英语美文欣赏（精选16篇）
无论是身处学校还是步入社会，说起美文，大家肯定都不陌生吧？随着时代的发展，读者对美文的要求也在不断变化，因此人们对美文的要求也在不断变化，那么你真的知道要怎么写美文吗？下面是小编为大家收集的英语美文欣赏，欢迎大家分享。
英语美文欣赏 1
Long, long ago, there was a good and honest man,whose name was Yohyo.He lived in a small village and worked as a woodcutter.
One cold day in winter, when deep snow lay on the ground, Yohyo was returning home from his work in the forest. Over his shouider he carrid a sack of wood1, and as it was near evening and it was getting very cold, he hurried on across the snow-coverd fields. Suddenly he saw something black lying in the snow-something that moved and cried. He stopped, and putting down his sack, he went to see what it was. As he got near, the object in the snow cried again, and he could see that it was a crane-a large and beautiful bird with long legs.
When the crane saw Yohyo coming closer, it struggled to rise and he could see that one of its wings was hurt.
“You pour thing!” he cried. “Come2, let me help you. If you stay out here in the snow, you will die.”
The crane stopped struggling and let Yohyo pick it up3. Gently and carefully, he stroked the crane’s feathers, and carrying it under one arm, he set off for home again.
Yohyo was a kind man with a gentle heart and he felt sorry for the beautiful crane4. He looked after it until it was well again, and then he set it free to fly off into the sky.
One night, afew days later, Yohyo heard someone knocking ant the door. When he opened the door, he found a women standing in the snow. By the light of his lamp, Yohyo could see that she was young and beautiful, and shaking with cold. Yohyo stared at her in surprise.
“I have lost my way in the snow,” she said, in a sweet and gentle voice. “My I come into your house and stay for the night?”
“Yes, yes, of course! Come in at once, out of the snow,” cried Yohyo.
He build up the fire again with fresh wood, and brought the young woman rice an hot soup. Her name was Otsu and she was as king and gentle as Yohyo homself.
The next day there was a storm and so Otsu stayed on at the house and Yohyo grew to love her. Otsu, also, loved him for his gentle heart, and soon they were married.
Yohyo and Otsu were happy together, although Yohyo earned only a little money and they were very poor. One night, just before New Year’ Eve, they were sitting together as usual, when Otsu noticed that her husband was worrying about something.
“My dear husband,” she said. “What are you worrying about? Please tell me.”
“Well…” sighed Yohyo. “It is nearly New Year’ Eve, but I cannot make any preparation for the feast because I have no money. I have not even enough money to buy rice and cakes. How I wish I had some money…”
Otsu listened to him silently.
“Yohyo, I will weave for you,” she said. “You can take the cloth that I weave5 and sell it at the market to earn some money.”
“But, please do not look into the other room, while I am working, promise me that you will not look in?”
Yohyo promised, and Otsu went into the other room and began to weave some cloth. She was working for hours ang Yohyo get tired of waiting, but he was patient. At last Otsu came out with a piece of beautiful cloth in her hands. It was the most beautiful cloth that Yohyo had ever seen.
The next morning he set off to the market in the town, and sold the piece of cloth for a lot of maney. Yohyo had never had so much money in his life. He was very excited and he bought many things with it. Soon, in his excitement, he had spent all the money, so he went home and asked Otsu to weave another piece of cloth. So greedy did he become, that he did not notice that the more she worked, the thinner Otsu became. However, as she loved Yoho very much, she wove new cloth for him every time he asked for it.
One day Yohyo asked for some cloth once again, and Otsu said, as usual, “I will weave for you but remember your promise-don’t look into the other room while I am working.”
Yohyo promised and sat down to wait but he soon got tierd of waiting for her. He could hear the sound of weaving, and he began to ask himself why he could not look in at Otsu, while she was working. Once he began to have doubts he could not stop himself from looking in.
He thought, “Otsu won’t be angry with me if I look in only for a moment.”
Finally, he could wait no longer. He crept to the entrance of the other room and looked in. Otsu was not there at all! Instead, he saw a very thin crane which wass pulling off its feathers and weaving them into the cloth. Yohyorecognised it as the very same crane whose life he saved so many months ago.
He crept away again and sat thinking quietly. He felt very anxious-what would Otsu do, now that he knew her secret?
At last the sound of weaving stopped, and Otsu came out of the roomwith two pieces of cloth in her hands.
“Yohyo,” she said, sadly. “You have broken your promise to me. Now that you know that I am a crane, I cannot stay here any longer. Take these pieces of cloth, sell one, and keep the other. Perhaps it will remind you of me.”
“Please Otsu, don’t leave me,” cried Yohyo. “How can I manage to live without you? I love you!”
But Otsu only smiled gently and shook her head.
“No, Yohyo,” she said.”I came here to reply you for your kindness to me, and I stayed for love of your gentle heart. But since I have been weaving for you, you have changed and become greedy and hard.”
“I must go, goodbye.”
“Don’t go, please, Otsu!” cried poor Yohyo. “Don’t leave me alone! I won’t tell your secret. Iwon’t ask you for any more cloth. Don’t go!”
Otsu just smiled sadly again and waving goodbye, she stepped out of the door. At once she changed into a crane and opening her beautiful wings, she flew up into the sky. As Yohyo watched in despair, she rose higher and higher into the sky, until she could be seen no more.
Then there was only the sound of Yohyo’ voice calling,”Otsu! Otsu!…”
英语美文欣赏 2
A Wolfs Tale
With all her big brothers and sisters off to school, our ranch became a lonely place for our three-year-old daughter, Becky. She longed for playmates. Cattle and horses were too big to cuddle and farm machinery dangerous for a child so small. We promised to buy her a puppy but in the meantime, "Pretend" puppies popped up nearly every day.
I had just finished washing the lunch dishes when the screen door slammed and Becky rushed in, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mama!" she cried, "Come see my new doggy! I gave him water two times already. Hes so thirsty!"
I sighed, another of Beckys imaginary dogs.
"Please come, Mama." She tugged at my jeans, her brown eyes pleading, "Hes crying - and he cant walk!"
"Cant walk?" Now that was a twist. All her previous make-believe dogs could do marvelous things. One balanced a ball on the end of its nose. Another dug a hole that went all the way through the earth and fell out on a star on the other side. Still another danced on a tightrope. Why suddenly a dog that couldnt walk?
"All right, honey," I said. By the time I tried to follow her, Becky had already disappeared into the mesquite.
"Where are you?" I called.
"Over here by the oak stump. Hurry, Mama!"
I parted the thorny branches and raised my hand against the glare of the Arizona sun. A numbing chill gripped me. There she was, sitting on her heels, toes dug firmly in the sand, and cradled in her lap was the unmistakable head of a wolf! Beyond its head rose massive black shoulders. The rest of the body lay completely hidden inside the hollow stump of a fallen oak.
"Becky," My mouth felt dry. "Dont move." I stepped closer. Pale-yellow eyes narrowed. Black lips tightened, exposing double sets of two-inch fangs. Suddenly the wolf trembled. Its teeth clacked, and a piteous whine rose from its throat.
"Its all right, boy," Becky crooned. "Dont be afraid. Thats my mama, and she loves you, too."
Then the unbelievable happened. As her tiny hands stroked the great shaggy head, I heard the gentle thump, thump, thumping of the wolfs tail from deep inside the stump. What was wrong with the animal? I wondered. Why couldnt he get up? I couldnt tell. Nor did I dare to step any closer.
I glanced at the empty water bowl. My memory flashed back to the five skunks that last week had torn the burlap from a leaking pipe in a frenzied effort to reach water during the final agonies of rabies. Of course! Rabies! Warning signs had been posted all over the county, and hadnt Becky said, "Hes so thirsty?" I had to get Becky away.
"Honey," My throat tightened. "Put his head down and come to Mama. Well go find help."
Reluctantly, Becky got up and kissed the wolf on the nose before she walked slowly into my outstretched arms. Sad yellow eyes followed her. Then the wolfs head sank to the ground. With Becky safe in my arms, I ran to the barns where Brian, one of our cowhands, was saddling up to check heifers in the North pasture. "Brian! Come quickly. Becky found a wolf in the oak stump near the wash! I think it has rabies!"
"Ill be there in a jiffy," he said as I hurried back to the house, eager to put Becky down for her nap. I didnt want her to see Brian come out of the bunkhouse. I knew hed have a gun.
"But I want to give my doggy his water," she cried. I kissed her and gave her some stuffed animals to play with.
"Honey, let Mom and Brian take care of him for now," I said. Moments later, I reached the oak stump.
Brian stood looking down at the beast. "Its a Mexican lobo, all right." He said, "And a big one!"
The wolf whined. Then we both caught the smell of gangrene. "Whew! Its not rabies," Brian said. "But hes sure hurt real bad. Dont you think its best I put him out of his misery?"
The word "yes" was on my lips, when Becky emerged from the bushes. "Is Brian going to make him well, Mama?" She hauled the animals head onto her lap once more, and buried her face in the coarse, dark fur. This time I wasnt the only one who heard the thumping of the lobos tail.
That afternoon my husband, Bill, and our veterinarian came to see the wolf. Observing the trust the animal had in our child, Doc said to me, "Suppose you let Becky and me tend to this fella together." Minutes later, as child and vet reassured the stricken beast, the hypodermic found its mark. The yellow eyes closed.
"Hes asleep now," said the vet. "Give me a hand here, Bill." They hauled the massive body out of the stump. The animal must have been over five feet long and well over a hundred pounds. Bullets had mutilated the wolfs hip and leg. Doc did what he had to in order to clean the wound and then gave the patient a dose of penicillin. Next day he returned and ed a metal rod to replace the missing bone.
"Well, it looks like youve got yourselves a Mexican lobo," Doc said. "He looks to be about three years old, and even as pups, they dont tame real easy. Im amazed at the way this big fella took to your little girl. But often theres something that goes on between children and animals that we grownups dont understand."
Becky named the wolf Ralph and carried food and water to the stump every day. Ralphs recovery was not easy. For three months he dragged his injured hindquarters by clawing the earth with his front paws. From the way he lowered his eyelids when we massaged the limbs, we knew he endured excruciating pain, but not once did he ever try to bite the hands of those who cared for him.
Four months to the day, Ralph finally stood unaided. His huge frame shook as long-unused muscles were activated. Bill and I patted and praised him. But it was Becky to whom he turned for a gentle word, a kiss or a smile. He responded to these gestures of love by swinging his busy tail like a pendulum. As his strength grew, Ralph followed Becky all over the ranch.
Together they roamed the desert pastures, the golden-haired child often stooping low, sharing with the great lame wolf whispered secrets of natures wonders. When evening came, he returned like a silent shadow to his hollow stump that had surely become his special place.
As time went on, although he lived primarily in the brush, the habits of this timid creature endeared him more and more to all of us. His reaction to people other than our family was yet another story. Strangers terrified him, yet his affection for and protectiveness of Becky brought him out of the desert and fields at the sight of every unknown pickup or car. Occasionally hed approach, lips taut, exposing a nervous smile full of chattering teeth.
More often hed simply pace and finally skulk off to his tree stump, perhaps to worry alone.
Beckys first day of school was sad for Ralph. After the bus left, he refused to return to the yard. Instead, he lay by the side of the road and waited.
When Becky returned, he limped and tottered in wild, joyous circles around her. This welcoming ritual persisted throughout her school years.
Although Ralph seemed happy on the ranch, he disappeared into the surrounding deserts and mountains for several weeks during the spring mating season, leaving us to worry about his safety. This was calving season, and fellow ranchers watched for coyotes, cougars, wild dogs and, of course, the lone wolf. But Ralph was lucky.
During Ralphs twelve years on our ranch, his habits remained unchanged. Always keeping his distance, he tolerated other pets and endured the activities of our busy family, but his love for Becky never wavered.
Then the spring came when our neighbor told us hed shot and killed a she-wolf and grazed her mate, who had been running with her. Sure enough, Ralph returned home with another bullet wound. Becky, nearly fifteen years old now, sat with Ralphs head resting on her lap. He, too, must have been about fifteen and was gray with age. As Bill removed the bullet, my memory raced back through the years. Once again I saw a chubby three-year-old girl stroking the head of a huge black wolf and heard a small voice murmuring, "Its all right, boy. Dont be afraid. Thats my mama, and she loves you, too."
Although the wound wasnt serious, this time Ralph didnt get well. Precious pounds fell away. The once luxurious fur turned dull and dry, and his trips to the yard in search of Beckys companionship ceased. All day long he rested quietly. But when night fell, old and stiff as he was, he disappeared into the desert and surrounding hills. By dawn his food was gone. The morning came when we found him dead. The yellow eyes were closed.
Stretched out in front of the oak stump, he appeared but a shadow of the proud beast he once had been. A lump in my throat choked me as I watched Becky stroke his shaggy neck, tears streaming down her face. "Ill miss him so," she cried.
Then as I covered him with a blanket a strange rustling sound from inside the stump startled us. Becky looked inside. Two tiny yellow eyes peered back and puppy fangs glinted in the semidarkness. Ralphs pup!
Had a dying instinct told him his motherless offspring would be safe here, as he had been, with those who loved him? Hot tears spilled on baby fur as Becky gathered the trembling bundle in her arms.
"Its all right, little ... Ralphie," she murmured. "Dont be afraid. Thats my mom, and she loves you, too."
英语美文欣赏 3
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a waywa
rd course over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy-ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life for a few hours for this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness-that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what-at last-I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine...A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
英语美文欣赏 4
Towards love and learning, college teachers and students hold controversial views.
The majority of college teachers, especially old teachers,argue that students should give up love and concentrate on learning. They say that campus love is time-and-energy-consuming and tears students away from their main task. If a student ever falls in love, he/she will undoubtedly neglecthis/ her studies and gradually lag behind his/her classmates. A few teachers, therefore, suggest that the university authorities restore the traditional regulation against love during students school years.
On the contrary, students hold that it is natural for young people to fall in love on the campus because they meet every day and their everyday meeting produces romantic passion towards each other. They insist that the eampus is not the Garden of Eden and love is not, the Forbidden Tree. They take for example some of their friends who, falling in love, are studying harder and have madegreater progress to please their boy/girl friends.
In my opinion, both views are lop-sided. If a stuadent does not give himself/herself away in love but takes it as a drive,love produces positive effect. But if he/she indulges himself/herself too deeply in love,then he/she will be a devote lover but a frustrated learner.
英语美文欣赏 5
"Im going to marry you one day." Beth said to her long time crush Jake. She wore her favorite blue teddy bear shirt. Her four-year-old blue eyes shined in the sun.
"No youre not, youre a girl." Jake said.
The California afternoon wind blew his light brown hair. Jumping off the monkey bars he laughed back to class.
Sitting alone and confused she didnt know what to do. Beth sat high on the monkey bars crying. How can her future husband just leave like that?
She was going to get him, but how? "I will not let him get away! I wont! I wont!"
15 years later:
"I love you, too, Jake." Hanging up the phone she caught her mom smiling. "What?"
"When is he coming in from France? Hes been there for awhile." She sat down on her black leather couch. The house was made up of different Indian stuff. On the walls were different dream catchers. Her mother was a full blood Cherokee Indian. She passed away when Beth was eight.
"He has a lot of schooling to do right now. Maybe this Saturday."
Fixing her short overalls she thought of Jake. Who would have thought they were going to date when she turned five?
"Is he still living in Colorado?" Her mother Kay wore a white tank top with tan pants. And long blonde hair with pretty blue eyes. She was the most beautiful woman on Earth. And Beth is looking like her by the minute.
"Yeah, I hate having a long distance relationship." She plopped on a leather chair.
"Its ok baby, you know he loves you more than anything in this world. Love will keep you together."
Beth could not help but smile. Her mother is and will always be her best friend.
Jake sat in his hotel the school rented for him. School of law. He loved going overseas for everything. But he missed being with Beth. That hurt him the most.
Spending the lonely nights in the hotel made him think of how much it would hurt to spend the rest of his life without her in it.
Getting up off his bed he went into the bathroom. Watching his reflection in the mirror, all he could think about was Beth. He would leave Thursday, and get there Friday night.
Turning off the light he jumped into the cold bed. On a coffee table near his bed rested a frame with them in it. It was taken at a beach about two years ago. It was the best time of their lives.
It was Thursday morning and Beth waited for Jakes morning phone call. He would call at eight - it was ten.
Beth got out of bed and got her favorite blue tank top. She took off her shirt and screamed at the top of her lungs.
"What? What?" Her mother came rushing into her room. Staring at her naked daughter she saw the lump of her breast. "Does it hurt?"
Beth could only say "No." Looking at the lump, she cried in pain.
"Lets get you to the doctor."
"Ok, let me get dressed."
Shutting the door behind her, the room became silent. Shaking she put on her shirt, and ran out into the living room.
"Mom, where are my blue shorts?"
"In the dresser, second drawer."
Finishing getting dressed she hopped into her car. Her red mustang drove like a baby.
They waited for the doctor to come in. Beth could not begin to think she had cancer. As her mind drifted off her cell phone rang.
"Hello?" Her heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Jake.
"Hey, how are you?" He asked out of breath.
"Could be better. Why didnt you call me this morning?"
"Sorry, school got ahold of me today."
"Why are you out of breath?" Looking stunned she stared at her mother.
"Im so sorry, hell call back." Her mother gave Beth a hug.
The doctor came in, and greeted his self. "Hello. Im Kevin Baker." He smiled while examining her breast.
英语美文欣赏 6
Much meaning can be conveyed, clearly, with our eyes, so it is often said that eyes can speak.
Do you have such kind of experience? In a bus you may look at stranger, but not too long. And if he is sensing that he is being stared at, he may feel uncomfortable.
The same in daily life. If you are looked at for more than necessary, you will look at yourself up and down, to see if there is anything wrong with you. If nothing goes wrong, you will feel angry toward other’s stare with you that way. Eyes do speak, right?
Looking too long at someone may seem to be rude and aggressive. But things are different when it comes to stare at the opposite sex. If a man glances at a woman for more than 10 seconds and refuses to avert his gaze, his intentions are obvious, that is, he wishes to attract her attention, to make her understand that he is admiring her.
However, the normal eye contact for two people engaged in conversation is that the speaker will only look at the listener from time to time, in order to make sure that the listener does pay attention to what the former is speaking, to tell him that he is attentive.
If a speaker looks at you continuously when speaking, as if he tries to dominate you, you will feel disconcerted. A poor liar usually exposes himself by looking too long at the victim, since he believes in the false idea that to look straight in the eye is a sign of honest communication. Quite the contrary.
In fact, continuous eye contact is confined to lovers only, who will enjoy looking at each other tenderly for a long time, to show affection that words cannot express.
Evidently, eye contact should be done according to the relationship between two people and the specific situation.
英语美文欣赏 7
One of my patients, a successful businessman, tells me that before his cancer he would become depressed unless things went a certain way. Happiness was “having the cookie.” If you had the cookie, things were good. If you didnt have the cookie, life wasnt worth a damn. Unfortunately, the cookie kept changing. Some of the time it was money, sometimes power, sometimes desire. At other times, it was the new car, the biggest contract, the most prestigious address.
A year and a half after his diagnosis of prostate cancer he sits shaking his head ruefully. “Its like I stopped learning how to live after I was a kid. When I give my son a cookie, he is happy. If I take the cookie away or it breaks, he is unhappy. But he is two and a half and I am forty-three. Its taken me this long to understand that the cookie will never make me happy for long.
The minute you have the cookie it starts to crumble or you start to worry about it crumbling or about someone trying to take it away from you. You know, you have to give up a lot of things to take care of the cookie, to keep it from crumbling and be sure that no one takes it away from you. You may not even get a chance to eat it because you are so busy, just trying not to lose it. Having the cookie is not what life is about.”
My patient laughs and says cancer has changed him. For the first time he is happy. No matter if his business is doing well or not, no matter if he wins or loses at golf. “Two years ago, cancer asked me, ‘Okay, whats important? What is really important?’ Well, life is important. Life.
Life any way you can have it, life with the cookie, life without the cookie. Happiness does not have anything to do with the cookie; it has to do with being alive. Before, who made the time?” He pauses thoughtfully. “Damn, I guess life is the cookie.”
英语美文欣赏 8
What is Love? The eternal question we all carry around deep within our heart. Love is the eternal search. Love is eternal when we find it. But do we really ever find it ? When we define it do we negate it? When we set limits on what we believe to be love do we begin to destroy it by hoping to understand or own it for ourselves? We offer it through all of our relationship we vary our giving, often by what we hope to receive in return. But is this really love?
I recently overheard someone say in a conversation that there is no such thing as “ unconditional love .” I would have to agree, although for different reasons. Love within itself is unconditional. Anything else is only an attempt to love, a learning to get us nearer to the one true knowing of love. It may be honorable, well-intentioned, passionate and desiring, courageous and pure. It may be felt as temporary, but if lost easily it may not have been love at all. Love cannot be thwarted and often fall short of what we hope love will be. This is where we learn we are human.
Love has been experienced as a life of living poetry. Love has been experienced as being the very notes of song, uplifting and generous to the wanting ear. Love has been experienced as the final act of giving one’s life for another in battle. Love has been experienced as an endless passionate over flow of emotion in the arms of waiting lover.
What do you do with the love granted to you each day? How many times do we deny its expression for others because we fear what our own expressions will bring? Are we not denying our creator every time we deny the expression of love?
Lost, empty, alone and searching. As individuals who have experienced separation or divorce, or even the loss of a loved one to death, the separation can be the most traumatic experience we live through. The heart-wrenching pain that seems to never really go away, the enormous waves that hit us daily, the times we hit the wall right after a strong and uplifting experience reminds us that we are learning. We are learning about strength, passion for our own life, about our own sincerity in our beliefs, about our loyalty to who we are, and certainly about our own genuineness. We search for that day when love will come again. We search everywhere, everyday, almost every hour.
It has been said for centuries that “ love is where the eyes meet with passion, for the eyes cannot hide what the heart feels.” So we have learned to look outward for this eternal love that will fulfill us, forgetting that it must first fill our own hearts. Perhaps that is why we fall into such pain and agony and sorrow when a love affair fails. It is at that moment that we realize we did not fail the other person we expressed love to , but we have somehow not fulfilled ourselves once again. We combat failure with a misunderstood unfulfilled promise. We lade it, not knowing if we will ever find it again. The emotion tides life and fall ,crash and settle, then lift again.
No one else, no matter how much we talk or cry, can pull us through the anxious hours of soul repair and growth. It is our own fire within that needs rekindling, guarding against the winds that would blow it out and leave us dark, cold and helpless. It is at this time that we find the lobe that binds us together with every other being that surrounds us on the planet. Eventually we find the sun still rises to meet in the morning and the stars continue to show us the way each night. The rivers still flow downstream into oceans that will never turn them away. The trees still reach upward every day praising the God that made them. We stand up straight and take a lesson from it all.
What if you woke up one morning and realized that you were the only person left on the face of the earth? Who would you love? Why do we wait so long to start the journey that begins in the same place that it ends?Love, in all its endlessness, unboundedness and failed definitions is this experience.
Love doesn’t ask why. It doesn’t come. It doesn’t go. It just is. It is not only in our hands, it is our hands. It isn’t only in our heart, it is what makes our heart beat every beat. It wraps itself around us so securely that all we need to do to survive against all odds is to recognize it as the very breath we just drew, and the last breath we just let go.
英语美文欣赏 9
Travels on Holidaysin China.
Nowadays, more and more people like to travel in their holidays. The other day I read a report about the ways people spend their holidays. It is reported that in recent yiars several new holiday habits have been developed. Among them, the most interesting one is the growth of the so-called holiday camps.
From the report we can see that in 1990,40 percent of people stayed at home for holidays. But now the proportion has reduced to 9 percent. More people go out for fun. The proportion of camping and traveling abroad was increasing steadily, from 10 percent in 1990 to 38 percent in 20xx, and 12 percent in 1990 to 26 percent in 20xx respectively.
People enjoy the fresh air, clean Water and green hills when they go camping in the suburbs. In 1990,38 percent people enjoyed going to the seaside while in 20xx only 27 percent prefer to go there. What great changes! Why did those changes appear I think there are several reasons. First, it s because people can afford traveling. Second, people prefer to pursue a high-quality and colorful life. Third, their attitudes to relaxation have changed.
Less people want to save much money by leading a simple life. In short, peoples living standard today has been rising greatly.
英语美文欣赏 10
Three centuries later, shortly before the birth of Christ, Egypt was still ruled by a living goddess, Cleopatra, a Greek descended from one of Alexanders generals. She looked back to the Golden Age of Alexanders world empire and was determined to do even better herself.
Alexander died at the age of 32. By the time Cleopatra was 23, she had gone ever further than Alexander making her entrance into Rome as Queen of Egypt and consort of Julius Caesar, the most powerful man in the world.
These were complex times. To keep your throne, you had to be adaptable, ruthless, intelligent and a great politician. Cleopatra had all these traits which is why history has provided us with lots of interpretations of Cleopatra. Renaissance poets saw her as a heroine dying for love. And painters alluded to her eroticism in their bare breasted portrayals of the dying queen. Hollywood reinforced the image of Cleopatra as a vamp starting with Theda Baras seductive portrayal in 1917.
But who was the real Cleopatra? What did she really look like?
Were in Berlin because this is the best portrait of Cleopatra in the world. There are very few ancient sculptures that are existing. So this is probably as close as were ever going to get to how she really looked. Shes rather plain looking, isnt she? Look at her hair. Its tied up in a simple bun. Its a classical Greek hairstyle. Its practical but not exactly designed to captivate a Roman general.
We know from ancient sources that her hair was a reddish color, wavy. But look at her nose. Its a little bit too long and hooked at the end. And her mouth, is not exactly sensual. Shes not wearing any jewelry. There are no earrings, no necklace. This is not the portrait of a femme fatale.
The ancient sources tell us she was intelligent, witty, charming, a linguist and along with this, she had a tremendous determination. It was this amazing combination of abilities that made Cleopatra the most famous woman in history. It wasnt her beauty.
Women in Egypt had always been powerful: Queen Hatshepsut, Nefertiti and now Cleopatra. But during the era of the Ptolemys, the role of Greek women had changed. They gained an identity apart from that of their husbands or families. Women participated in the arts and civic life and marriage became a union of two people, not just two houses. The portraits of the women of this period show strong individuals looking back at you with confidence. Theyre almost haunting. Women would not have this power again until the 20th century. Cleopatra was well educated, strong minded with ideas of her own and a female.
As a intellectual, Cleopatra would have been heartbroken: when during fighting between Egyptians and Caesars Roman troops, there occurred one of the greatest tragedies of the ancient world - the burning of the library of Alexandria. Its sad to think about what was lost in the fire at Alexandria. There are the missing manuscripts of Aristotle and Plato. They were probably there. There was an entire room with editions of Homer. Maybe even there were early manuscripts of the Old Testament, which could probably help settle Biblical questions today.
Cleopatra was eventually able to replace 200,000 of the manuscripts. Books were very important to her. Its ironic that today everybody knows her for her beauty, but it was her intelligence that was most important asset she had.
英语美文欣赏 11
Time is running out for my friend. While we are sitting at lunch she casually mentions she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. "Were taking a survey,"she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral2. "I know,"she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous3 holidays..."
But thats not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional4 wound so raw5 that she will be vulnerable6 forever.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without thinking: "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured7 nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated8 she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive9 level of a bear protecting her cub10.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed11 by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting, and she will think her babys sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline12 to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right.
I want my friend to know that every decision will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boys desire to go to the mens room rather than the womens at a restaurant will become a major dilemma. The issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester13 may be lurking14 in the lavatory15. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess16 herself constantly17 as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually18 she will shed the added weight19 of pregnancy20, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her own life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring21, but will also begin to hope for more years-not to accomplish her own dreams-but to watch her children accomplish theirs.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration22 of seeing your child learn to hit a ball. I want to capture23 for her the belly laugh24 of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.
My friends look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "Youll never regret it," I say finally. Then, squeezing25 my friends hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble26 their way into this holiest of callings.
英语美文欣赏 12
People born in the autumn live longer than those born in the spring and are less likely to fall chronically ill when they are older, according to an Austrian scientist. Using census data for more than one million people in Austria, Denmark and Australia, scientists at the Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research in the northern German town of Rostock found the month of birth was related to life expectancy over the age of 50. Seasonal differences in what mothers ate during pregnancy, and infections occurring at different times of the year could both have an impact on the health of a new-born baby and could influence its life expectancy in older age. "A mother giving birth in spring spends the last phase of her pregnancy in winter, when she will eat less vitamins than in summer," said Gabriele Doblhammer, one of a team of scientists who carried out the research. "When she stops breast-feeding and starts giving her baby normal food, it’s in the hot weeks of summer when babies are prone to infections of the digestive system." In Austria, adults born in autumn (October-December) lived about seven months longer than those born in spring (April-June), and in Denmark adults with birthdays in autumn outlived those born in spring by about four months.
In the southern hemisphere, the picture was similar. Adults born in the Australian autumn - the European spring - lived about four months longer than those born in the Australian spring. The study focused on people born at the beginning of the 20th century, using death certificates and census data. Although nutrition at all times of the year has improved since then, the seasonal pattern persists, Doblhammer said.
英语美文欣赏 13
Many people think that when they become rich and successful,happiness will naturally follow.Let me tell you that nothing is further from the truth.The world is full of very rich peoplewho are as miserable as if they were living in hell.We have read stories about movie stars who committed suicide or died from drugs.Quite clearly,money is not the only answer to all problems.
Wealth obtained through dishonest means does not bring happiness.Lottery winnings do not bring happiness.Gamble winnings do not bring happiness.To my mind,the secret to happiness lies in your successful work,There is no use sayingin your contribution towards others’ happinessand in your wealth you have earned through your own honest effort.If you obtain wealth through luck or dishonest means,you will know that it is ill earned money.If you get your money by taking advantage of others or by hurting others,you will not be happy with it.You will think you are a base person.Long-term happiness is based on honesty,productive work,contribution,and self-esteem.Happiness is not an end; it is a process.It is a continuous process of honest,productive workwhich makes a real contribution to othersand makes you feel you are a useful,worthy person.
As Dr.Wayne wrote,“There is no way to happiness.Happiness is the way.”There is no use saying“Some day when I achieve these goals,when I get a car,build a house and own my own business,then I will be really happy.”Life just does not work that way.If you wait for certain things to happenand depend on external circumstances of life to make you happy,you will always feel unfulfilled.There will always be something missing.
英语美文欣赏 14
Tall Corn
Jim Carlton sat by his kitchen window. He gazed across the hot afternoon at the corn that grew like a rising hedge around his single-story Iowa farmhouse. This year"s crop had jumped up tall and early. Now, only the corn that crowded around the edge of the home site was visible from the house.
His wife, Sue, stood at the sink washing fresh-picked carrots with a dribble of cold water. She eyed the sky uneasily as she worked, willing a cloud to appear. It had been twenty-seven days since the last rainfall, and that, to use Jim"s words, had been hardly enough to knock the fuzz off a dandelion.
Jim sighed, looking at the blank, blue sky. "It"s been too long. We"re going to start losing corn pretty soon. And there"s not a dang thing anyone can do about it except look for clouds and watch the leaves go soft..." He paused. "But then, I guess worrying doesn"t help any. Just makes you see things worse than they really are."
Sue Carlton, a strong-looking woman in her early forties, set the carrots in the sink and dried her hands. She walked over to her husband who sat in a wheelchair, one leg extended forward. A month ago, Jim had been repairing the roof of the barn when a board gave way. Along with shattered bones, the X rays had shown damage to his spine. Just how much damage, and whether Jim would ever walk again, the doctors couldn"t yet say.
Sue perched on the arm of a chair and stroked the side of Jim"s neck. "I reckon you"re right about worrying," she said. She looked down at him. "Sometimes I think the drought"s harder on the farmers than it is on the crops."
She looked out the window at her garden. They had talked about letting part of the vegetable garden go dry, or selling some of the animals, but so far there seemed to be enough well water for their own use. There just wasn"t enough for three hundred acres of corn.
She bent down and kissed his head. "We"ll be okay," she said quietly.
The days rolled on and on, same after same like crystal-clear beads on a string; early heat, dry winds and spotless skies of beautiful heartbreaking blue. Leaf edges began to brown and curl on the corn that hedged the Carltons" yard.
One day in mid-July, Jim called to his wife as she came in from the garden. He told her he had just been on the phone with their neighbor Pappy Dickson. Pappy"s crop was failing; he couldn"t see any ears at all and even the stalks were turning brown.
"Pappy says he"s going to start plowing his corn under if it doesn"t rain by the end of the week," Jim said in a worried voice.
"Plowing it in?" Sue stared at Jim.
"Sounds like it. I think the worry must be getting to him. What he says is impossible. We all planted the same seed at about the same time, and it looks to me like the corn"s holding up pretty good."
A few days later, Sue returned from a trip to town. Jim heard the screen door slap behind her but didn"t call a greeting. She came into the room, her eyes questioning. Jim was sitting there as cool as a handful of rose petals, a big smile on his face. She set down her packages.
"Don"t tell me," she said. "There"s a rainstorm coming!"
"Better than that! Doc Henderson called, says the new X rays look good, real good - a lot better than he expected." Jim paused and his smile grew wider. "He figures I could be walking by September."
"Walking...?" She looked straight into her husband"s eyes. "He figures you"ll be able to walk?" She reached down and held his face in both hands. "That"s the best news you could have given me!" she said, laughing. She jumped up and twirled a few times around the room, hugging herself with happiness.
"Better than a rainstorm?"
"Oh, honey! A hundred times better," she laughed and fell into a chair beside him.
"You know," he said, reaching out and touching her arm, "a month ago I couldn"t believe how our life was going. I figured maybe we were praying in the wrong direction or something. Then along comes the good news, and suddenly the drought hardly seems worth worrying about."
"Well, that"s good. Then I don"t need to keep sneaking out at night to water." Sue lifted her head and looked in Jim"s eyes.
"The garden?"
"The garden and all the corn you can see from this house."
"Corn?" Jim stared at her.
"What else could I do?" Sue smiled. "You said it yourself, worrying doesn"t help any. It just makes you see things worse than they really are."
英语美文欣赏 15
I used to watch her from my kitchen window, she seemed so small as she muscled her way through the crowd of boys on the playground. The school was across the street from our home and I would often watch the kids as they played during recess. A sea of children, and yet to me, she stood out from them all. I remember the first day I saw her playing basketball. I watched in wonder as she ran circles around the other kids. She managed to shoot jump shots just over their heads and into the net. The boys always tried to stop her but no one could. I began to notice her at other times, basketball in hand, playing alone. She would practice dribbling and shooting over and over again, sometimes until dark. One day I asked her why she practiced so much. She looked directly in my eyes and without a moment of hesitation she said, “I want to go to college. The only way I can go is if I get a scholarship. I like basketball. I decided that if I were good enough, I would get a scholarship. I am going to play college basketball. I want to be the best. My Daddy told me if the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.” Then she smiled and ran towards the court to recap the routine I had seen over and over again. Well, I had to give it to her-she was determined. I watched her through those junior high years and into high school. Every week, she led her varsity team to victory.
One day in her senior year, I saw her sitting in the grass, head cradled in her arms. I walked across the street and sat down in the cool grass beside her. Quietly I asked what was wrong. “Oh, nothing,” came a soft reply. “I am just too short.” The coach told her that at 5’5” she would probably never get to play for a top ranked team- much less offered a scholarship-so she should stop dreaming about college. She was heartbroken and I felt my own throat tighten as I sensed her disappointment. I asked her if she had talked to her dad about it yet. She lifted her head from her hands and told me that her father said those coaches were wrong. They just did not understand the power of a dream. He told her that if she really wanted to play for a good college, if she truly wanted a scholarship, that nothing could stop her except one thing - her own attitude. He told her again, “If the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.” The next year, as she and her team went to the Northern California Championship game, she was seen by a college recruiter. She was indeed offered a scholarship, a full ride, to a Division 1, NCAA women’s basketball team. She was going to get the college education that she had dreamed of and worked toward for all those years.
英语美文欣赏 16
My grandparents believed you were either honest or you werent. There was no in between. They had a simple motto hanging on their living-room wall: Life is like a field of newly fallen snow; where I choose to walk every step will show. They didnt have to talk about it--they demonstratedthe motto by the way they lived. They understood instinctively that integrity means having a personal standard of morality and ethics that does not sell out to expediency and that is not relative to the situation at hand. Integrity is an inner standard for judging your behavior.Unfortunately, integrity is in short supply today--and getting scarcer. But it is the real bottom line in every area of society.And it is something we must demand of ourselves.
A good test for this value is to look at what I call the Integrity Trial, which consists of three key principles: Stand firmly for your convictions in the face of personal pressure.
When you know youre right, you cant back down. Always give others credit that is rightfully theirs. Dont be afraid of those who might have a better idea or who might even be smarter than you are. Be honest and open about who you really are. People who lack genuine core values rely on external factors--their looks or status---in order to feel good about themselves. Inevitably they will do everything they can to preserve this facade,but they will do very little to develop their inner value and personal growth.
So be yourself. Dont engage in a personal cover-up of areas that are unpleasing in your life. When its tough, do it tough. In other words, face reality and be adult in your responses to lifes challenges.
Self-respect and a clear conscience are powerful components of integrity and are the basis for enriching your relationships with others.
Integrity means you do what you do because its right and not just fashionable or politically correct. A life of principle, of not succumbing to the seductive sirens of an easy morality,will always win the day. My grandparents taught me that.
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