Translate the following passage into Chinese. My mother, dead now to this world but still roaming free in my mind, wakes me some mornings before daybreak. “If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a quitter.” I have heard her say that all my life. Now, lying in bed, coming awake in the dark, I feel the fury of her energy fighting the good-for-nothing idler within me who wants to go back to sleep instead of tackling the brand-new day. Silently I protest: I am not a child anymore. I have made something. of myself. I am entitled to sleep late. “Russell, you've got no more gumption than a bump on a log.” She has hounded me with these battle cries since I was a boy in short pants. “Make something of yourself!” “Don't be a quitter!” “Have a little ambition, Buddy.”