Years ago, when I started looking for my first job, wise advisers said, "Barbara, be enthusiastic!
Enthusiasm will take you further than any amount of experience." How right they were!
     "Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. It is the paste
that helps you hang on there when the going gets tough. It is the inner voice that whispers, "I can do it!"
when others shout, "No, you can't!" It took years and years for the early work of Barbara Mc Clintock,
a geneticist (遺傳學(xué)家) who won the 1983 Nobel Prize in medicine, to be generally accepted. Yet she
didn't let up on (放松) her experiments. Work was such a deep pleasure for her that she never thought
of stopping.
     We are all born with wide-eyed, enthusiastic wonder and it is this childlike wonder that gives
enthusiastic people such youthful air, whatever their age. At 90, cellist (大提琴家) Pablo Casals would
start his day by playing Bach. As the music flowed through his fingers, his bent shoulders would
straighten and joy would reappear in his eyes. As author and poet Samuel once wrote, "Years make the
skin old, but to give up enthusiasm makes the soul old."
     Enthusiastic people also love what they do, regardless of money, title or power. Patricia Mcllrath,
retired director of the Missouri Repertory Theater in Kansas City, was once asked where she got her
enthusiasm. She replied, "My father, a lawyer, long ago told me, I never made a penny until I stopped
working for money."
     If we cannot do what we love as a fulltime career, we can do it as a hobby. Elizabeth Layton of
Wellsville, Kan, was 68 before she began to draw. This activity ended her sadness that had troubled her
for at least 30 years, and the quality of her work led one critic to say, "I am persuaded to call Layton a
genius."
     We can't afford to waste tears on "might-have-beens". We need to turn the tears into sweat as we go
after "what-can-be". We need to live each moment whole-heartedly, with all our senses — finding
pleasure in the sweet smell of a backyard garden, the simple picture of a six-year-old, and the beauty
of a rainbow.              

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     I don't ever want to talk about being a woman scientist again. There was a time in my life when people asked constantly for stories about what it's like to work in a field dominated by men. I was never very
good at telling those stories because truthfully I never found them interesting. What I do find interesting
is the origin of the universe, the shape of space-time and the nature of black holes.
     At 19, when I began studying astrophysics (天體物理學(xué)), it did not bother me in the least to be the
only woman in the classroom. But while earning my Ph.D. at MIT and then as 3 post-doctor doing space
research, the issue started to bother me. My every achievement-jobs, research papers, awards-was
viewed through the lens of gender (性別) politics. So were my failures. Sometimes, when I was pushed
into an argument on left brain versus (相對(duì)于) right brain, or nature versus nurture (培育), I would
instantly fight fiercely on my behalf and all womankind.
     Then one day a few years ago, out of my mouth came a sentence that would finally become my reply
to any and all provocations: I don't talk about that anymore. It took me 10 years to get back the
confidence I had at 19 and to realize that I didn't want to deal with gender issues. Why should curing
sexism be yet another terrible burden on every female scientist? After all, I don't study sociology or
political theory.
     Today I research and teach at Barnard, a women's college in New York City. Recently, someone
asked me how many of the 45 students in my class were women. You cannot imagine my satisfaction
at being able to answer: 45. I know some of my students worry how they will manage their scientific
research and a desire for children. And I don't dismiss those concerns. Still, I don't tell them "war"
stories. Instead, I have given them this: the visual of their physics professor heavily pregnant (懷孕)
doing physics experiments. And in turn they have given me the image of 45 women driven by a love of
science. And that's a sight worth talking about.

     The English are famous for their manners. The phrase, "Manners make the man" was coined by
Englishman William of Wykeham back in 1324, but they're just as important today. Books are written
on the subject; advice columns in magazines tell people how to behave; and "finishing schools" still exist
to ensure that young girls become young "ladies".
      The best example of English manners is in their mastery of the art of forming a queue. It is a popular
joke in England (the land of sporting failures) to say, "If only queuing was an Olympic sport, we'd win
hands down." No one knows exactly how and when it started, but queuing plays an important role in the
English social make-up. School children are taught to queue for roll-call, assembly and lunch, and English
people across the land form orderly queues at shops, banks, cinemas and bus-stops every day. The
English obviously aren't the only people who queue, but they seem to do it better than anyone else. As
one visitor said, "I have travelled across Europe, the Middle and Far East and nowhere have I seen the
single-file queues which are formed in England."
     The English are also famously polite when it comes to language. Whereas many other notions are more direct in their communication, the English prefer a more indirect form of asking for things. For example,
an American who wants to talk to a colleague might say, "Got a minute?"; however an English person will
often use a more indirect means of requesting the chat, "Sorry to bother you, but would you possibly have a minute or so to have a quick chat if you don't mind, please?"
     The English also love to apologize for things. When squeezing past someone, people say "Sorry". And
they will apologize if you bump into them, "Whoops! Sorry! My fault." In fact, no one seems to say
"Sorry" as much as the English: "Sorry I'm late. /Sorry I forgot to call you last night./I'm sorry you didn't
get the e-mail." And so on. They also like to use "Please" and "Thank you" a lot. In a shop, they will say, "I'd like a packet of crisp, please. Thanks." British students thank their lectures, and bosses often thank
their employees for doing their jobs.          

     Ever thought you'd get to experience the smell of ancient Egyptian queen Cleopatra's hair, or the
scent(氣味)of the sun? Visitors to the Reg Vardy Gallery will soon be able to do just that.    
     The gallery, at Sunderland University, England, is holding a new exhibition, If There Ever Was. It
focuses on scent rather than sight．
     The creative idea is the brainchild of curator Robert Blackson.His inspiration came from reading the
book Fast Food Nation. The book discussed the use of artificial chemicals to flavor things such as
milkshakes, making them smell and taste like strawberries, when they're not actually made from them.
     A smell can often call up memories such as school dinners or a childhood holiday by the sea, but the
smells on display, will allow visitors to experience smells their noses won't have been able to pick out
before.
     "There's various different smells, including some extinct flowers," explains Blackson. "Some have been
gone for hundreds of years."
     One extraordinary smell is the consequence of the first atomic bomb, dropped on Japan on August
6, 1945.
     There is also the smell of Cleopatra's hair, based on incense that was popular among ancient Egyptians.
     The Soviet Mir space station, which burnt up in the atmosphere in 2001, smells of charred(燒焦的)
material(the space station caught fire).
     Among the strange smells is the "surface of the sun".
     "It is hard to sum up. It is an atmospheric smell, like walking into a room when the sun has been
pouring in," says Blackson. "It gives a freshness, a sun kissed feel with a bit of metal. If you can say
something smells hot, this is it."
     A team of 11, including perfume designers, have been working on recreating the smells for the
exhibition. James Wong, a botanist at Botanic Gardens Conservation International, UK, helped in the
recreation of the smells of four extinct flowering plants.
     He did this by closely linking the extinct flowers with the smells of existing ones. With the help of
historical reports of how the extinct flowers smelled, he was able to remix the smell.
     The exhibition runs until June 6. Fourteen extinct and impossible smells are on display.

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