Translate the paragraph into Chinese. We know what the sea looks like from a distance: It is of one colour, and level, and obviously cannot contain such creatures as fish. But if we look into the sea over the edge of a boat, we see a dozen colours and fish swimming in them. That sea is the English character--calm and even. These depths and the colours are the English romanticism and the English sensitiveness-- we do not expect to find such things, but they exist. And -- to continue my metaphor-- the fish are the English emotions, which are always trying to get up to the surface, but don't quite know how. For the most part we see them moving far below, distorted and obscure. Now and then they succeed and we exclaim, "Why, the Engl i shman has emotions! He actually can feel!" And occasionally we see that beautiful creature, the flying fish, which rises out of the water altogether into the air and the sunlight. English literature is a flying fish. It is a sample of the life that goes on day after day beneath the surface; it is a proof that beauty and emotion exist in the salty, inhospitable sea.