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大学生英语美文欣赏
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大学生英语美文1
Some people are born with the belief that they are masters of their own lives. Others feel they are at the mercy of fate.New research shows that part of those feelings are in the genes
Psychologists have long known that people confident in their ability to control their destinies are more likely to adjust well to growing old than those who feel that they drift on the currents of fate.
Two researchers who questioned hundreds of Swedish twins report that such confidence, or lark of it, is partly genetic and partly drawn from experience.
They also found that the belief in blind luck-a conviction that coincidence plays a big role in life is something learned in life and has nothing to do with heredity.
The research was conducted at the Karolinska Institute-better known as the body that annually awards the Nobel Prize for medicine by Nancy Pedersen of the Institute and Margaret Gatz, a professor of psychology at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Their results were recently published in the United States in the Journal of Gerontology.
People who are confident of their ability to control their lives have an "internal locus of control,"and have a better chance of being well adjusted in their old age, said Pedersen.
An "external locus of control," believing that outside forces determine the course of life, has been linked to depression in latter years, she said.
"We are trying to understand what makes people different. What makes some people age gracefully and others have a more difficult time?" she said.
The study showed that while people have an inborn predilection toward independence and self-confidence, about 70 percent of this personality trait is affected by a person's environment and lifetime experiences.
Pedersen's studies, with various collaborators, probe the aging process by comparing sets of twins, both identical and fraternal, many of whom were separated at an early age.
The subjects were drawn from a roster first compiled about 30 years ago registering all twins born in Sweden since 1886. The complete list, which was extended in 1971, has 95,000 sets of twins.
大学生英语美文2
The first snow came. How beautiful it was, falling so silently all day long, all night long, on the mountains, on the meadows, on the roofs of the living, on the graves of the dead! All with save the river, that marked its course by a winding black line across the landscape; and the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now revealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacies of their branches. What silence, too, came with the snow, and what seclusion!
Every sound was muffled, every noise changed to something soft and musical. No more tramping hoofs, no more rattling wheels! Only the chiming of sleigh-bells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of children.
大学生英语美文3
I remember quite clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves were floating in 1)measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we used to be happy. Well, I thought we were. But the truth was that you had been 2)longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely 3)conscious, you said: “Our story is ending.”
The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago. I still don’t think I’m gonna make it through another love story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I’m watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.
大学生英语美文4
"I'm 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 you're not, you're 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 didn't 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 won't! I won't!"
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? He's 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.
"It's 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 Jake's 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.
"Let's 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 didn't 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.
"I'm so sorry, he'll call back." Her mother gave Beth a hug.
The doctor came in, and greeted his self. "Hello. I'm Kevin Baker." He smiled while examining her breast.
大学生英语美文5
I am dancing with my father at my parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. The band is playing an old-fashioned waltz as we move gracefully across the floor. His hand on my waist is as guiding as it always was, and he hums the tune to himself in a steady, youthful way. Around and around we go, laughing and nodding to the other dancers. We are the best dancers on the floor, they tell us. My father squeezes my hand and smiles at me.
As we continue to dip and sway, I remember a time when I was almost three, and my father came home from work, swooped me into his arms and began to dance me around the table. My mother laughed at us, told us dinner would get cold. But my father said, “She's just caught the rhythm of the dance! Dinner can wait!” And then he sang out “Roll out the barrel, let's have a barrel of fun,” and I sang back, “Let's get those blues on the run.” That night he taught me to polka, waltz and do the fox trot while dinner waited.
We danced through the years. When I was five, my father taught me to “shuffle off to Buffalo”. Later we won a dance contest at a Campfire Girls Round-Up. Then we learned to jitterbug at the USO place downtown. Once my father caught on to the steps, he danced with everyone in the hall — the women passing out doughnuts, even the GI's. We all laughed and clapped our hands for my father, the dancer.
One night when I was fifteen, lost in some painful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. “C'mon,” he said, “let's get those blues on the run.” I turned away from him and hugged my pain closer than before. My father put his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped out of the chair screaming, “Don't touch me! Don't touch me! I am sick and tired of dancing with you!” The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. I ran to my room sobbing hysterically.
We did not dance together after that night. I found other partners, and my father waited up for me after dances, sitting in his favorite chair, clad in his flannel pajamas. Sometimes he would be asleep when I came in, and I would wake him saying, “If you were so tired, you should have gone to bed.”
“No, no,” he'd say. “I was just waiting for you.”
Then we'd lock up the house and go to bed.
My father waited up for me all through my high school and college years while I danced my way out of his life.
One night, shortly after my first child was born, my mother called to tell me my father was ill. “A heart problem,” she said. “Now, don't come. Three hundred miles. It would upset your father. We will just have to wait. I'll let you know.”
My father's tests showed some stress, but a proper diet restored him to good health. Little things, then, for a while. A disc problem in the back, more heart trouble, a lens implant for cataracts. But the dancing did not stop. My mother wrote that they had joined a dance club. “You remember how your father loves to dance.”
Yes, I remember. My eyes filled up with remembering.
When my father retired, we mended our way back together again; hugs and kisses were common when we visited each other. But my father did not ask me to dance. He danced with the grandchildren; my daughters knew how to waltz before they could read.
“One, two, three and one, two, three,” my father would count out, “won't you come and waltz with me?” Sometimes my heart would ache to have him say those words to me. But I knew my father was waiting for an apology from me, and I could never find the right words.
As the time for my parents' fiftieth anniversary approached, my brothers and I met to plan the party. My older brother said, “Do you remember that night you wouldn't dance with him? Boy, was he mad! I couldn't believe he'd get so mad about a thing like that. I'll bet you haven't danced with him since.”
I did not tell him he was right.
My younger brother promised to get the band.
“Make sure they can play waltzes and polkas,” I told him.
“Dad can dance to anything,” he said. “Don't you want to get down, get funky?” I did not tell him that all I wanted to do was dance once more with my father.
When the band began to play after dinner, my parents took the floor. They glided around the room, inviting the others to join them. The guests rose to their feet, applauding the golden couple. My father danced with his granddaughters and then the band began to play the “Beer Barrel Polka.”
“Roll out the barrel,” I heard my father sing. Then I knew it was time. I knew the words I must say to my father before he would dance with me once more. I wound my way through a few couples and tapped my daughter on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I said, almost choking on my words, “but I believe this is my dance.”
My father stood rooted to the spot. Our eyes met and traveled back to that night when I was fifteen. In a trembling voice, I sang, “Let's get those blues on the run.”
My father bowed and said, “Oh, yes. I've been waiting for you.”
Then he started to laugh, and we moved into each other's arms, pausing for a moment so we could catch once more the rhythm of the dance.
大学生英语美文6
Whatever I am writing - is based on my personal experience with life. It's just like life has become a book or certification for me. Similar I found with Mr. M K Gandhi "The Father of Nation? India". He wrote about his experience with truth. I am inspired because writing is best way to express all your feelings that you can't do elsewhere.
Till date? I am unmarried. I have just started my career as an associate consultant. I believe consultant acts as a confusing mechanism to a client. Provide options not a decision. Well I am straightforward and honest. I have doubt to what extend and how long will I continue with all falsehood of business. Anyway this is expression time.
My elder sister is a center of my life. I never find absence of love, friendship or guardian till I am with my sister. Once I was far? The first letter I learned was "L" and word was "Love". Even you start loving your age girl in your college days. It is becoming fashion! Get a bike? Girl friend is free. Cost is only petrol. You be at Canteen, no class, all types of festivals and days in campus.
Sometime I was worried about my common man inside. I never did in my graduation. I had given lift only to one girl who was my enemy but by default she was a member of my industrial project study.
Well I have not so many words to express my love and friendship. You generally express what you have rather you missed. Right?
First of all I dislike thinking about love as any physical act. What we call romanticism. Romeo and Juliet? A Great Love Story. Well it was. But it is our style to misunderstand everything. (I may also do same thing!) But Thomas Moore says, "Romantic love is an illusion. Most of us discover this truth at the end of a love affair or else when the sweet emotions of love lead us into marriage and then turn down their flames." I 100 % agree with the statement.
At this moment? I get another tragedy. Few of my friends were really in deep love. I don't know its meaning please! Graduation was over. Those who were unable to create their future，including them too. There is a French proverb: "Love makes the time pass. Time makes love pass." It is ok to love someone else if you know how to love yourself first! Understand love first. Love is not a girl for a friend and vice versa. It is not a feeling. It is not an attraction. Definitely love is not a time pass at all.
There is an edge in our region: "Never wait for bus, train and a girl. If you missed one, another will come." But Gentleman “What are you doing at all?" You have to catch one.
It is really tough to define love for one. We all have different meanings of love. It depends on psychology of different minds. For any Road to Romeo? Seating on cross roads and looking passionately thinking all nightmare dreams is love. For any highly knowledgeable studying at college impressing classmates and taking city round just like a guide is a love. For any typical clerk marrying a caste girl and seating on seashore? Planning future having number of children is true love. So many examples!
On the same situation Leo Tolstoy says "If so many men, so many minds, certainly so many hearts, so many kinds of love."
Well let me express few words on my experience. My love is always based on expectation of true friendship. For most of people family love may be messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern. But it is not of my case. I find true meaning of love when I put my first step far from my sister.
You know - Sisters touch your heart in ways no other could. Sisters share... their hopes, their fears, their love, everything they have. Real friendship springs from their special bonds.
My weakness is I easily fall in love. And probably I love to write on love although I have been a poor unsuccessful story. But I am one of the luckiest fellows who have got love since birth in advance.
I always look a person like my sister in a girl whom I love. Sorry I am attaching love with girl. Love has no physical entity. Still let's take a girl, my age girl. 2-3 years above and down difference is ok. Out of my life's six choices, most of which are "Salwar Kameez" (an Indian dress material) just like my sister. They were bold enough to talk at the same time able to understand situation. In short similar to my sister.
What does it mean? We love people on the basis of some attributes. Even you check out with your experience. Most of us will agree with me finding same attributes or characteristics in a person whom we loved.
I don't know what is Love? I don't know what is Friendship? I don't know anything? I just want a person who can understand my feelings，my nature，my problems and me. If I want to meet her or if I want to talk to her, I don't need a reason. Why do I insist to get my love that can marry me？ because I will not need a permission of her husband if I want to talk to her.
We rarely understand but always feel it that love，friend and marriage have least degree of control on over physical body rather our mind. Your love is your strength. It is the basis of your existence.
"Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness that afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives." Says Bertrand Russell.
Your love may hurt you any day, as everything that comes has to go. Even my sister will get married one day. My friend whom I loved said she wished to be, as friends rather love. I am happy because she talks to me whenever I need. I have not done anything for her. There are many people who dislike me where I have few people who like me without any reason.
We always need to thank for giving such beautiful and kind relations in life. If you are in age of 12 to 28, you will feel it. Once you pass it, you will understand the reality that I don't know yet.
Well if you are meeting to your true love today, convey my best wishes!
大学生英语美文7
One windy spring day, I observed young people having fun using the wind to fly their kites. Multicolored creations of varying shapes and sizes filled the skies like beautiful birds darting and dancing. As the strong winds gusted against the kites, a string kept them in check.
Instead of blowing away with the wind, they arose against it to achieve great heights. They shook and pulled, but the restraining string and the cumbersome tail kept them in tow, facing upward and against the wind. As the kites struggled and trembled against the string, they seemed to say, “Let me go! Let me go! I want to be free!” They soared beautifully even as they fought the restriction of the string. Finally, one of the kites succeeded in breaking loose. “Free at last,” it seemed to say. “Free to fly with the wind.”
Yet freedom from restraint simply put it at the mercy of an unsympathetic breeze. It fluttered ungracefully to the ground and landed in a tangled mass of weeds and string against a dead bush. “Free at last” free to lie powerless in the dirt, to be blown helplessly along the ground, and to lodge lifeless against the first obstruction.
How much like kites we sometimes are. The Heaven gives us adversity and restrictions, rules to follow from which we can grow and gain strength. Restraint is a necessary counterpart to the winds of opposition. Some of us tug at the rules so hard that we never soar to reach the heights we might have obtained. We keep part of the commandment and never rise high enough to get our tails off the ground.
Let us each rise to the great heights, recognizing that some of the restraints that we may chafe under are actually the steadying force that helps us ascend and achieve.
大学生英语美文8
No young man believes he shall ever die. It was a saying of my brother’s, and a fine one. There is a feeling of Eternity in youth, which makes us amend for everything. To be young is to be as one of the Immortal Gods. One half of time indeed is flown-the other half remains in store for us with all its countless treasures; for there is no line drawn, and we see no limit to our hopes and wishes. We make the coming age our own-
The vast, the unbounded prospect lies before us.
Death. old age. are words without a meaning. that pass by us like the idea air which we regard not. Others may have undergone, or may still be liable to them-we "bear a charmed life”, which laughs to scorn all such sickly fancies. As in setting out on delightful journey, we strain our eager gaze forward-
Bidding the lovely scenes at distance hail!
And see no end to the landscape, new objects presenting themselves as we advance; so, in the commencement of life, we set no bounds to our inclinations. nor to the unrestricted opportunities of gratifying them. we have as yet found no obstacle, no disposition to flag; and it seems that we can go on so forever. We look round in a new world, full of life, and motion, and ceaseless progress; and feel in ourselves all the vigor and spirit to keep pace with it, and do not foresee from any present symptoms how we shall be left behind in the natural course of things, decline into old age, and drop into the grave. It is the simplicity, and as it were abstractedness of our feelings in youth, that (so to speak) identifies us with nature, and (our experience being slight and our passions strong) deludes us into a belief of being immortal like it. Our short-lives connection with existence we fondly flatter ourselves, is an indissoluble and lasting union-a honeymoon that knows neither coldness, jar, nor separation. As infants smile and sleep, we are rocked in the cradle of our wayward fancies, and lulled into security by the roar of the universe around us0we quaff the cup of life with eager haste without draining it, instead of which it only overflows the more-objects press around us, filling the mind with their magnitude and with the strong of desires that wait upon them, so that we have no room for the thoughts of death.
大学生英语美文9
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.
What I did not realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.
I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some people who had been partying, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under such circumstances, many drivers just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transpor- tation.
Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door.
This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. “It's nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.” “Oh, you're such a good boy,” she said.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, “Can you drive through downtown?” “It's not the shortest way,” I answered quickly. “Oh, I don't mind,” she said. “I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.” I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. “I don't have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I don't have very long.”
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to take?” I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I'm tired. Let's go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered.
“There are other passengers,” I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said... but they will always remember how you made them feel.
Take a moment to stop and appre- ciate the memories you have made, the memory making opportunies around you and make someone feel special today.
大学生英语美文10
Yes this may be surprising, I was only 13 years old that time. But, don't know how or why it happened to me so early. I fell deeply in love with a guy, who I used to think was annoying 2 months ago.
It was 1997, in Chittagong, Bang- ladesh, me and my family have just moved to a new apartment in a new area. So, after few weeks have passed, I started going back to school, since it was during Ramadan we moved. Well, I made some new friends in the neighborhood. This girl who was always hanging out with, her name was Ivy.
One day when I was going to school, I bumped into Ivy on the way out of my building, and she was standing next to this guy, he lived in the building right beside mine. He said “Hi” to me, and we just asked each other “how are you” and blah blah, then I had to leave. But I noticed that guy was looking at me. It was a different kind of look, look with love in his eyes. Few days later, I noticed whenever I go to school and come back from school, he is standing in his balcony, and smiling at me. If he is not around, and one of his friends see me, they start to yell out his name. Oh yeah, by the way, his name was Mamun.
So, I was very annoyed by those things. And I even told Ivy to tell Mamun to stop these foolishness. After my exams were over, I had a break. So I used to go to the roof and read books to spend my time. Mamun used to come to their roof also and both roofs where so close to each other that you can just jump from one to another.
Once I was reading a book, and I noticed Mamun come to their roof and he looked at me, and smiled. OH MY GOD! I don't know what happened to me. That sweet smile just took me away. I smiled back at him, for the first time. I could never forget that moment. We used to smile at each other whenever we saw each other, but never had a chat. I was sure that he liked me a lot, because, anytime he would see me on the roof from his balcony, he came up to the roof right away. I fell in love with him very deeply. I was surprised that I did. The feelings I had was so beautiful and made me so happy.
Mamun did come to my roof one day to talk to me but I wanted him to go away. I didn't want any one to see us talking. As you know, in Bangladesh rumors go around so fast. When we talked, I saw deep love in his eyes. I always smiled at him; I didn't talk to him much. Still, life was going on so wonderfully. Mamun never told me he loved me. I thought that was because, I was 5/6 years younger than him.
Very soon, I found out that me and my family are leaving Bang- ladesh and coming to Canada. I was devas- tated. I cried all night but there was nothing to do. When Mamun found out, he asked me on the roof, if it was true. When I said yes, he asked how long will I be in Canada. The answer was maybe forever, we were going to settle in Canada. He looked depressed, all he said was “Oh”, then I told him out flight date.
The next month, it was Ramadan again. Mamun came to say good bye to me on the roof, he was leaving to spend his Eid with his family. That day, I was so sad, I felt like I lost something very important in my life. We said goodbye to each other, he said he thinks I am such a sweet girl, he hopes I have a great life in Canada. Oh my god, I couldn't hold myself, I think my eyes became watery. I didn't want him to see that I was crying. I said “you too” and tried to smile and left the roof right away.
That was the last day I ever saw my first love. Now 4 years later, here I am in CANADA. I have guy in my life now, whom I am deeply love with after Mamun. I never lose him.
I am ... over Mamun now. Everytime I remember those days, looking at each other on the roof, talking, I feel really down. I wonder where he is now, if we will even meet again... I can never forget my first love.
大学生英语美文11
In 1978, I became a flight attendant for a major airline. Earning my wings was the culmination of a childhood dream that I had set for myself after my first plane ride at the age of five. Like so many others before me, I fell in love with the romance of airplanes, adventure and helping others.
I have flown hundreds of flights since graduation, but one stands out among the many.
We were flying from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C, when I answered a lavatory call light in the coach cabin. There I found a young mother struggling with her infant. Everything was a mess, to say the least, and the mother, who was near hysterics, told me she had no more diapers or other clothing onboard the aircraft.
Through her tears, she informed me that they had missed their flight the previous night in Los Angeles and because she had very little money, she and her son had spent the night on the airport floor. Since she hadn't expected to miss the flight, she was forced to use up most of her supplies and whatever money she had to feed them.
With the saddest eyes I have ever seen she continued. She told me she was on her way to New Hampshire to deliver her son to the family that was adopting him. She could no longer support the two of them.
As she stood in front of me, crying, holding her beautiful son, I could see the despair and hopelessness on her face. And, as a mother of three beautiful daughters, I could feel her pain.
I immediately rang the flight attendant call button and asked for assistance from the other flight attendants. They brought cloth towels from first class to assist in cleaning up both mom and the infant. I ran and got my suitcase; because this woman and I were about the same size, I gave her a sweater and a pair of pants I had brought for my layover. Then I asked several families if they could spare extra diapers, formula and clothes for the child. After the young mother and her son had changed their clothes and the baby had gone to sleep, I sat with her, holding her hand, trying to provide some support and comfort for the remainder of the flight.
Once we landed, I walked them to their next flight, which would take them to their final destination; separation. I briefed the gate agent and the new flight attendant crew on the situation and asked them to give her special attention.
With tears in my eyes I gave her a hug and told her, "You have shown me the true meaning of courage and a mother's love. I will never forget you.
As she thanked me for all I had done she said softly, "You're not the flight attendant, you're a sky angel." Touching my flight attendant wings, she continued, "And those are your angel wings."
With those words she turned and walked down the jetway, her child in her arms, and boarded the plane for New Hampshire.
Though I am no longer a flight attendant, my "angel wings" are still on prominent display in my office. And each time I see them, I am reminded of that young woman, her infant son and the gift that she gave me on that special day - that we truly are all spiritual beings traveling in human form.
大学生英语美文12
A man and his girlfriend were married. It was a large celebration.
All of their friends and family came to see the lovely ceremony and to partake ofthe festivities and celebrations. All had a wonderful time. The bride was gorgeous in her white wedding gown and the groom was very dashing in his black tuxedo. Everyone could tell that the love they had for each other was true.
A few months later, the wife came to the husband with a proposal, "I read in a magazine, a while ago, about how we can strengthen our marriage," she offered. "Each of us will write a list of the things that we find a bit annoying with the other person. Then, we can talk about how we can fix them together and make our lives happier together."
The husband agreed. So each of them went to a separate room in the house and thought of the things that annoyed them about the other. They thought about this question for the rest of the day and wrote down what they came up with. The next morning, at the breakfast table, they decided that they would go over their lists.
"I'll start," offered the wife. She took out her list. It had many items on it, enough to fill three pages. In fact, as she started reading the list of the little annoyances, she noticed that tears were starting to appear in her husband's eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing," the husband replied, "keep reading your list."
The wife continued to read until she had read all three pages to her husband. She neatly placed her list on the table and folded her hands over the top of it.
"Now, you read your list and then we'll talk about the things on both of our lists," she said happily.
Quietly the husband stated, "I don't have anything on my list. I think that you are perfect the way that you are. I don't want you to change anything for me. You are lovely and wonderful and I wouldn't want to try and change anything about you." The wife, touched by his honesty and the depth of his love for her and his acceptance of her, turned her head and wept.
In life, there are enough times when we are disappointed, depressed and annoyed. We don't really have to go looking for them. We have a wonderful world that is full of beauty, light and promise. Why waste time in this world looking for the bad, disappointing or annoying when we can look around us, and see the wondrous things before us?
大学生英语美文13
A few weeks will have passed by the time you read this (evengiven your newfound organizational skills, I doubt you will have made it to Paris before early September). I hope the coffee is good and strong and the croissants fresh and that the weather is still sunny enough to sit outside on one of those metallic chairs that never sit quite level on the pavement. Its not bad, the Marquis. The steak is also good, if you fancy coming back for lunch. And if you look down the road to your left you will hopefully see L'Artisan Parfumeur where, after you read this, you should go and try the scent called something like Papillons Extreme (can't quite remember). I always did think it would smell great on you.
Okay, instructions over. There are a few things I wanted to say and would have told you in person but you would have got all emotional and you wouldn't have let me say all this out loud. You always did talk too much.
So here it is: the cheque you got in the initial envelope from Michael Lawler was not the full amount, but just a small gift, to help you through your first weeks of unemployment, and to get you to Paris.
When you get back to England, take this letter to Michael in his London office and he will give you the relevant documents so you can access an account he has set up for me in your name. This account contains enough for you to buy somewhere nice to live and to pay for your degree course and your living expenses while your are in full-time education.
My parents will have been told all about it. I hope that this, and Michael Lawler's legal work, will ensure there is as little fuss as possible.
Clark, I can practically hear you starting to hyperventilate from here. Don't start panicking, or trying to give it away - its not enough for you to sit on your arse for the rest of your life. But it should buy you your freedom, both from that little claustrophobic little town we both call home, and from the kind of choices you have so far felt you had to make.
I am not giving the money to you because I want you to feel wistful, or indebted to me, or to feel that it's some kind of bloody memorial.
I'm giving you this because there is not much that makes me happy any more. but you do.
I am concious that knowing me has caused you pain, and grief, and I hope that one day when you are less angry with me and less upset you will see not just that I could only have done the thing that I did, but also this will help you live a really good life, a better life, than if you hadn't met me.
You're going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone. But I hope you feel a bit exhilarated too. Your face when you came back from diving that time told me everything: there is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do.
I'm not really telling you to jump off tall buildings or swim with whales or anything (although I would secretly love to think you were), but to live boldly. Push yourself. Don't settle. Wear those stripy legs with pride. And if you insist on settling down with some ridiculous bloke, make sure some of this is squirrelled away somewhere. Knowing you still have possibilities is a luxury. Knowing I might have given them to you has alleviated something for me.
So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in, with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours.
Don't think of me too often.I don't want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well.
大学生英语美文14
A son and his father were walking on the mountains. Suddenly, the son falls, hurts himself and screams, "AAAhhhh!!!"To hissurprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain,"AAAhhhh!!!" Curious, he yells," Who are you?" He receives the answer,"Who are you?" Angered at the response, he screams,"Coward!" He receives the answer,"Coward!"
He looks to his father and asks,"What's going on?" The father smiles and says,"My son, pay attention." And then he screams to the mountain, "I admire you!" The voice answers," I admire you!"Again the man screams,"You are a champion!" The voice answers,"You are a champion!" The boy is surprised, but does not understand.
Then the father explains," People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE. It gives you back everything you say or do. Our life is simply a reflection ofour actions. If you want more love in the world, create more love in yourheart. If you want more competence in you team, improve your competence. This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life. Life will give you back everything you have given to it."
大学生英语美文15
Looking back on those previous issues, those loves just like some meteors highlight our life. We always like to scale of our destiny making us separation. But actually the real truth which affects us is the opportunities of we meeting or feeling in love with each other. Between a male and a female , laden with a great deal of changes. Alittle change could change the final direction.
If we recognize each other earlier, maybe some of us can’t tie the finger with other else, or recognize later, till us had learned how to consider and take care of the other, perhaps as we held our hand tightly, we would never loose it again.
If you love someone but can’t get together with him or her, except to treasure a drop of tear from your inner heart and go away without a word, what else can we choose?
Among thousands and hundreds of people, we could encounter our lover. It’s really a destiny! And more, we just miss and miss between each other. After so much sigh and grief again and again, we finally understand that even a couple of lover, also need the time to come to temper .
This wild world has so many changes and separation that couldn’t been predicated, maybe we would miss each other in a lifetime just for turning around. Since till some years later, We just could know all our efforts can not beat down a God’s joke.
It’s helplessas you meet a guy who is not right for you in an unsuitable moment. It’s the sigh as you meet a guy who is right for you in a unsuitable moment. It’s sad as you meet a guy who is not right for you in a suitable moment. It’s happy as you meet a guy who is right for you in a suitable moment.
大学生英语美文16
One windyspring day, I observed young people having fun using the wind to fly theirkites. Multicolored creations of varying shapes and sizes filled the skies likebeautiful birds darting and dancing. As the strong winds gusted against thekites, a string kept them in check.
Instead of blowing away with the wind, theyarose against it to achieve great heights. They shook and pulled, but therestraining string and the cumbersome tail kept them in tow, facing upward andagainst the wind. As the kites struggled and trembled against the string, theyseemed to say, “Let me go! Let me go! I want to befree!” They soared beautifully even as they fought therestriction of the string. Finally, one of the kites succeeded in breakingloose. “Free at last,” itseemed to say. “Free to fly with the wind.”
Yet freedom from restraint simply put it atthe mercy of an unsympathetic breeze. It fluttered ungracefully to the groundand landed in a tangled mass of weeds and string against a dead bush. “Free at last” free to lie powerless in thedirt, to be blown helplessly along the ground, and to lodge lifeless againstthe first obstruction.
How much like kites we sometimes are. TheHeaven gives us adversity and restrictions, rules to follow from which we cangrow and gain strength. Restraint is a necessary counterpart to the winds ofopposition. Some of us tug at the rules so hard that we never soar to reach theheights we might have obtained. We keep part of the commandment and never risehigh enough to get our tails off the ground.
Let us each rise to the great heights,recognizing that some of the restraints that we may chafe under are actuallythe steadying force that helps us ascend and achieve.
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