为您找到与母亲节演讲稿英文版相关的共200个结果:
摘要:母亲节(Mother's Day),是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。母亲们在这一天通常会收到礼物,康乃馨被视为献给母亲的花,而中国的母亲花是萱草花,又叫忘忧草。
History of Mother′s Day
In the U.S. Mothers' Day is a holiday celebrated on second Sunday in May. It is a day when children honor their mothers with cards, gifts, and flowers. First observance in Philadelphia, Pa. in 1907, it is based on suggestions by Julia Ward Howe in 1872 and by Anna Jarvis in 1907.
Although it wasn't celebrated in the U.S. until 1907, there were days honoring mothers even in the days of ancient Greece. In those days, however, it was Rhea, the Mother of the gods that was given honor.
Later, in the 1600's, in England there was an annual observance called "Mothering Sunday." It was celebrated during June, on the fourth Sunday. On Mothering Sunday, the servants, who generally lived with their employers, were encouraged to return home and honor their mothers. It was traditional for them to bring a special cake along to celebrate the occasion.
In the U.S., in 1907 Ana Jarvis, from Philadelphia, began a campaign to establish a national Mother's Day. Jarvis persuaded her mother's church in Grafton, West Virginia to celebrate Mother's Day on the second anniversary of her mother's death, the 2nd Sunday of May. The next year Mother's Day was also celebrated in Philadelphia.
Jarvis and others began a letter-writing campaign to ministers, businessmen, and politicians in their quest to establish a national Mother's Day. They were successful. President Woodrow Wilson, in 1914, made the official announcement proclaiming Mother's Day a national observance that was to be held each year on the 2nd Sunday of May.
Many other countries of the world celebrate their own Mother's Day at different times throughout the year. Denmark, Finland, Italy, Turkey, Australia, and Belgium celebrate Mother's Day on the second Sunday in May, as in the U.S.
在美国,人们在五月的第二个星期天庆祝母亲节。在这一天,孩子们把卡片,礼物和鲜花献给他们的母亲。第一次庆祝母亲节是发生在1907 年的费城,是由朱莉娅·瓦德·豪和安妮塔·贾威斯分别在 1872 年和 1907 年提议设立的。
虽然美国直到 1907 年才庆祝母亲节,但是尊敬母亲的节日甚至可以追溯到古希腊。尽管那时人们是庆祝上帝的母亲罗伊的。
后来, 在17世纪初的英格兰,人们有一个惯例,就是在每年六月的第四个星期天庆祝“省亲节”。在省亲节那一天, 通常与雇主住在一起的仆人了, 被劝说回家和他们的母亲团聚。按照惯例,他们要带一块特殊的蛋糕回家庆祝。
在美国, 1907年有一个来自费城的叫阿纳·贾维斯的人,发起了一场建立全国的母亲节的运动。在西弗吉尼亚的格拉夫顿,贾维斯说服了她母亲的教堂,在她母亲去世2周年的纪念日那一天庆祝母亲节,即五月的第二个星期天。下一年费城也庆祝了母亲节。
贾维斯和其它人开始给部长,商人,以及政治家们写信,要求建立全国性的母亲节。他们取得了成功。1914年在任的伍德罗·威尔森总统,向全国发布官方通告,宣布在每年五月的第二个星期天庆祝母亲节,并使之成为一种传统。
世界上许多其它国家在全年的不同时间庆祝他们自己的母亲节。丹麦,芬兰,意大利,土耳其,澳大利亚,以及比利时同美国一样,在五月的第二个星期天庆祝母亲节。
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下面是读文网小编整理的关于母亲节英语演讲稿,欢迎大家阅读!
Today's weather very good,God deliberately arranged.This particular day,blue skies,the number of words "Happy Mother's Day" reverberated in the ears.
From early in the morning,I mope,because it can not think of what gift to give mother.Later,I came up with in my opinion the best gift for mother.First to see Mother,I sang loudly:"Mother,Mother's Day Happiness!The world is only a good mother,there is the mother of the child as-bao block." Singing,leaves itself a son and mother's arms,"droppedintotheembraceofmother,andultimately,happy ......"Mother died in Iraq last year,with deep feeling with me,Staring at me,eyes full of love and caress.Looked thoughtful,I grew up my mother smile ......
Mother,in fact,you know,daughter wanted to tell you there is worth a thousand words,but there are also all into this beautiful melody,which Beat notes the go.Here not only has his daughter's aspirations,more daughters are infinite gratitude to you,sincere love.
People will have a total support of our total love for us there is a touching,heartbreaking.Ah!Mother,you like an umbrella,an umbrella unusual.Summer,for me keep off the sun,winter,let me escape the harsh wind and snow.
If you love the sun,let you love your mother,because there is no ray of
sunshine than the warmth of maternal love; If you love wind,let you love your mother,because there is no more than a gentle breeze gentle motherly love .........If you love,please you love your mother,because all the world than maternal love everything tenacity,great,honest ......
今天的天气真好,是上帝刻意安排.这个特殊的日子里,晴空万里,多少句”母亲节快乐”回荡在耳边.
从早晨开始,我就闷闷不乐,因为实在想不到要给妈妈什么礼物.后来,我想出了我认为最好的礼物送给妈妈.一见到妈妈,我就大声唱道:”妈妈,母亲节快乐!世上只有妈妈好,有妈的孩子像块宝.”唱着,一子扑到妈妈的怀里,”投进妈妈的怀抱,幸福少不了……"妈妈泪如泉涌,深情地抱着我,凝望着我,眼里充满慈爱和爱抚.看着懂事的我,长大的我,妈妈会心一笑……
妈妈,其实您知道的,女儿有千言万语想要对您说,然而,也全部溶入到这美妙的旋律,跳动 的音符当中去了.这里不仅有女儿的心声,更多的是女儿对您无限的感激,真挚的爱.
总有一个人将我们支撑,总有一种爱让我们感动,心痛.啊!母亲,您就像一顶伞,一顶不平凡的伞.夏天,为我遮挡猛烈的阳光,冬天,让我躲避严厉的风雪.
如果你爱阳光,就请你爱你的母亲,因为世上没有一缕阳光比母爱温暖;如果你爱和风,就请你爱你的母亲,因为没有一阵微风比母爱温柔……如果你爱…,就请你爱你的母亲,因为世上一切的一切都比不上母爱坚韧,伟大,淳朴……
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想找一些简单又有个性的英文句子来做qq签名吗?下面读文网小编为大家带简单个性英文签名,希望大家喜欢!
Life is a on return journey.
人生是一段没有退路的旅程。
Home is where the heart is.
心在的地方就是家。
Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.
生活很艰难,但是宝贝,你也很坚强。
When it has is lost, brave to give up.
当拥有已经是失去,就勇敢的放弃。
Don't let the fear for losing keep you from trying.
别因为害怕失败而停止尝试。
Real dream is the other shore of reality.
真正的梦就是现实的彼岸。
Sometimes you have to give up on someone in order to respect yourself.
有时候我们必须放弃一些人,来成全自己的自尊。
There is no elevator to success. You have to take the stairs.
成功没有电梯,只有一步一个脚印。
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《丑小鸭》是安徒生的经典童话故事之一,写了一只天鹅蛋在鸭群中破壳后,因相貌怪异,让同类鄙弃,历经千辛万苦、重重磨难之后长成了白天鹅。下面读文网小编为大家带来丑小鸭童话故事英文版及翻译,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
It was so beautiful out on the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked. There the stork minced about on his red legs, clacking away in Egyptian, which was the language his mother had taught him. Round about the field and meadow lands rose vast forests, in which deep lakes lay hidden. Yes, it was indeed lovely out there in the country.
In the midst of the sunshine there stood an old manor house that had a deep moat around it. From the walls of the manor right down to the water's edge great burdock leaves grew, and there were some so tall that little children could stand upright beneath the biggest of them. In this wilderness of leaves, which was as dense as the forests itself, a duck sat on her nest, hatching her ducklings. She was becoming somewhat weary, because sitting is such a dull business and scarcely anyone came to see her. The other ducks would much rather swim in the moat than waddle out and squat under the burdock leaf to gossip with her.
But at last the eggshells began to crack, one after another. "Peep, peep!" said the little things, as they came to life and poked out their heads.
"Quack, quack!" said the duck, and quick as quick can be they all waddled out to have a look at the green world under the leaves. Their mother let them look as much as they pleased, because green is good for the eyes.
"How wide the world is," said all the young ducks, for they certainly had much more room now than they had when they were in their eggshells.
"Do you think this is the whole world?" their mother asked. "Why it extends on and on, clear across to the other side of the garden and right on into the parson's field, though that is further than I have ever been. I do hope you are all hatched," she said as she got up. "No, not quite all. The biggest egg still lies here. How much longer is this going to take? I am really rather tired of it all," she said, but she settled back on her nest.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who came to pay her a call.
"It takes a long time with that one egg," said the duck on the nest. "It won't crack, but look at the others. They are the cutest little ducklings I've ever seen. They look exactly like their father, the wretch! He hasn't come to see me at all."
"Let's have a look at the egg that won't crack," the old duck said. "It's a turkey egg, and you can take my word for it. I was fooled like that once myself. What trouble and care I had with those turkey children, for I may as well tell you, they are afraid of the water. I simply could not get them into it. I quacked and snapped at them, but it wasn't a bit of use. Let me see the egg. Certainly, it's a turkey egg. Let it lie, and go teach your other children to swim."
"Oh, I'll sit a little longer. I've been at it so long already that I may as well sit here half the summer."
"Suit yourself," said the old duck, and away she waddled.
At last the big egg did crack. "Peep," said the young one, and out he tumbled, but he was so big and ugly.
The duck took a look at him. "That's a frightfully big duckling," she said. "He doesn't look the least like the others. Can he really be a turkey baby? Well, well! I'll soon find out. Into the water he shall go, even if I have to shove him in myself."
Next day the weather was perfectly splendid, and the sun shone down on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck led her whole family down to the moat. Splash! she took to the water. "Quack, quack," said she, and one duckling after another plunged in. The water went over their heads, but they came up in a flash, and floated to perfection. Their legs worked automatically, and they were all there in the water. Even the big, ugly gray one was swimming along.
"Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard. But keep close to me so that you won't get stepped on, and watch out for the cat!"
Thus they sallied into the duck yard, where all was in an uproar because two families were fighting over the head of an eel. But the cat got it, after all.
"You see, that's the way of the world." The mother duck licked her bill because she wanted the eel's head for herself. "Stir your legs. Bustle about, and mind that you bend your necks to that old duck over there. She's the noblest of us all, and has Spanish blood in her. That's why she's so fat. See that red rag around her leg? That's a wonderful thing, and the highest distinction a duck can get. It shows that they don't want to lose her, and that she's to have special attention from man and beast. Shake yourselves! Don't turn your toes in. A well-bred duckling turns his toes way out, just as his father and mother do-this way. So then! Now duck your necks and say quack!"
They did as she told them, but the other ducks around them looked on and said right out loud, "See here! Must we have this brood too, just as if there weren't enough of us already? And-fie! what an ugly-looking fellow that duckling is! We won't stand for him." One duck charged up and bit his neck.
"Let him alone," his mother said. "He isn't doing any harm."
"Possibly not," said the duck who bit him, "but he's too big and strange, and therefore he needs a good whacking."
"What nice-looking children you have, Mother," said the old duck with the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty except that one. He didn't come out so well. It's a pity you can't hatch him again."
"That can't be managed, your ladyship," said the mother. "He isn't so handsome, but he's as good as can be, and he swims just as well as the rest, or, I should say, even a little better than they do. I hope his looks will improve with age, and after a while he won't seem so big. He took too long in the egg, and that's why his figure isn't all that it should be." She pinched his neck and preened his feathers. "Moreover, he's a drake, so it won't matter so much. I think he will be quite strong, and I'm sure he will amount to something."
"The other ducklings are pretty enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourselves right at home, and if you find an eel's head you may bring it to me."
So they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling who had been the last one out of his egg, and who looked so ugly, was pecked and pushed about and made fun of by the ducks, and the chickens as well. "He's too big," said they all. The turkey gobbler, who thought himself an emperor because he was born wearing spurs, puffed up like a ship under full sail and bore down upon him, gobbling and gobbling until he was red in the face. The poor duckling did not know where he dared stand or where he dared walk. He was so sad because he was so desperately ugly, and because he was the laughing stock of the whole barnyard.
So it went on the first day, and after that things went from bad to worse. The poor duckling was chased and buffeted about by everyone. Even his own brothers and sisters abused him. "Oh," they would always say, "how we wish the cat would catch you, you ugly thing." And his mother said, "How I do wish you were miles away." The ducks nipped him, and the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed them kicked him with her foot.
So he ran away; and he flew over the fence. The little birds in the bushes darted up in a fright. "That's because I'm so ugly," he thought, and closed his eyes, but he ran on just the same until he reached the great marsh where the wild ducks lived. There he lay all night long, weary and disheartened.
When morning came, the wild ducks flew up to have a look at their new companion. "What sort of creature are you?" they asked, as the duckling turned in all directions, bowing his best to them all. "You are terribly ugly," they told him, "but that's nothing to us so long as you don't marry into our family."
Poor duckling! Marriage certainly had never entered his mind. All he wanted was for them to let him lie among the reeds and drink a little water from the marsh.
There he stayed for two whole days. Then he met two wild geese, or rather wild ganders-for they were males. They had not been out of the shell very long, and that's what made them so sure of themselves.
"Say there, comrade," they said, "you're so ugly that we have taken a fancy to you. Come with us and be a bird of passage. In another marsh near-by, there are some fetching wild geese, all nice young ladies who know how to quack. You are so ugly that you'll completely turn their heads."
Bing! Bang! Shots rang in the air, and these two ganders fell dead among the reeds. The water was red with their blood. Bing! Bang! the shots rang, and as whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the reeds another volley crashed. A great hunt was in progress. The hunters lay under cover all around the marsh, and some even perched on branches of trees that overhung the reeds. Blue smoke rose like clouds from the shade of the trees, and drifted far out over the water.
The bird dogs came splash, splash! through the swamp, bending down the reeds and the rushes on every side. This gave the poor duckling such a fright that he twisted his head about to hide it under his wing. But at that very moment a fearfully big dog appeared right beside him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his wicked eyes glared horribly. He opened his wide jaws, flashed his sharp teeth, and - splash, splash - on he went without touching the duckling.
"Thank heavens," he sighed, "I'm so ugly that the dog won't even bother to bite me."
He lay perfectly still, while the bullets splattered through the reeds as shot after shot was fired. It was late in the day before things became quiet again, and even then the poor duckling didn't dare move. He waited several hours before he ventured to look about him, and then he scurried away from that marsh as fast as he could go. He ran across field and meadows. The wind was so strong that he had to struggle to keep his feet.
Late in the evening he came to a miserable little hovel, so ramshackle that it did not know which way to tumble, and that was the only reason it still stood. The wind struck the duckling so hard that the poor little fellow had to sit down on his tail to withstand it. The storm blew stronger and stronger, but the duckling noticed that one hinge had come loose and the door hung so crooked that he could squeeze through the crack into the room, and that's just what he did.
Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The cat, whom she called "Sonny," could arch his back, purr, and even make sparks, though for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had short little legs, so she was called "Chickey Shortleg." She laid good eggs, and the old woman loved her as if she had been her own child.
In the morning they were quick to notice the strange duckling. The cat began to purr, and the hen began to cluck.
"What on earth!" The old woman looked around, but she was short-sighted, and she mistook the duckling for a fat duck that had lost its way. "That was a good catch," she said. "Now I shall have duck eggs-unless it's a drake. We must try it out." So the duckling was tried out for three weeks, but not one egg did he lay.
In this house the cat was master and the hen was mistress. They always said, "We and the world," for they thought themselves half of the world, and much the better half at that. The duckling thought that there might be more than one way of thinking, but the hen would not hear of it.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked
"No."
"Then be so good as to hold your tongue."
The cat asked, "Can you arch your back, purr, or make sparks?"
"No."
"Then keep your opinion to yourself when sensible people are talking."
The duckling sat in a corner, feeling most despondent. Then he remembered the fresh air and the sunlight. Such a desire to go swimming on the water possessed him that he could not help telling the hen about it.
"What on earth has come over you?" the hen cried. "You haven't a thing to do, and that's why you get such silly notions. Lay us an egg, or learn to purr, and you'll get over it."
"But it's so refreshing to float on the water," said the duckling, "so refreshing to feel it rise over your head as you dive to the bottom."
"Yes, it must be a great pleasure!" said the hen. "I think you must have gone crazy. Ask the cat, who's the wisest fellow I know, whether he likes to swim or dive down in the water. Of myself I say nothing. But ask the old woman, our mistress. There's no one on earth wiser than she is. Do you imagine she wants to go swimming and feel the water rise over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"Well, if we don't, who would? Surely you don't think you are cleverer than the cat and the old woman-to say nothing of myself. Don't be so conceited, child. Just thank your Maker for all the kindness we have shown you. Didn't you get into this snug room, and fall in with people who can tell you what's what? But you are such a numbskull that it's no pleasure to have you around. Believe me, I tell you this for your own good. I say unpleasant truths, but that's the only way you can know who are your friends. Be sure now that you lay some eggs. See to it that you learn to purr or to make sparks."
"I think I'd better go out into the wide world," said the duckling.
"Suit yourself," said the hen.
So off went the duckling. He swam on the water, and dived down in it, but still he was slighted by every living creature because of his ugliness.
Autumn came on. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown. The wind took them and whirled them about. The heavens looked cold as the low clouds hung heavy with snow and hail. Perched on the fence, the raven screamed, "Caw, caw!" and trembled with cold. It made one shiver to think of it. Pity the poor little duckling!
One evening, just as the sun was setting in splendor, a great flock of large, handsome birds appeared out of the reeds. The duckling had never seen birds so beautiful. They were dazzling white, with long graceful necks. They were swans. They uttered a very strange cry as they unfurled their magnificent wings to fly from this cold land, away to warmer countries and to open waters. They went up so high, so very high, that the ugly little duckling felt a strange uneasiness come over him as he watched them. He went around and round in the water, like a wheel. He craned his neck to follow their course, and gave a cry so shrill and strange that he frightened himself. Oh! He could not forget them-those splendid, happy birds. When he could no longer see them he dived to the very bottom. and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what birds they were or whither they were bound, yet he loved them more than anything he had ever loved before. It was not that he envied them, for how could he ever dare dream of wanting their marvelous beauty for himself? He would have been grateful if only the ducks would have tolerated him-the poor ugly creature.
The winter grew cold - so bitterly cold that the duckling had to swim to and fro in the water to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he swam kept getting smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the duckling had to paddle continuously to keep the crackling ice from closing in upon him. At last, too tired to move, he was frozen fast in the ice.
Early that morning a farmer came by, and when he saw how things were he went out on the pond, broke away the ice with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. There the duckling revived, but when the children wished to play with him he thought they meant to hurt him. Terrified, he fluttered into the milk pail, splashing the whole room with milk. The woman shrieked and threw up her hands as he flew into the butter tub, and then in and out of the meal barrel. Imagine what he looked like now! The woman screamed and lashed out at him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over each other as they tried to catch him, and they laughed and they shouted. Luckily the door was open, and the duckling escaped through it into the bushes, where he lay down, in the newly fallen snow, as if in a daze.
But it would be too sad to tell of all the hardships and wretchedness he had to endure during this cruel winter. When the warm sun shone once more, the duckling was still alive among the reeds of the marsh. The larks began to sing again. It was beautiful springtime.
Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his wings. They swept through the air much more strongly than before, and their powerful strokes carried him far. Before he quite knew what was happening, he found himself in a great garden where apple trees bloomed. The lilacs filled the air with sweet scent and hung in clusters from long, green branches that bent over a winding stream. Oh, but it was lovely here in the freshness of spring!
From the thicket before him came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and swam lightly in the stream. The duckling recognized these noble creatures, and a strange feeling of sadness came upon him.
"I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."
So he flew into the water and swam toward the splendid swans. They saw him, and swept down upon him with their rustling feathers raised. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, gray bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked him with their bills.
Several little children came into the garden to throw grain and bits of bread upon the water. The smallest child cried, "Here's a new one," and the others rejoiced, "yes, a new one has come." They clapped their hands, danced around, and ran to bring their father and mother.
And they threw bread and cake upon the water, while they all agreed, "The new one is the most handsome of all. He's so young and so good-looking." The old swans bowed in his honor.
Then he felt very bashful, and tucked his head under his wing. He did not know what this was all about. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. The lilacs dipped their clusters into the stream before him, and the sun shone so warm and so heartening. He rustled his feathers and held his slender neck high, as he cried out with full heart: "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."#p#副标题#e#
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小红帽是德国童话作家格林的童话《小红帽》中的人物,故事版本多达一百多个,是如今家户喻晓的经典童话故事,成了不少小朋友最喜欢的睡前故事之一。下面读文网小编为大家带来小红帽童话故事双语版,欢迎大家阅读。
Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Cap.
One day her mother said to her, "Come Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your manners and give her my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your grandmother. And when you enter her parlor, don't forget to say 'Good morning,' and don't peer into all the corners first."
"I'll do everything just right," said Little Red Cap, shaking her mother's hand.
The grandmother lived out in the woods, a half hour from the village. When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him.
"Good day to you, Little Red Cap."
"Thank you, wolf."
"Where are you going so early, Little Red Cap?"
"To grandmother's."
"And what are you carrying under your apron?"
"Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked yesterday, and they should be good for her and give her strength."
"Little Red Cap, just where does your grandmother live?"
"Her house is good quarter hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees. There's a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place," said Little Red Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, "Now that sweet young thing is a tasty bite for me. She will taste even better than the old woman. You must be sly, and you can catch them both."
He walked along a little while with Little Red Cap, then he said, "Little Red Cap, just look at the beautiful flowers that are all around us. Why don't you go and take a look? And I don't believe you can hear how beautifully the birds are singing. You are walking along as though you were on your way to school. It is very beautiful in the woods."
Little Red Cap opened her eyes and when she saw the sunbeams dancing to and fro through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers, she thought, "If a take a fresh bouquet to grandmother, she will be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I'll be home on time." And she ran off the path into the woods looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods. But the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"Little Red Cap. I'm bringing you some cake and wine. Open the door."
"Just press the latch," called out the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up."
The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened. He stepped inside, went straight to the grandmother's bed, and ate her up. Then he put on her clothes, put her cap on his head, got into her bed, and pulled the curtains shut.
Little Red Cap had run after the flowers. After she had gathered so many that she could not carry any more, she remembered her grandmother, and then continued on her way to her house. She found, to her surprise, that the door was open. She walked into the parlor, and everything looked so strange that she thought, "Oh, my God, why am I so afraid? I usually like it at grandmother's."
She called out, "Good morning!" but received no answer.
Then she went to the bed and pulled back the curtains. Grandmother was lying there with her cap pulled down over her face and looking very strange.
"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have!"
"All the better to grab you with!"
"Oh, grandmother, what a horribly big mouth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!"
The wolf had scarcely finished speaking when he jumped from the bed with a single leap and ate up poor Little Red Cap. As soon as the wolf had satisfied his desires, he climbed back into bed, fell asleep, and began to snore very loudly.
A huntsman was just passing by. He thought, "The old woman is snoring so loudly. You had better see if something is wrong with her."
He stepped into the parlor, and when he approached the bed, he saw the wolf lying there. "So here I find you, you old sinner," he said. "I have been hunting for you a long time."
He was about to aim his rifle when it occurred to him that the wolf might have eaten the grandmother, and that she still might be rescued. So instead of shooting, he took a pair of scissors and began to cut open the wolf's belly. After a few cuts he saw the red cap shining through., and after a few more cuts the girl jumped out, crying, "Oh, I was so frightened! It was so dark inside the wolf's body!"
And then the grandmother came out as well, alive but hardly able to breathe. Then Little Red Cap fetched some large stones. She filled the wolf's body with them, and when he woke up and tried to run away, the stones were so heavy that he immediately fell down dead.
The three of them were happy. The huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with the pelt. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine that Little Red Cap had brought. And Little Red Cap thought, "As long as I live, I will never leave the path and run off into the woods by myself if mother tells me not to."
They also tell how Little Red Cap was taking some baked things to her grandmother another time, when another wolf spoke to her and wanted her to leave the path. But Little Red Cap took care and went straight to grandmother's. She told her that she had seen the wolf, and that he had wished her a good day, but had stared at her in a wicked manner. "If we hadn't been on a public road, he would have eaten me up," she said.
"Come," said the grandmother. "Let's lock the door, so he can't get in."
Soon afterward the wolf knocked on the door and called out, "Open up, grandmother. It's Little Red Cap, and I'm bringing you some baked things."
They remained silent, and did not open the door. Gray-Head crept around the house several times, and finally jumped onto the roof. He wanted to wait until Little Red Cap went home that evening, then follow her and eat her up in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what he was up to. There was a large stone trough in front of the house.
"Fetch a bucket, Little Red Cap," she said to the child. "Yesterday I cooked some sausage. Carry the water that I boiled them with to the trough." Little Red Cap carried water until the large, large trough was clear full. The smell of sausage arose into the wolf's nose. He sniffed and looked down, stretching his neck so long that he could no longer hold himself, and he began to slide. He slid off the roof, fell into the trough, and drowned. And Little Red Cap returned home happily, and no one harmed her.
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威廉·杰斐逊·克林顿,是第42任,52届美国总统。在克林顿的执政下,美国经历了历史上和平时期持续时间最长的一次经济发展。在美国人眼中最伟大的总统是林肯,其次是肯尼迪,第三名就是克林顿!下面读文网小编为大家带来克林顿就职演讲中英文稿,希望对你有所帮助!
同胞们:
今天,我们庆祝美国复兴的奇迹。这个仪式虽在隆冬举行,然而,我们通过自己的言语和向世界展示的面容、却促使春回大地--回到了世界上这个最古老的民主国家,并带来了重新创造美国的远见和勇气。
当我国的缔造者勇敢地向世界宣布美国独立,并向上帝表明自 己的目的时,他们知道,美国若要永存,就必须变革。不是为变革而变革,而是为了维护美国的理想--为了生命、自由和追求幸福而变革。尽管我们随着当今时代 的节拍前进,但我们的使命永恒不变。每一代美国人,部必须为作为一个美国人意味着什么下定义。今天,在冷战阴影下成长起来的一代人,在世界上负起了新的责 任。这个世界虽然沐浴着自由的阳光,但仍受到旧仇宿怨和新的祸患的威胁。
我们在无与伦比的繁荣中长大,继承了仍然是世界上最强大的经济。但由于企业倒闭,工资增长停滞、不平等状况加剧,人民的分歧加深,我们的经济已经削弱。
当乔治•华盛顿第一次宣读我刚才宜读的誓言时,人们骑马把 那个信息缓慢地传遍大地,继而又来船把它传过海洋。而现在,这个仪式的情景和声音即刻向全球几十亿人播放。通信和商务具有全球性,投资具有流动性;技术几 乎具有魔力;改善生活的理想现在具有普遍性。今天,我们美国人通过同世界各地人民进行和平竞争来谋求生存。各种深远而强大的力量正在震撼和改造我们的世 界,当今时代的当务之急是我们能否使变革成为我们的朋友,而不是成为我们的敌人。
这个新世界已经使几百万能够参与竞争并且取胜的美国人过上 了富裕的生活。但是,当多数人干得越多反而挣得越少的时候,当有些人根本不可能工作的时候,当保健费用的重负使众多家庭不堪承受、使大大小小的企业濒临破 产的时候,当犯罪活动的恐惧使守法公民不能自由行动的时候,当千百万贫穷儿童甚至不能想象我们呼唤他们过的那种生活的时候,我们就没有使变革成为我们的朋 友。我们知道,我们必须面对严酷的事实真相,并采取强有力的步骤。但我们没有这样做,而是听之任之,以致损耗了我们的资源,破坏了我们的经济,动摇了我们 的信心。
我们面临惊人的挑战,但我们同样具有惊人的力量,美国人历来是不安现状、不断追求和充满希望的民族,今天,我们必须把前人的远见卓识和坚强意志带到我们的任务中去。从革命,内战,大萧条,直到民权运动,我国人民总是下定决心,从历次危机中构筑我国历史的支柱。
托马斯•杰斐逊认为,为了维护我国的根基,我们需要时常进行激动人心的变革。美国同胞们,我们的时代就是变革的时代,让我们拥抱这个时代吧!
我们的民主制度不仅要成为举世称羡的目标,而且要成为举国复兴的动力。美国没有任何错误的东西不能被正确的东西所纠正。因此,我们今天立下誓言,要结束这个僵持停顿、放任自流的时代,一个复兴美国的新时代已经开始。
我们要复兴美国,就必须鼓足勇气。我们必须做前人无需做的 事情。我们必须更多地投资于人民,投资于他们的工作和未来,与此同时,我们必须减少巨额债务。而且,我们必须在一个需要为每个机会而竞争的世界上做到这一 切。这样做并不容易:这样做要求作出牺牲。但是,这是做得到的,而且能做得公平合理。我们不是为牺牲而牺牲,我们必须像家庭供养子女那样供养自己的国家。
我国的缔造者是用子孙后代的眼光来审视自己的。我们也必须 这样做。凡是注意过孩子蒙?o人睡的人,都知道后代意味着什么,后代就是将要到来的世界--我们为之坚持自己的理想,我们向之借用这个星球,我们对之负有 神圣的责任。我们必须做美国最拿手的事情:为所有的人提供更多的机会,要所有的人负起更多的责任。
现在是破除只求向政府和别人免费索取的恶习的时候了。让我们大家不仅为自己和家庭,而且为社区和国家担负起更多的责任吧。
我们要复兴美国,就必须恢复我们民主制度的活力。这个美丽的首都,就像文明的曙光出现以来的每一个首都一样,常常是尔虞我诈、明争暗斗之地。大腕人物争权夺势,没完没了地为官员的更替升降而烦神,却忘记了那些用辛勤和汗水把我们送到这里来,并养活了我们的人。
美国人理应得到更好的回报。在这个城市里,今天有人想把事 情办得更好一些。因此,我要时所有在场的人说:让我们下定决心改革政治,使权力和特权的喧嚣不再压倒人民的呼声。让我们撇开个人利益。这样我们就能觉察美 国的病痛,并看到官的希望。让我们下定决心,使政府成为富兰克林•罗斯福所说的进行"大胆而持久试验"的地方,成为一个面向未来而不是留恋过去的政府。让 我们把这个首都归还给它所属于的人民。
我们要复兴美国,就必须迎接国内外的种种挑战。国外和国内事务之间已不再有明确的界限--世界经济,世界环境,世界艾滋病危机,世界军备竞赛,这一切都在影响着我们大家。
我们在国内进行重建的同时,面对这个新世界的挑战不会退缩不前,也下会坐失良机。我们将同盟友一起努力进行变革,以免被变革所吞没。当我们的重要利益受到挑战,或者,当国际社会的意志和良知受到蔑视,我们将采取行动--可能时就采用和平外交手段,必要时就使用武力。
今天,在波斯湾、索马里和任何其他地方为国效力的勇敢的美国人,都证明了我们的决心。
但是,我们最伟大的力量是我们思想的威力。这些思想在许多国家仍然处于萌芽阶段。看到这些思想在世界各地被接受,我们感到欢欣鼓舞。我们的希望,我们的心,与每一个大陆正在建立民主和自由的人们是连在一起的。他们的事业也是美国的事业。
美国人民唤来了我们今天所庆祝的变革。你们毫不含糊地齐声疾呼。你们以前所未有的人数参加了投票。你们使国会、总统职务和政治进程本身全都面目一新。是的,是你们,我的美国同胞们,促使春回大地。
现在,我们必须做这个季节需要做的工作。现在,我就运用我的全部职权转向这项工作。我请求国会同我一道做这项工作。任何总统、任何国会、任何政府都不能单独完成这一使命。同胞们,在我国复兴的过程中,你们也必须发挥作用。
我向新一代美国年轻人挑战,要求你们投入这一奉献的季节--按照你们的理想主义行动起来,使不幸的儿童得到帮助,使贫困的人们得到关怀,使四分五裂的社区恢复联系。要做的事情很多--确实够多的,以至几百万在精神上仍然年轻的人也可作出奉献。
在奉献过程中,我们认识到相互需要这一简单而又强大的真 理。我们必须相互关心.今天,我们不仅是在赞颂美国,我们再一次把自己奉献给美国的理想:这个理想在革命中诞生,在两个世纪的挑战中更新;这个理想经受了 认识的考验,大家认识到,若不是命运的安排,幸运者或不幸者有可能互换位置;这个理想由于一种信念而变得崇高,即我国能够从纷繁的多佯性中实现最深刻的统 一性,这个理想洋溢着一种信:美国漫长而英勇的旅程必将永远继续。同胞们,在我恻即将跨入21世纪之际,让我们以旺盛的精力和满腔的希望,以坚定的信心和 严明的纪律开始工作,直到把工作完成。《圣经》说:"我们行善,不可丧志,若不灰心,到了时候,就要收成。"
在这个欢乐的山巅,我们听见山谷里传来了要我们作出奉献的召唤。我们听到了号角声。我们已经换岗。现在,我们必须以各自的方式,在上帝的帮助下响应这一召唤。
谢谢大家。上帝保佑大家。
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英国的教育体系经过几百年的沿革,相当的完善和复杂,这里就有它的英文版介绍。下面读文网小编为大家带来英国教育体系英文简介,希望对你有所帮助!
英国教育体系总体来说分为三个阶段: 义务教育(Compulsory Education),延续教育(Further Education)和高等教育(Higher Education)。
一、义务教育 (Compulsory Education)
英国的学生从四岁开始接受义务教育,享受全免费的国家福利,学校甚至还提供免费的午餐,所有的家长必须把自己的孩子送到学校读书。小学教育一般持续到11岁,然后进入中学。英国的中学不分初中高中,从中一(Form 1)到中五(Form 5)共五年的时间。
二、延续教育(Further Education)
延续教育是英国教育体系中最有特色也最精彩的部分,它是继小学(Primary)中学(Secondary)教育之后的“第三级教育”(Tertiary)。为进入高等教育或者就业打下基础。也是中国的高中学生留学英国的关键阶段。一般来说接受延续教育的学生介于16和18岁之间。它分为两种体系:学业路线(Academic Route)和职业路线(Vocational Route)。学业路线着重于培养学术研究方面的人才,职业路线则结合社会各层面的职业需要,培养在各种行业中具有专门技能和知识的人才。这两种体系在英国受到同等的重视。
三、高等教育(Higher Education)
顾名思义,高等教育是英国教育体系中的高级阶段,它包括:
本科(Bachelor Degree)
研究生(Master Degree)
博士生(Doctorial Degree)
高级国家文凭(HND-Higher National Diploma)。
高等教育通常都是由大学(University)提供,但许多学院(College)也提供Bachelor和HND课程。
看了英国教育体系英文版介绍这篇文章
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《假如给我三天光明》是作者海伦·凯勒的自传,被誉为“世界文学史上无与伦比的杰作”。她以自己的经历告诫人们应珍惜生命,珍惜造物主赐予的一切。如果你想欣赏一下这篇经典名作的话,那么就不要错过下面读文网小编为大家带来假如给我三天光明完整英文版及中文翻译,希望大家喜欢!
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours.
But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It ahs often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would tech him the joys of sound.
Now and them I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who hadjust returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. "Nothing in particular, " she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see. If with the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
The First Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "Window of the soul", the eye. I can only "see" through my finger tips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch. I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friends or acquaintance/ Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbandsdo not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see. A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one.
I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home. I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoon of that first seeing day. I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field 9perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, so full would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day of sight - I should arisewith the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course. Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, butI have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of the processes of development in animals, in man, and in the implements which man has used to fashion for himself a secure home on this planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers of the Metropolitan Museum, is unfolded before me the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as expressed in their art. I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile-land. I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors. Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that of later generations. I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving. These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be
seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through this art. The things I knew through touch I should now see. More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions. I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt. I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of E1 Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you. I should be able to get only a superficial impression. Artists tell me that fordeep and true appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color. If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study! Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night,unexplored and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected. Seeing persons, however, do not need a metropolitan to find this key to beauty. The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening of my second day of sight I should spend at a theatre or at the movies. Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings! How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see. You who have eyes can see any you like. How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle. I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama, and I shall never forget the delight of that moment. But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in mymind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So, through the evening of my second imaginary day of sight, the great fingers of dramatic literature would crowd sleep from my eyes.
The Third Day
The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.
This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight. I shall have no time to waste in regrets or longings; there is too much to see. The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate. The second revealed to me the history of man and Nature. Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life. And where can one find so many activities and conditions of men as in New York? So the city becomes my destination.
I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island. Here , surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city. I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man. Busy boasts chug and scurry about the river - racy speed boat, stolid, snorting tugs. If I had long days of sight ahead, I should spend many of them watching the delightful activity upon the river.
I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story. What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires. these vast banks of stone and steel-structures such as the gods might build for themselves! This animated picture is a part of the lives of millions of people every day.
How many, I wonder, give it so much as a seconds glance? Very few, I fear, Their eyes are blind to this magnificent sight because it is so familiar to them.
I hurry to the top of one of those gigantic structures, the Empire State Building, for there , a short time ago, I "saw" the city below through the eyes of my secretary. I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality. I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.
Now I begin my rounds of the city. First, I stand at a busy corner, merely looking at people, trying by sight of them to understand something of their live. I see smiles, and I am happy. I see serious determination, and I am proud, I see suffering, and I am compassionate.
I stroll down Fifth Avenue. I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of colors. I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire. But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most other women -- too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass. And I am convinced, too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.
From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city-to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play. I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters. Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to my understanding of how people work and live. my heart is full of the images of people and things. My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon. Some sights are pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic. To these latter I do not shut my eyes, for they, too, are part of life. To close the eye on them is to close the heart and mind.
My third day of sight is drawing to an end. Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theater, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.
At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again. Naturally in those three short days I should not have seen all I wanted to see. Only when darkness had again descended upon me should I realize how much I had left unseen. But my mind would be so crowded with glorious memories that I should have little time for regrets. Thereafter the touch of every object would bring a glowing memory of how that object looked.
Perhaps this short outline of how I should spend three days of sight does not agree with the program you would set for yourself if you knew that you were about to be stricken blind. I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead. You would use your eyes as never before. Everything you saw would become dear to you. Your eyes would touch and embrace every object that came within your range of vision. Then, at last, you would really see, and a new world of beauty would open itself before you.
I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.
And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.
Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never s
mell and taste again. Make the most of every sense: glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be the most delightful.#p#副标题#e#
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《安妮日记》是安妮·弗兰克遇难前两年藏身密室时写下的生活和情感的记录。今天读文网小编为大家带来安妮日记英文版摘抄,欢迎大家阅读!
MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942
I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. The Rin Tin Tin movie was a big hit with my classmates. I got two brooches, a bookmark and two books. I'll start by saying a few things about my school and my class, beginning with the students.
Betty Bloemendaal looks kind of poor, and I think she probably is. She lives on some obscure street in West Amsterdam, and none of us know where it is. She does very well at school, but that's because she works so hard, not because she's so smart. She's pretty quiet.
Jacqueline van Maarsen is supposedly my best friend, but I've never had a real friend. At first I thought Jacque would be one, but I was badly mistaken.
D.Q.* [* Initials have been assigned at random to those persons who prefer to remain anonymous.] is a very nervous girl who's always forgetting things, so the teachers keep assigning her extra homework as punishment. She's very kind, especially to G.Z.
E.S. talks so much it isn't funny. She's always touching your hair or fiddling with your buttons when she asks you something. They say she can't stand me, but I don't care, since I don't like her much either.
Henny Mets is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, except that she talks in a loud voice and is really childish when we're playing outdoors. Unfortunately, Henny has a girlfriend named Beppy who's a bad influence on her because she's dirty and vulgar.
J.R. - I could write a whole book about her. J. is a detestable, sneaky, stuck-up, two-faced gossip who thinks she's so grown-up. She's really got Jacque under her spell, and that's a shame. J. is easily offended, bursts into tears at the slightest thing and, to top it all off, is a terrible show-off. Miss J. always has to be right. She's very rich, and has a closet full of the most adorable dresses that are way too old for her. She thinks she's gorgeous, but she's not. J. and I can't stand each other.
Ilse Wagner is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, but she's extremely fInicky and can spend hours moaning and groaning about something. Ilse likes me a lot. She's very smart, but lazy.
Hanneli Goslar, or Lies as she's called at school, is a bit on the strange side. She's usually shy -- outspoken at horne, but reserved around other people. She blabs whatever you tell her to her mother. But she says what she thinks, and lately I've corne to appreciate her a great deal.
Nannie van Praag-Sigaar is small, funny and sensible. I think she's nice. She's pretty smart. There isn't much else you can say about Nannie. Eefje de Jong is, in my opinion, terrific. Though she's only twelve, she's quite the lady. She acts as if I were a baby. She's also very helpful, and I like her.
G.Z. is the prettiest girl in our class. She has a nice face, but is kind of dumb. I think they're going to hold her back a year, but of course I haven't told her that.
COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE AT A LATER DATE: To my areat surprise, G.Z. wasn't held back a year after all.
And sitting next to G.Z. is the last of us twelve girls, me.
There's a lot to be said about the boys, or maybe not so much after all.
Maurice Coster is one of my many admirers, but pretty much of a pest. Sallie Springer has a filthy mind, and rumor has it that he's gone all the way. Still, I think he's terrific, because he's very funny.
Emiel Bonewit is G.Z.'s admirer, but she doesn't care. He's pretty boring. Rob Cohen used to be in love with me too, but I can't stand him anymore. He's an obnoxious, two-faced, lying, sniveling little goof who has an awfully high opinion of himself.
Max van de Velde is a farm boy from Medemblik, but eminently suitable, as Margot would say.
Herman Koopman also has a filthy mind, just like Jopie de Beer, who's a terrible flirt and absolutely girl-crazy.
Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer's best friend, but has been ruined by his dirty mind.
Albert de Mesquita came from the Montessori School and skipped a grade. He's really smart.
Leo Slager came from the same school, but isn't as smart.
Ru Stoppelmon is a short, goofy boy from Almelo who transferred to this school in the middle of the year.
C.N. does whatever he's not supposed to.
Jacques Kocernoot sits behind us, next to C., and we (G. and I) laugh ourselves silly.
Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class. He's nice.
Werner Joseph is nice too, but all the changes taking place lately have made him too quiet, so he seems boring. Sam Salomon is one of those tough guys from across the tracks. A real brat. (Admirer!)
Appie Riem is pretty Orthodox, but a brat too.
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想做一个优秀的英语演讲,首先要写出一篇优秀的英语演讲稿,那么你知道英语演讲稿要怎么写吗?下面是读文网小编为大家带来3分钟英语演讲稿短文附翻译,供大家参考学习!
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every vally shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
Wow, what a dream it has been for Martin Luther King. But the changing world seems telling me that people gradually get their dreams lost somehow in the process of growing up, and sometimes I personally find myself saying goodbye unconsciously to those distant childhood dreams.
However, we meed dreams. They nourish our spirit; they represent possibility even when we are dragged down by reality. They keep us going. Most successful people are dreamers as well as ordinary people who are not afraid to think big and dare to be great. When we were little kids, we all dreamed of doing something big and splashy, something significant. Now what we need to do is to maintain them, refresh them and turn them into reality. However, the toughest part is that we often have no ideas how to translate these dreams into actions. Well, just start with concrete objectives and stick to it. Don’t let the nameless fear confuse the eye and confound our strong belief of future. Through our talents, through our wits, through our endurance and through our creativity, we will make it.
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams, for when dreams go, life is a barren field frozen with snow. So my dear friends, think of your old and maybe dead dreams. Whatever it is, pick it up and make it alive from today.
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母亲节是我们用来感谢母亲把我们养大的特殊节日,那么你知道有关母亲节的英语作文要怎么写吗?下面读文网小编为大家带来母亲节英语作文带翻译,希望对大家的学习有所帮助!
Mother's Day is a celebration honoring mothers and celebrating motherhood, maternal bonds and the influence of mothers in society. It's a day to show thanks to mothers. This festival first appeared in ancient Greece and modern Mother's Day originated in the United States which usually falls on the second Sunday of May each year. Mothers usually receive gifts on this day and carnation(康乃馨) is regarded as the flower for mother. In China, the flower for mother is day lily(萱草花), also known as Nepenthe(忘忧草). In addition, cleaning up the room, doing housework and a big dinner are considered to be the best Mother's Day gifts.
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母亲节是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。很快就要到母亲节了,那么你知道母亲节用英语怎么说吗?下面和读文网小编一起来学习一下母亲节的英语说法吧。
感恩母亲节 Thanks Giving for Mother's Day
母亲节的礼物 Mother's Day Gifts
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演讲稿是进行演讲的依据,是对演讲内容和形式的规范和提示,它体现着演讲的目的和手段。演讲稿是人们在工作和社会生活中经常使用的一种文体,可以用来交流思想、感情,表达主张。那么你知道演讲稿用英语怎么说吗?接下来跟着读文网小编来学习一下吧。
演讲稿写作 the writing of lecture
竞选演讲稿 A Campaign Speech
起草演讲稿 draft a speech
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母亲节是我们一个感谢母亲的节日,起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。不管送什么礼物给母亲,都比不上一句母亲节快乐重要。那么你知道母亲节快乐用英语怎么说吗?下面读文网小编为大家带来母亲节快乐的英语说法和母亲节英语祝福语,希望对你有所帮助。
Have you been searching for the perfect Mother’s Day gift yet still has not been able to find something that will suit your mom? If so, put together your own gift basket for her. If your mom likes tech items stop by Best Buy and buy a lot of little things and put them in a nifty basket. If your mom likes spa things stop by Bath and Body Works and give her a one of a kind beauty/spa retreat basket. Of course, you could go out and buy a gift basket but when you put that personal touch of doing it yourself to it that is what makes the gift even more special to mom.
你是不是一直在找母亲节的礼物却还没找到合适的?如果是这样的话,为她自制一个礼品篮吧。如果你的妈妈喜欢科技产品,那在Best Buy(百思买)买一些小玩意儿,再把它们放到漂亮的篮子里。如果你妈妈喜欢水疗,那在Bath and Body Works里给她买一个美容/水疗静思礼品篮。当然,你也可以出去买一个礼品篮,不过假若礼品篮是你亲手做的话,这个礼物将会更加特别。
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母亲节是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。下面读文网小编为大家带来母亲节英语作文三篇,欢迎大家学习!
The mother’s day is a day that we express our sincerely thanks to our mother. This year, the mother’s day is on May 11th. The mother’s day first started from ancient Greek, then the Americans decided that the second Sunday of May is the mother’s day. On this special day, the mothers will receive presents from their children. The gifts could be anything. It is a way that the children show their love and care to their mothers.
As students, we don’t have too much money to buy expensive gifts to our mother, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t do anything to express our thanks to our mothers. We can do something too. I have a few suggestions. For example, we can make a breakfast for our mother, or make a card for her. We can also do some cleaning to reduce mother’s pressure. We can use our lucky money to buy a single carnation. What’s more, we can turn to fathers for help, I think our fathers will be willing to give us some help about what to do on the mother’s day. The chief thing to remember is that the mother’s day is aimed to spend more time with our mother, and appreciate what she has done for the whole family. I think every mother is great, and everybody should do something to let our mothers know that we love her.
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母亲节是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。下面读文网小编为大家带来感恩母亲节的英语作文,欢迎大家学习!
Today is Mother's Day. I know some of my classmates are going to help their mothers with the housework, others .are going to buy some flowers for their mothers. I want to say to her that I love her very much. But as a boy, it is a bit difficult for me to show my heart. I think only girls can do that.
My mother is very kind. She takes care of me day and night. She spends little money, but buys anything for me that I need.
This time I must show my love. I am going to give her a card and write like this, "I love you, mother!" I am going to put it under her pillow.
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母亲节是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。下面读文网小编为大家带来关于母亲节英语作文精选,欢迎大家学习!
In the U.S., mother’s day is a holiday celebrated on the second sunday in May. It is a day when children honor their mothers with cards, gifts, and flowers. It was first observed in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1907. Long before that, there were days honoring mothers even in ancient Greece. In those days, however, it was Rhea, the mother of the gods who was given honor.
Later, in the 1600's, in England there was an annual observance called "Mothering Sunday". It was celebrated during June, on the fourth sunday. On Mothering Sunday, the servants, who generally lived with their employers, were encouraged to return home and honor their mothers. It was traditional for them to bring a special cake along to celebrate the occasion.
In the U.S., in 1907, Ana Jarvis, from Philadelphia, began a campaign to establish a national mother's day. Jarvis persuaded her mother's church in Grafton, West Virginia to celebrate mother's day on the second anniversary of her mother's death, which was the second sunday in May. The next year mother's day was again celebrated in Philadelphia. Jarvis and others began a letter-writing campaign to ministers, businessmen, and politicians in their quest to establish a national mother's day. They were successful. In 1914, the American president proclaimed mother's day a national observance that was to be held each year on the second sunday of May.
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母亲节是一个感谢母亲的节日。这个节日最早出现在古希腊;而现代的母亲节起源于美国,是每年5月的第二个星期日。下面读文网小编为大家带来有关母亲节英语作文,欢迎大家学习!
In the early morning, my sister went out and brought home a bunch of pretty flowers. Right after my mother got up out of bed, we said "Happy Mother‘s Day"! to her and gave her the flowers. My mother was very happy; she smiled and said, ‘How wonderful the flowers look! Thank you! Also, we told her we were going to do all the housework for our beloved mother, and she could take a rest for a day. In the beginning, we were excited about all the work we can do at home. Before long, we found that the housework seemed to be endless, There was cooking and washing, and cleaning to do, and there was shopping to do, too . During the dinner hour, the kitchen seemed so busy. My father was making a salad, my sister was baking a pie for dessert, and I was washing rice and vegetables, and there were many other things to do. Finally, the dinner was ready; it was two hours behind the usual schedule. The food was not as delicious as my mother‘s. Nevertheless, my mother and father enjoyed it, and felt very proud of their daughter and son.
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