer(an emotional cure-all) to our ongoing fears.

All wars are the external realization of our internal battles. Humans must learn not to blame each other for being afraid, disappointed, or in pain. We perhaps might learn to view those we have special feelings toward as being our companions rather than our saviors, companions on the journey back to childhood. But there is nothing to find. We must only unravel. And in the meantime— lower our expectations of each other (and ourselves!) in order to 'love' more deeply and more humanly.

It's true the people we meet shape us. But the people we don't meet shape us also, often more because we have imagined them so vividly. There are people we yearn for but never seem to meet. Every adult yearns for some strangers, but it's really childhood we miss. We are yearning for that which has been stolen from us by what we have become.

If you are not here, then why are you everywhere？

A gentle reminder that what we have is already lost.

《Love Begins in Winter》读后感(四)：Someone who trigger a part of our childhood memories

细腻的文笔，优美的句子，字里行间透出孤独沉寂的氛围。五个不同的故事，故事里没有热情激烈让人沉醉的爱情，而是主人公们如何摆脱各种童年阴影最后收获温暖，继而收获爱情，得到救赎的历程。

All wars are the external realization of our internal battles. Humans must learn not to blame each other for being afraid, disappointed, or in pain. We perhaps might learn to view those we have special feelings toward as being our companions rather than our saviors, companions on the journey back to childhood. But there is nothing o find. We must only unravel. And in the meantime—lower our expectations of each other (and ourselves!) in order to “love” more deeply and more humanly.

There are people we yearn for but never seem to meet. Every adult yearns for some stranger, but it is really childhood we miss. We are yearning for that which has been stolen from us by what we have become.

我想是不是像书里的医学博士所说，我们之所以需要另一半，是因为我们的童年给我们带来的影响太深，我们需要人来填补自己童年的缺口，洗刷童年的阴影？我们需要伴侣来拯救我们孤苦的灵魂？

也许是也许不是。但也许对于自己童年经历感受太过深刻的人，他们的童年经历对于他们寻找另一半有着深远的影响。

与书里的主人公不同，也许我的童年实在太过快乐。我没有兄弟姐妹，没有问题父母，我不需要谁来温暖我缺失的内心，我也不需要去摆脱任何童年阴影。相反，我只想找回童年的快乐。也许是因为这样，我喜欢能给我带来童年快乐感觉的人。

正如我第一个疯狂迷恋的女生，我终于反复琢磨明白了我到底迷恋她什么。我想除了那种击中灵魂的宿命感，她能让我感受到我曾经感受到的那种童年般的快乐。但是咱们其实是两个世界的人，两个除了网络以外永远不会有交集的人。

No beauty without decay. Every moment is the paradox of now or never.

这句话曾经让我产生触动。那个励志的故事我会永远记得，它曾经带给我出国拼搏找寻自我的勇气，虽然我决定不出国了。

我很喜欢书里字里行间描绘出的那种孤寂的氛围。追求灵魂感的人，孤独在所难免。因为不能委曲求全，所以宁愿孤独一人。

这是我今年看的第二本英文原著小说，我反复看了两遍。英文原著的意境还是只能用英文体会，翻译过来就变了味。书里有很多优美又带着哲理的句子，以下是一些我喜欢的句子摘抄：

Lovers come here too and walk the city at dusk. You can see them in the promenade, sharing an umbrella, huddled together, stopping only to kiss and stare down at a cold black river dabbed with patches of streetlight.

Music is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.

I firmly believe that while lies and deception destroy love, they can also build and defend it.

Love requires imagination more than experience.

Los Angeles is a place where dreams balance forever on the edge of coming true. A city on a cliff held fast by its own weight.

Solitude and depression are like swimming and drowning.

The most important notes in music are the ones that wait until sound has entered the ear before revealing their true nature. They are the spaces between the sounds that blow through the heart, knocking things over.

Grief is sometimes a quiet but obsessive madness. Coincidences are something too great to ignore.

It was inevitable that we meet. Like rivers, we had been flowing on a course for one another.

You don't know then. But later you realize that was the moment.

And always without words.

You get to an age where the stories don't matter anymore, and the stories once told so passionately become a tide that never quite reaches the point of being said. And there is no such thing as fate, but there are no accidents either.

Love is like life but starts before and continues after—we arrive and depart in the middle.

No beauty without decay. I read that somewhere else.

Every moment is the paradox of now or never.

The force pulling on me was more powerful than I could have imagined. But I was the one who held on. I was not captive but captor.

Then Brian and I watched as Jennifer buried her face in her hands as though she were watching a slide show of her life projected across her palms.

After that long visit, the novelty of upper-middle-class New York life wore off and I appreciated the city for what it was, an indifferent, throbbing pulse with an infinite number of chances to reinvent yourself.

The idea of fate is really only a matter of genetics now. But what’s interesting is how so many significant events in my life have come from seemingly random things. Freedom is the most exciting of life’s terrors: I’d decided on whim to walk into a bookstore. There was Brian.

I’ve always believed that the future is hung with keys that unlock our true feelings about some past event.

The medal lay flat upon his chest, inside his shirt. He could feel the weight of it pulling on the back of his neck like an omen of hope and success.

In love with a Canadian girl, a Romany hero soars.

Age is a plow that unearths the true nature of things. But only after the moment has passed and we are powerless to change anything, are we granted wisdom. As though we are living backward.

While they---his two daughters---talk to their friends on the phone, help string the tree with tinsel, or stare out the window at fading shadows, at the happy sadness of yesterday, the promise of tomorrow.

Life had not turned out the way he thought. His job was uninteresting and he felt that his life was nothing more than a light that would blink once in the history of the universe and then be forgotten.

Love between strangers takes only a few seconds and can last a whole life.