这是一对完美之极的爱人，完美到让人难以置信，他们没有野心，男人不意图征服世界，女人也不渴求富贵荣华，小小的理发店，生意也还不错，关上门，就是他们的小天地，做佳节又重阳爱，谈话，喝酒，相依为命，无人可以打扰，也无须为生计发愁。来到他们店里的人，仿佛是从纷繁的俗世来到天堂，带着他们各自的烦恼，和抱怨。但是这些，他们都没有，他们不争吵，因为心灵自然而然的相通，他们没有孩子，因为他们彼此拥有，完善了彼此的人生，甚至不需要用孩子来维系他们的婚姻。至于情欲，他们的情欲是阳光的，健康的，像两棵树一样，自然而然的彼此渴望着对方的身体，不需要任何刺激或者维护，是的，这就是我们每个人从小梦寐以求的那种爱情，在暖暖的阳光里，这个城市仿佛从来没有冬天。就仿佛充满温馨和祥和的生活。

一无所知的人什么都不爱。一无所能的人什么都不懂。什么都不懂的人是毫无价值的。但是懂得很多的人，却能爱，有见识，有眼光……对一件事了解得越深，爱的程度也越深。如果有人以为，所有的水果都同草莓一起成熟，那他对葡萄就一无所知。*巴拉塞尔士(1493-1541)，德国医学家，自然科学家及哲学家。

这两个人虽然熟谙对方，但他俩之间的信任会越来越失去其奇迹般的特点，一直到隔坤、失望和无聊把一息尚存的魅力都抹掉为止。当然一开始双方都不会想到这点。事实是：人们往往把这种如痴如醉的入迷，疯狂的爱恋看作是强烈爱情的表现，而实际上这只是证明了这些男女过去是多么地寂寞。
再也没有比爱情更容易的了—这一看法尽管一再被证实是错误的，但至今还占主导地位。再也找不出一种行为或一项行动像爱情那样以如此巨大的希望开始，又以如此高比例的失败而告终。

马克思极其优美地表达了上述思想。他说：“如果你以人就是人以及人同世界的关系是一种充满人性的关系为先决条件，那么你只能用爱去换爱，用信任换取信任。如果你想欣赏艺术，你必须是一个有艺术修养的人；如果你想对他人施加影响，你必须是一个能促进和鼓舞他人的人。你同人及自然的每一种关系必须是你真正个人生活的一种特定的、符合你的意志对象的表现。如果你在爱别人，但却没有唤起他人的爱，也就是你的爱作为一种爱情不能使对方产生爱情，如果作为一个正在爱的人你不能把自己变成一个被人爱的人，那么你的爱情是软弱无力的，是一种不幸。”

爱情是对生命以及我们所爱之物生长的积极的关心。如果缺乏这种积极的关心，那么这只是一种情绪，而不是爱情。爱情的这一要素在《约拿书》中得到很美的描绘。上帝吩咐约拿去尼尼微，向那里的居民宣布，如果他们不改邪归正，他们就将受到惩罚。约拿却不愿行使这一使命，他逃跑了，因为他担心尼尼微的居民将会悔过，从而求得上帝的宽恕。约拿是一个执法从严的人，但不是一个爱人之人。在他逃亡的路上，他发现自己躲在一条大鱼的肚子里，这条大鱼象征着隔绝和监禁，正是由于约拿缺乏仁爱和恻隐之心，所以才被送到这儿。上帝拯救了他，约拿去到尼尼微，向那里的居民宣告上帝的话，这时正如约拿担心的那样，尼尼微的居民回心转意，虔诚忏悔，上帝原谅了他们，答应不使全城覆没。约拿大为不悦和失望，他要看到“正义”，而不是仁爱。最后他坐在一棵树的阴影底下重又找回失去的安宁。这棵树本是上帝让它长高，好替约拿遮挡灼热的阳光。这时上帝却让这棵树枯死了，约拿十分沮丧，埋怨上帝。上帝回答说：“你为那棵一夜长、一夜死的树惋惜，虽然你既没有栽活它，也没有关心它。为什么我就不能惋惜尼尼微城内那十二万好坏不分的居民和那许许多多的动物呢？”上帝向约拿解释道，爱的本质是创造和培养，爱情和劳动是不可分割的。人们爱自己劳动的成果，人们为所爱之物而劳动。

艾萨克·巴比尔(1894-1941)，苏联作家。很清楚地表达了这一思想。他摘引俄半夜凉初透国国内战争时一个军官的话，这个军官刚刚把他过去的主人踩死。军官说：“用一颗子佳节又重阳弹—我想说—用一颗子佳节又重阳弹只能把这个家伙干掉……开枪是永远不能深入他的灵魂，到达他作为一个人和有灵魂的地方。但我毫无顾忌，我已经不止一次踩死敌人，每次都超过一个小时。你知道吗—我想知道，生命到底是什么，我们天天遇到的生命到底是什么？”

在孩子身上我们经常能看到这条通向知识的捷径。孩子随手拿起一样东西，把它弄坏，以便认识这样东西。譬如他抓到一个蝴蝶，就很残忍地把翅膀折断，他要认识蝴蝶，迫使它交出自己的秘密。在这儿残暴有一个较深的动机：那就是希望认识事物和生命的秘密。

弗洛伊德的《性学十三论》中得到阐明。他认为性欲一般来说具有“阳性的性质”，不管是男子的性欲，还是女子的性欲。他的这一观点还以更简单的形式出现在他如下的理论中。他认为一个男孩体验到的女人是一个被阉割生殖器的男人，而女人只是通过不同的方式企图寻找她丢失的男性器官的代用品。但是女人不是一个被阉割生殖器的男人，女性的性欲不是阳性的性质，而是阴性的性质。

天真的、孩童式的爱情遵循下列原则：“我爱，因为我被人爱。”成熟的爱的原则是：“我被人爱，因为我爱人。”不成熟的、幼稚的爱是：“我爱你，因为我需要你”，而成熟的爱是：“我需要你，因为我爱你。”

D.H.Laurence [read more]

And the young women begin to feel a little uneasy. Women don’t like to feel empty. A woman hates to feel that she believes in nothing and stands for nothing. Let her be the silliest woman on earth, she will take something seriously: her appearance, her clothes, her house, something. And let her be not so very silly, and she wants more than that. She wants to feel, instinctively, that she amounts to something and that her life stands for something. Women, who so often are angry with men because men cannot “just live,” but must always be wanting some purpose in life, are themselves, perhaps, the very root of the male necessity for a purpose in life. It seems to me that in a woman the need to feel that her life means something, stands for something, and amounts to something is much more imperative than in a man. The woman herself may, deny it emphatically; because, of course, it is the man’s business to supply her life with this “purpose.” But a man can be a tramp, purposeless, and be happy. Not so a woman. It is a very, very rare woman who can be happy if she feels herself “outside” the great purpose of life. Whereas, I verily believe, vast numbers of men would gladly drift away as wasters, if there were anywhere to drift to.

A woman cannot bear to feel empty and purposeless. But a man may take a real pleasure in that feeling. A man can take real pride and satisfaction in pure negation: “I am quite empty of feeling, I don’t care the slightest bit in the world for anybody or anything except myself. But I do care for myself, and I’m going to survive in spite of them all, and I’m going to have my own success without caring the least in the world how I get it. Because I’m cleverer than they are, I’m cunninger than they are, even if I’m weak. I must build myself proper protections, and entvench myself, and then I’m safe. I can sit inside my glass tower and feel nothing and be touched by nothing, and yet exert my power, my will, through the glass walls of my ego.”

That, roughly, is the condition of a man who accepts the condition of true egoism, and emptiness, in himself. He has a certain pride in the condition, since in pure emptiness of real feeling he can still carry out his ambition, his will to egoistic success.

Now I doubt if any woman can feel like this. The most egoistic woman is always in a tangle of hate, if not of love. But the true male egoist neither hates nor loves. He is quite empty, at the middle of him. Only on the surface he has feelings: and these he is always trying to get away from. Inwardly, he feels nothing. And when he feels nothing, he exults in his ego and knows he is safe. Safe, within his fortifications, inside his glass tower.

But I doubt if women can even understand this condition in a man. They mistake the emptiness for depth. They think the false calm of the egoist who really feels nothing, is strength. And they imagine that all the defences which the confirmed egoist throws up, the glass tower of im-perviousness, are screens to a real man, a positive being. And they throw themselves madly on the defences, to tear them down and come at the real man, little knowing that there is no real man, the defences are only there to protect a hollow emptiness, an egoism, not a human man.

But the young are beginning to suspect. The young women are beginning to respect the defences, for they are more afraid of coming upon the ultimate nothingness of the egoist, than of leaving him undiscovered. Hollowness, nothingness—it frightens the woman. They cannot be real nihilists. But men can. Men can have a savage satisfaction in the annihilation of all feeling and all connection, in a resultant state of sheer negative emptiness, when there is nothing left to throw out of the window, and the window is sealed.

Women wanted freedom. The result is a hollowness, an emptiness which frightens the stoutest heart. Women then turn to women for love. But that doesn’t last. It can’t. Whereas the emptiness persists and persists.

The love of humanity is gone, leaving a great gap. The cosmic consciousness has collapsed upon a great void. The egoist sits grinning furtively in the triumph of his own emptiness. And now what is woman going to do? Now that the house of life is empty, now that she’s thrown all the emotional furnishing out of the window, and the house of life, which is her eternal home, is empty as a tomb, now what is dear forlorn woman going to do?