为您找到与英文优美语段摘抄带翻译相关的共200个结果:
相信在学习英语这方面,很多人都会很苦恼学不好,不如每日给自己一句英语的唯美句子吧!今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些短的英文美句,欢迎大家阅读!
有那么个名字装在心里,有些话就这么腐烂在心里。
There is a name installed in the heart, some words so rotten in the heart.
其实真正对你好的人,你一辈子,也不会遇到几个。
In fact, the real good for you, your life, will not meet a few.
为什么,总要等到幸福离开后,才发现它曾经来过。
Why, always have to wait until after the happiness left, only to find that it had come.
要是你真的惹到我,你猜我还会不会继续和你胡侃。
If you really get to me, I guess you will not continue and you Hu kan.
找一个快乐的借口,过我的春天,无所谓你在谁身边。
To find a happy excuse, over my spring, no matter who you are.
呵,真可笑,我拼了命为你等下去,你却对我说分手。
Oh, really funny, I fight for you and so on, but you said to me.
灯光,继续闪耀。烟花,继续绽放。音乐,继续回响。
Lights, continue to shine. Fireworks, continue to bloom. Music, continue to echo.
值得留恋的永远不会离去,离去的永远不值得我留恋。
Worthy of nostalgia will never leave, leaving forever is not worth my nostalgia.
最好的爱情,就是可以快乐的做自己,还依然被爱着。
The best love is to be able to be happy, to be loved, to be loved.
所谓最难忘的,就是从来不曾想起,却永远也不会忘记
The most unforgettable, is never remind of, but never forget
走极端的人,不是疯子式的发疯,就是冷漠型的安静。
Go to the extreme, not crazy crazy, is the indifference of the quiet.
失败时可以称为人生财富,成功时可以称为财富人生。
Failure can be called life wealth, success can be called wealth life.
不管自己在爱情中多么努力,总感觉自己是一个失败者。
No matter how hard you try in love, you always feel like a loser.。
想要所有人知道我那些卑微的七情六欲,所以我提起了笔。
I want everyone to know those humble pen so I brought the seven emotions and six sensory pleasures.
我不愿意做你那个想要的影子,因为我想做我自己,你懂吗?
I don't want to be your shadow, because I want to be myself, do you understand?
我想当一个骆驼,因为骆驼不会轻易流泪,它知道水的珍贵。
I would like to be a camel, because the camel will not easily shed tears, it knows the value of water.
每个人都有爱上另一个人的可能,想爱就不能害怕会有伤痕。
Everyone is in love with another man may love, don't be afraid there will be scars.
什么都不要懂,只想继续做梦,害怕醒来以后握不住你的手。
Do not know anything, just want to continue to dream, afraid of waking up after holding your hand.
我直到现在才知道,世界上还有一种感情,竟然可以弄假成真。
I did not know till now, the world has a kind of feeling, can actually real.
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英语的学习越来越重要,每天都阅读一些英语短句,提高自己的英语阅读能力,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些简短优美的英文句子,希望大家会喜欢这些英文语录。
1、Money is not everything. There's Mastercard & Visa.
钞票不是万能的,有时还需要信用卡。
2、The wise never marry, And when they marry they become otherwise.
聪明人都是未婚的,结婚的人很难再聪明起来。
3、Children in backseats cause accidents. Accidents in backseats cause children.
后排座位上的小孩会生出意外,后排座位上的意外会生出小孩。
4、Love is photogenic. It needs darkness to develop.
爱情就象照片 ,需要大量的暗房时间来培养。
5、Love the neighbor. But don't get caught.
要用心去爱你的邻居,不过不要让她的老公知道。
6、Every man should marry. After all, happiness is not the only thing in life.
再快乐的单身汉迟早也会结婚,幸福不是永久的嘛。
7、I love you not for who you are, but for who I am before you.
我爱你不是因为你是谁,而是我在你面前可以是谁。
8、One should love animals. They are so tasty.
每个人都应该热爱动物,因为它们很好吃。
9、A dress is like a barbed fence. It protects the premises without restricting the view.
服饰就象铁丝网,它阻止你冒然行动,但并不妨碍你尽情地观看。
10、Hard work never kills anybody. But why take the risk?
努力工作不会导致死亡!”不过我不会用自己去证明。
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多阅读一些唯美文艺的英语句子,对于我们英语能力的提高也会有所帮助,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些意境优美的英文句子,希望大家会喜欢这些唯美英语语录!
Sometimes, I feel like a little girl who needs protection. 有时候,我觉得自己跟个小女孩似的,渴望有人保护。
really wonder why people suddenly change after they get what they wanted.
真想知道为什么人一旦得到他们想要的,就突然变了。
If I say leave me alone,actually I need you more than at any time. 如果我说我想一个人静一静,其实我比任何时候都需要你。
This is who I am. Nobody said you had to like it这就是我,没人说非要你喜欢。
Those have most power to hurt us, that we love. 我们所爱的人,却最具有伤害我们的力量。
t is not easy to meet each other in such a big world. 世界这么大,能遇见,不容易。
The chase was mad, mad now retire曾经发了疯的追,如今拼了命的退。
Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So, love the people who treat you right and forget about the ones who do not. -
生命太短,没留时间给我们每日带着遗憾醒来。所以去爱那些对你好的人,忘掉那些不知珍惜你的人。
My weakness is that I care too much.我的弱点就是太在乎了。
Life is not always what we want it to be. We fight. We cry. And sometimes, we give up. But in our hearts, we know it's still love生活有时不尽如人意。我们挣扎、哭泣,有时甚至放弃。但内心始终充满爱。
I love you, always have always will. 我爱你,一直很爱你,以后也会很爱你
Trust is like a piece of paper, once it's crumpled, it can't be perfect again信任就像是一张白纸,一旦皱了,它就不可能再完美。
Thinking too much of others makes you nothing in their eyes把别人看得太重,结果在别人眼里自己什么都不是。
Don't be a woman that needs a man. Be a woman a man needs.不做需要男人的女人, 而做男人需要的女人.
We met at the wrong time, but separated at the right time. The most urgent is to take the most beautiful scenery, the deepest wound was the most real emotions
我们在错误的时间相遇,在正确的时间却又分开。 走的最急的是最美的景色,伤的最深的是最真的感情。
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《双城记》的情节感人肺腑,是世界文学经典名著之一,今天读文网小编为大家带来一些《双城记》英文经典段落,欢迎大家阅读!
In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protectionto justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, andhighway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night;families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town withoutremoving their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; thehighwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, beingrecognised and challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped inhis character of "the Captain," gallantly shot him through the headand rode away; the mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guardshot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, "inconsequence of the failure of his ammunition:" after which the mailwas robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor ofLondon, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by onehighwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all hisretinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with theirturkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them,loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamondcrosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms;musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contraband goods,and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fir on themob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of thecommon way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and everworse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing uplong rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker onSaturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in thehand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door ofWestminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer,and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boyof sixpence.
All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in andclose upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred andseventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmerworked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two ofthe plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried theirdivine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand sevenhundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads ofsmall creatures- the creatures of this chronicle among the rest- alongthe roads that lay before them.
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文字可以是表达我们情感的一种寄托,有些文字既动人又伤感,今天读文网小编在这里为大家介绍一些感人唯美的英语句子,希望大家会喜欢这些英文语录。
1、是不是我消失了,你才知道我的存在。
Did I disappear, you know my existence.
2、别人又怎会懂,你爱而不得有多心疼。
Others how can understand, you love and not have much love.
3、我是你心中的无所谓,眼中的陌生人!
I am your heart does not matter, in the eyes of the stranger!
4、你不说你爱我,我都不知道你是爱我的。
You don't say you love me, I don't know you love me.
5、主动久了突然感觉好累,请允许我离开。
The initiative for a long time suddenly felt tired, please allow me to leave.
6、开始的时侯,我们就知道,总会有终结。
The beginning of the time, we know that there will always be an end.
7、所谓坚强只不过是比谁更能装得无所谓。
The so-called strong is nothing more than who can be installed without the so-called.
8、心酸什么,又不止你一个人深爱而不得。
What is sad, a person more than you love not.
9、时间带走了一切、却带不走对你的思念。
Time takes away everything, but you can not take away the thoughts of you.
10、习惯了你的存在,所以怎么舍得让你离开。
Used to your existence, so how willing to let you go.
11、你总说这是最后一次,可你每次都这么说。
You always say this is the last time, but every time you say so.
12、心痛第一次是撕心裂肺,第二次是顺其自然。
The first is grieved grieved, second is natural.
13、女人伪装幸福,只是害怕被男人发现她伤心。
Woman disguised happiness, just afraid of being a man found her sad.
14、无论我们离得有多远,都不会让你觉得孤单。
No matter how far we are, we won't make you feel lonely.
15、所有的痛和难过都压抑在心里,我要崩溃了。
All the pain and sadness are depressed in the heart, I want to collapse.
16、突然我觉得说爱你说恨你,不过是多余的话。
Suddenly I feel that I love you, I hate you, but it is superfluous words.
17、我的演技一定特别好,好到难过都无人知道。
My acting skill must be particularly good, good to sad no one know.
18、你说我有多坚强,我又没比别人多一颗心脏。
You say how strong I am, I have no more than one heart.
19、我知道我都知道,可是我就是控制不了自己。
I know I know, but I just can't control myself.
20、感觉自己什么也不缺,仔细想想却什么也没有。
Feel that nothing is missing, but think carefully but nothing.
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我们的人生需要一些励志的话语段落陪伴我们度过人生的挫折,下面读文网小编为大家带来经典励志英语段落摘抄带翻译,希望大家喜欢!
Then the wandering soul wild crane stands still the memory river Listen to whistle play tightly ring slowly, Water rises a ship to go medium long things of the past. Wait for a ship’s person Wait for one and other, But hesitate always should ascend which ship Missed Had to consign the hope to next time, Finally what to wait for until has no boats and ships to come and go, Sunset west .
再孤魂野鹤的鹄立记忆河头, 听着哨子的紧奏慢响, 水涨船行中的悠悠旧事。 等船的人儿, 等了一班又一班, 却始终迟疑着该登哪一只。 错过的, 只好把盼望寄托到了下一回, 毕竟等到的是不船只的过往, 日落西头 。
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莎士比亚十四行诗结构技巧和语言技巧都很高,每首诗都有独立的审美价值,让人沉醉于优美的文字当中。下面是读文网小编为大家带来莎翁优美英文诗歌带翻译,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
我,计算着时钟算出的时辰,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
看到阴黑夜吞掉伟丽的白日;
When I behold the violet past prime,
看到紫罗兰失去了鲜艳的青春,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
貂黑的鬈发都成了雪白的银丝;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
看到昔日用繁枝密叶为牧人
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
遮荫的高树只剩了几根秃柱子,
And summer's green, all girded up in sheaves,
夏季的葱绿都扎做一捆捆收成,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
载在柩车上,带着穗头像白胡子——
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
于是,我开始考虑到你的美丽,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
想你也必定要走进时间的荒夜,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
芬芳与娇妍总是要放弃自己,
And die as fast as they see others grow,
见别人快长,自己却快快凋谢;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defense,
没人敌得过时间的镰刀啊,除非
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
生儿女,你身后留子孙跟他作对。
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英语晨读是一种很好的学习英语的习惯,能有效提高自己的英文水平。下面读文网小编为大家带来励志晨读英语美文摘抄,供大家阅读欣赏!
All over my garden I’ve planted nothing but roses, fragrant and—if looked at from a far—a blaze with color like sunset clouds, I’d be very happy if anyone of my visiting friends should desire to pick and take some for their homes. I trust that any friend of mine carrying the rose would vanish into the distance feeling that his emotions had been rekindled.
我在花园里种了芬芳的玫瑰花,远远望去,像一片燃烧的晚霞。我想等朋友们来做客的时候,让他们带一些玫瑰回家。我相信朋友们捧着火红的玫瑰渐渐消失在远方,一定能被重新点燃往日的情怀。
A close friend came for a visit the other day. I know her to be a lover of flowers and plants. And for that reason I told her at her departure that she should pick a bunch of roses to grace her boudoir. I promised that the scent of the roses would be wafted far, far away.
有一天,一位要好的女友来探望我,我知道她平常最喜爱花花草草。她临别时,我告诉她说,采一束玫瑰装点你的闺房吧,芳香四溢。
That girl friend of mine, tiptoeing into the garden in high spirits, sniffed here and smelt there, but in the end she didn’t pick a single rose. I said there were so many of them that she would pick as many as she’d like to; I told her that I was not a florist and didn’t make a living out of them. Saying so I raised the scissors for the sacrifice of the flowers, but she stopped me, crying no, no, no!
女友轻手轻脚跨进花园,东闻闻西嗅嗅,神采飞扬,就是不肯采摘。我说,没关系,多的是,我又不是花店老板,不靠玫瑰赚钱的。说完,我就举起剪刀准备献美。女友急忙拦住,高声叫着,不可不可。
To cut such beautiful roses would hurt one, she said. With her hands clutching at my sleeves, she told me that by no means should they be cut. Roses are the smiling face of the earth, and who could be so iron-hearted as to destroy a smile so intoxicating?
这么美丽的玫瑰剪下来,让人心疼。她抓紧我的袖子叮咛:千万不能剪啊,玫瑰是泥土的笑脸,谁能忍心毁坏美得醉人的微笑呢?
My mind was thoroughly boggled: the ugly earth, the humble earth, the plain earth—it is for the sake of that smile that it wins the care and pity of people.
我的灵魂猛然一惊:丑陋的泥土,卑微的泥土,朴素的泥土,因为玫瑰,露出了惊艳一笑,正因为这一笑,才赢得了人们的爱惜。
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英文诗歌是最好的英语晨读材料,只要坚持每天英语晨读,相信你的英语水平一定会有很大的提升。下面是读文网小编为大家带来晨读优美英文诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
饕餮的时间呵,磨钝雄狮的利爪吧,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
你教土地把自己的爱子吞掉吧;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
你从猛虎嘴巴里拔下尖牙吧,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
教长命凤凰在自己的血中燃烧吧;特别第四行
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
你飞着把季节弄得时悲时喜吧,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
飞毛腿时间呵,你把这广大的世间
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
和一切可爱的东西,任意处理吧;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime,
但是我禁止你一桩最凶的罪愆:特别第八行
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
你别一刀刀镌刻我爱人的美额,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen.
别用亘古的画笔在那儿画条纹;
Him in thy course untainted do allow,
允许他在你的过程中不染杂色,
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
给人类后代留一个美的准绳。特别第十二行
Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong,
但是,时光老头子,不怕你狠毒:
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
我爱人会在我诗中把青春永驻。
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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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《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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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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《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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多看一些英文的名言警句,不仅能激励自己还能提高自己的英语水平,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享英语名言警句摘抄50句,希望大家会喜欢这些励志英文句子!
16、我们只愿在真理的圣坛之前低头,不愿在一世物质的权威之前拜倒。——郭沫若
We are only willing to bow before the altar of truth, unwilling to grovel before I of material's authority.
17、谁能以深刻的内容充实每个瞬间,谁就是在无限地延长自己的生命。——库尔茨
Who can with profound content enrich every moment, who is in infinite to extend the life of their own.
18、道德普遍地被认为是人类的最高目的,因此也是教育的最高目的。——赫尔巴特
Moral commonly thought to be the highest purpose of human, so is the supreme purpose of education.
19、只有能够激发学生去进行自我教育的教育,才是真正的教育。——苏霍姆林斯基
Only education can stimulate students to self education, is the true education.
20、人生所缺乏的不是才干而是志向,不是成功的能力而是勤劳的意志。——郭尔王
The lack of life is not ability but ambition, not ability to succeed but hardworking will.
21、我的努力求学没有得到别的好处,只不过是愈来愈发觉自己的无知。——笛卡儿
I didn't get other benefits, effort study is just more and find his own ignorance.
22、幽默是表明工人对自己事业具有信心并且表明自己占着优势的标志。——恩格斯
Humor is that workers about their career with confidence and signals of the advantage.
23、生活真象这杯浓酒,不经三番五次的提炼呵,就不会这样一来可口。——郭小川
Life like this cup of liquor, without repeatedly refining oh, would not be so delicious.
24、从智慧的土壤中生出三片绿芽:好的思想,好的语言,好的行动。——希腊谚语
From gives birth to three piece of green shoots in the soil of wisdom: a good idea, good language, good action.
25、我的遗产多么壮丽、广阔、辽远!时间是我的财产,我的田亩是时间。——歌德
I how magnificent, broad, remote legacy! Time is my property, my field is time.
26、人类的全部历史都告诫有智慧的人,不要笃信时运,而应坚信思想。——爱献生
All of human history warns the wise, don't believe in fortunes, but should believe.
27、书籍把我们引入最美好的社会,使我们认识各个时代的伟大智者。——史美尔斯
Books introduce us into the best society, make us know all times great wise man.
28、赢得友谊要靠智慧,保持友谊要靠美德,这两者是同等重要的。——威·佩因特
Win friendship depends on the wisdom, we keep them by virtue, the two are equally important.
29、对于聪明人来说,劝告是多余的;对于愚昧人来说,劝告是不够的。——莫里哀
For the wise, the advice is redundant; For the fool, advice is not enough.
30、科学的惟一目的是减轻人类生存的苦难,科学家应为大多数人着想。——伽利略
Science, the only purpose is to relieve the suffering of the human existence, scientists because most people think.
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一些好听优美的英文句子很适合做我们的个性签名,下面读文网小编为大带来好听优美个性英文签名,希望大家喜欢!
Laugh Until You Cry; Cry Until You Laugh
笑到终于哭出来;哭到终于笑出来。
Alone in a noisy walk street, my world still only have me.
独自一人走在喧闹的街,我的世界仍然只有我。
You always blindly escape.
(总是一味地躲避你 )
“你猜我最想做哪一个超级英雄 ”
“Spiderman?Superman?Batman?”“都不对 your man”
My biggest fear is leaving
我最害怕的是离别,
if you are fine ,then it is a sunny day for me
(时光如水,总是无言,若你安好,便是晴)
The wind blowing the hair is white.
风霜吹满头也算是白首
Don't give me that.
(别给我来这套 。)
Even when I lose I'm winning .
(即使输了一切有你在身边已是满足)
You won't have the second me
【你不会遇见第二个我】
You must be happy, don't waste my mess exit.
(你一定要过得幸福,才不枉我狼狈退出)
I have always been with you。
我会一直待在你的身旁。
You are my sky.
[你是我的天空]
I want to be with you.
若相惜 永不弃。
Sorry, you are not in my mind.
对不起,你不在我心里。
Let the time tell the truth.
任由时间说真话
You've got to learn to let go.
你得学会放手。
The time that you are my most fatal.
时光深知你是我最致命的爱人
For how long was buried beside you is enough
久伴是多久 葬你身旁够不够
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想给自己找一个好看的带翻译的英文网名吗?下面读文网小编为大带来好看的英文网名带翻译,希望大家喜欢!
゛Memor°情若寒ご
嘲笑°oneself
Passerby 过路人
Animai°情兽
北纬scenery┃
妖媚□Sunshine
幻灭The pupL▎
Be shallow. 浅浅
矢心 Hor2°
浮华之海Photogra
窒息旳痛,Scott。
Johnathon 水星
Kolten 莫尔滕
Wayne 韦恩
Zain 扎因
Rayan 拉扬
Keenan 基南
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