關(guān)于著名英文美文摘抄
關(guān)于著名英文美文摘抄
經(jīng)典美文,或是立意高遠(yuǎn),或是思想健康;或是語言精美,或是構(gòu)思巧妙……學(xué)習(xí)啦小編分享關(guān)于著名英文美文，希望可以幫助大家!
關(guān)于著名英文美文：Tips for Happy Life
幸福的要訣
We've always been told it's true, but now experts have proved that money really can't buy you happiness.
盡管我們總聽到這樣的話：金錢并不能買到真正的幸福。不過這次專家們印證了這一點(diǎn)。
They quizzed jackpot winners and came up with 10 tips to keep you feeling on top of the world.
他們采訪了多位中了彩票頭等獎(jiǎng)的人，總結(jié)出了十條感覺幸福的秘訣。
And the results were surprising. No flash cars of expensive jewellery. Instead it was the simple pleasures, available to almost anybody, that bring the most enjoyment.
結(jié)果是令人驚訝的。幸福的感覺不是來自名牌汽車也不是來自珠寶首飾。讓我們產(chǎn)生幸福感的都是簡(jiǎn)單的愉悅，是每個(gè)人都可以感受到的簡(jiǎn)單愉悅給我們帶來最大的幸福感。
Top of the list is spending time with your family.
排在第一位的是和家人共處。
But jackpot winners' advice is: "Don't give up work. Having a regular routine and social interaction are essential. Keeping up friendships is important too, as is a stable marriage.
中了頭彩的幸運(yùn)兒們的建議是：“不要放棄工作。保持規(guī)律的作息和社會(huì)活動(dòng)是非常必要的。擁有穩(wěn)定的婚姻關(guān)系和一幫朋友也是很有助于提升幸福感。”
Buying your own home, preferably in the North where people are friendlier, is a good idea. But don't get into debt.
在北部買一套自己的房子是個(gè)不錯(cuò)的主意。因?yàn)槟莾旱娜藗兏佑焉?。但是不要背上債?wù)。
No matter how much money you have, living within your means is vital if you want to avoid stress."
不管你有多少錢，還是要按照自己的方式生活，自食其力，這對(duì)減少壓力是很重要的。
Dr Richard Tunney, of Nottingham University said: "The old saying 'money can't buy you happiness' may not be true, but traditional family values, a comfortable home and financial security are clearly key elements to a happy life."
諾丁漢大學(xué)的理查德·唐尼博士說：“老話講金錢難買開心顏，這可能不全對(duì)。但是傳統(tǒng)的家庭觀念，擁有一個(gè)穩(wěn)定舒適的家庭，經(jīng)濟(jì)上有保障，衣食無憂，這些對(duì)于獲得幸福感都是關(guān)鍵因素。”
關(guān)于著名英文美文：優(yōu)秀的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)
My l4-year-old son, John, and I spotted the coat simultaneously. It was hanging on a rack at a secondhand clothing store in Northampton Mass, crammed in with shoddy trench coats and an assortment of sad, woolen overcoats -- a rose among thorns.
While the other coats drooped, this one looked as if it were holding itself up. The thick, black wool of the double-breasted chesterfield was soft and unworn, as though it had been preserved in mothballs for years in dead old Uncle Henry's steamer trunk. The coat had a black velvet collar, beautiful tailoring, a Fifth Avenue label and an unbelievable price of . We looked at each other, saying nothing, but John's eyes gleamed. Dark, woolen topcoats were popular just then with teenage boys, but could cost several hundred dollars new. This coat was even better, bearing that touch of classic elegance from a bygone era.
John slid his arms down into the heavy satin lining of the sleeves and buttoned the coat. He turned from side to side, eyeing himself in the mirror with a serious, studied expression that soon changed into a smile. The fit was perfect.
John wore the coat to school the next day and came home wearing a big grin. "Ho. did the kids like your coat?" I asked. "They loved it," he said, carefully folding it over the back of a chair and smoothing it flat. I started calling him "Lord Chesterfield" and "The Great Gatsby."
Over the next few weeks, a change came over John. Agreement replaced contrariness, quiet, reasoned discussion replaced argument. He became more judicious, more mannerly, more thoughtful, eager to please. “Good dinner, Mom," he would say every evening.
He would generously loan his younger brother his tapes and lecture him on the niceties of behaviour; without a word of objection, he would carry in wood for the stove. One day when I suggested that he might start on homework before dinner, John -- a veteran procrastinator – said, “You’re right. I guess I will.”
When I mentioned this incident to one of his teachers and remarked that I didn't know what caused the changes, she said laughing. "It must be his coat!" Another teacher told him she was giving him a good mark not only because he had earned it but because she liked his coat. At the library, we ran into a friend who had not seen our children in a long time, “Could this be John?" he asked, looking up to John's new height, assessing the cut of his coat and extending his hand, one gentleman to another.
John and I both know we should never mistake a person's clothes for the real person within them. But there is something to be said for wearing a standard of excellence for the world to see, for practising standards of excellence in though, speech, and behaviour, and for matching what is on the inside to what is on the outside.
Sometimes, watching John leave for school, I've remembered with a keen sting what it felt like to be in the eighth grade -- a time when it was as easy to try on different approaches to life as it was to try on a coat. The whole world, the whole future is stretched out ahead, a vast panorama where all the doors are open. And if I were there right now, I would picture myself walking through those doors wearing my wonderful, magical coat.
關(guān)于著名英文美文：愛情像斷臂要敢于再次嘗試
"But what if I break my arm again?" my five year-old daughter asked, her lower lip trembling. I knelt holding onto her bike and looked her right in the eyes. I knew how much she wanted to learn to ride. How often she felt left out when her friends pedaled by our house. Yet ever since she'd fallen off her bike and broken her arm, she'd been afraid.
"Oh honey," I said. "I don't think you'll break another arm."
"But I could, couldn't I?"
"Yes," I admitted, and found myself struggling for the right thing to say. At times like this, I wished I had a partner to turn to. Someone who might help find the right words to make my little girl's problems disappear. But after a disastrous marriage and a painful divorce, I'd welcomed the hardships of being a single parent and had been adamant in telling anyone who tried to fix me up that I was terminally single.
"I don't think I want to ride," she said and got off her bike.
We walked away and sat down beside a tree.
"Don't you want to ride with your friends?" I asked.
"And I thought you were hoping to start riding your bike to school next year," I added.
"I was," she said, her voice almost a quiver.
"You know, hon," I said. "Most everything you do comes with risks. You could get a broken arm in a car wreck and then be afraid to ever ride in a car again. You could break your arm jumping rope. You could break your arm at gymnastics. Do you want to stop going to gymnastics?"
"No," she said. And with a determined spirit, she stood up and agreed to try again. I held on to the back of her bike until she found the courage to say, "Let's go!"
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park watching a very brave little girl overcome a fear, and congratulating myself for being a self-sufficient single parent.
As we walked home, pushing the bike as we made our way along the sidewalk, she asked me about a conversation she'd overheard me having with my mother the night before.
"Why were you and grandma arguing last night?"
My mother was one of the many people who constantly tried to fix me up. How many times had I told her "no" to meeting the Mr. Perfect she picked out for me. She just knew Steve was the man for me.
"It's nothing," I told her.
She shrugged. "Grandma said she just wanted you to find someone to love."
"What grandma wants is for some guy to break my heart again," I snapped, angry that my mother had said anything about this to my daughter.
"But Mom."
"You're too young to understand," I told her.
She was quiet for the next few minutes. Then she looked up and in a small voice gave me something to think about.
"So I guess love isn't like a broken arm."
Unable to answer, we walked the rest of the way in silence. When I got home, I called my mother and scolded her for talking about this to my daughter. Then I did what I'd seen my brave little girl do that very afternoon. I let go and agreed to meet Steve.
Steve was the man for me. We married less than a year later. It turned out mother and my daughter were right.
中文：
“可我要再把胳膊給摔斷了怎么辦?”我五歲的女兒?jiǎn)柕溃南麓筋澏吨?。我跪著抓穩(wěn)了她的自行車，直視著她的眼睛。我很明白她非常想學(xué)會(huì)騎車。多少次了，她的朋友們踩車經(jīng)過我們家時(shí)，她感到給拋下?？勺詮纳洗嗡龔淖孕熊嚿纤は聛?，把胳膊給摔斷之后，她對(duì)車便敬而遠(yuǎn)之。
“噢，親愛的。”我說，“我不認(rèn)為你會(huì)把另一只胳膊給摔斷的。”
“但有可能，不是嗎?”
“是的，”我承認(rèn)道，使勁想找出些道理來說。每逢此時(shí)，我便希望自己有人可依靠。一個(gè)可以說出正確道理、幫我的小女兒解決難題的人?？山?jīng)過一場(chǎng)可悲的婚姻和痛苦的離婚后，我傾向于當(dāng)個(gè)單身母親，并且我還態(tài)度堅(jiān)決地告訴每個(gè)要給我介紹對(duì)象的人說我要抱定終身不嫁。
“我不想學(xué)了。”她說著，下了自行車。
我們走到一旁，坐在一顆樹旁。
“難道你不想和朋友們一起騎車嗎?”我問。
“而且我還以為你希望明年踩著車回去上學(xué)呢。”我補(bǔ)充道。
“我是希望。”她說，聲音有點(diǎn)顫。
“知道嗎，寶貝。”我說，“很多要做的事情都是帶有風(fēng)險(xiǎn)的。汽車失事也會(huì)折斷胳膊，那么你就算再坐在車上也會(huì)害怕。跳繩也有可能折斷胳膊。做體操也有可能折斷胳膊。你連體操也想不練了嗎?”
“不想。”她說。然后她毅然站起，同意再試試。我扶著車尾，直到她有勇氣說：“放手!”
后來一個(gè)下午，我就在公園里看著這個(gè)有無比勇氣的小女孩克服了恐懼，我恭喜自己成了可以獨(dú)當(dāng)一面的單身家長(zhǎng)。
回家時(shí)，我們推著自行車順著人行道走，她問起昨天晚上我和我媽媽的一個(gè)對(duì)話，那是她無意中聽到的。
“你昨晚為什么和姥姥吵?”
我媽媽總是想安排我去相親的許多人中的一個(gè)。我多次拒絕去看她給我找的合適對(duì)象。她知道史蒂文和我會(huì)合得來。
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