清晨，金黃色的太陽在海面上閃耀。千百成群出來覓食的海鷗，為了爭奪一條小魚，或幾遍麵包屑，一齊尖聲呼叫，互不相讓。岳納珊看了，好不心煩。岳納珊是一隻海鷗的名字。他遠遠離開那些同伴，獨自練習飛行。為了追求理想，他忍受孤獨，忍受譏嘲，忍受痛苦，立志要飛得快，飛得高，飛得漂亮。
It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of agentle sea. A mile from shore a fishing boat chummed the water. and theword for Breakfast Flock flashed through the air, till a crowd of athousand seagulls came to dodge and fight for bits of food. It was anotherbusy day beginning. But way off alone, out by himself beyond boat and shore, JonathanLivingston Seagull was practicing. A hundred feet in the sky he loweredhis webbed feet, lifted his beak, and strained to hold a painful hardtwisting curve through his wings. The curve meant that he would flyslowly, and now he slowed until the wind was a whisper in his face, untilthe ocean stood still beneath him. He narrowed his eyes in fierceconcentration, held his breath, forced one... single... more... inch...of... curve... Then his featliers ruffled, he stalled and fell. Seagulls, as you know, never falter, never stall. To stall in the airis for them disgrace and it is dishonor. But Jonathan Livingston Seagull, unashamed, stretching his wingsagain in that trembling hard curve - slowing, slowing, and stalling oncemore - was no ordinary bird.
清晨，金黃色的太陽在海面上閃耀。千百成群出來覓食的海鷗，為了爭奪一條小魚，或幾遍麵包屑，一齊尖聲呼叫，互不相讓。岳納珊看了，好不心煩。岳納珊是一隻海鷗的名字。他遠遠離開那些同伴，獨自練習飛行。為了追求理想，他忍受孤獨，忍受譏嘲，忍受痛苦，立志要飛得快，飛得高，飛得漂亮。
It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of agentle sea. A mile from shore a fishing boat chummed the water. and theword for Breakfast Flock flashed through the air, till a crowd of athousand seagulls came to dodge and fight for bits of food. It was anotherbusy day beginning. But way off alone, out by himself beyond boat and shore, JonathanLivingston Seagull was practicing. A hundred feet in the sky he loweredhis webbed feet, lifted his beak, and strained to hold a painful hardtwisting curve through his wings. The curve meant that he would flyslowly, and now he slowed until the wind was a whisper in his face, untilthe ocean stood still beneath him. He narrowed his eyes in fierceconcentration, held his breath, forced one... single... more... inch...of... curve... Then his featliers ruffled, he stalled and fell. Seagulls, as you know, never falter, never stall. To stall in the airis for them disgrace and it is dishonor. But Jonathan Livingston Seagull, unashamed, stretching his wingsagain in that trembling hard curve - slowing, slowing, and stalling oncemore - was no ordinary bird.
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