日光浴的懒猫
教育 的进步是在改变的基础上实现的,改变的第一步就是摒弃墨守成规的教学思维,英语作为国际沟通交流的语言工具,其在全球化进程中扮演着重要的角色。下面是我带来的经典英语 文章 阅读，欢迎阅读!经典英语文章阅读篇一 十二月的玫瑰 Roses in December Coaches more times than not use their hearts instead of their heads to make tough decisions. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case when I realized we had a baseball conference game scheduled when our seniors would be in Washington, D.C. for the annual senior field trip. We were a team dominated by seniors, and for the first time in many years, we were in the conference race for first place. I knew we couldn’t win without our seniors, so I called the rival coach and asked to reschedule the game when everyone was available to play. “No way,” he replied. The seniors were crushed and offered to skip the much-awaited traditional trip. I assured them they needed to go on the trip as part of their educational experience, though I really wanted to accept their offer and win and go on to the conference championship. But I did not, and on that fateful Tuesday, I wished they were there to play. I had nine underclass players eager and excited that they finally had a chance to play. The most excited player was a young mentally challenged boy we will call Billy. Billy was, I believe, overage, but because he loved sports so much, an understanding principal had given him permission to be on the football and baseball teams. Billy lived and breathed sports and now he would finally get his chance to play. I think his happiness captured the imagination of the eight other substitute players. Billy was very small in size, but he had a big heart and had earned the respect of his teammates with his effort and enthusiasm. He was a left-handed hitter and had good baseball skills. His favorite pastime, except for the time he practiced sports, was to sit with the men at a local rural store talking about sports. On this day, I began to feel that a loss might even be worth Billy’s chance to play. Our opponents jumped off to a four-run lead early in the game, just as expected. Somehow we came back to within one run, and that was the situation when we went to bat in the bottom of the ninth. I was pleased with our team’s effort and the constant grin on Billy’s face. If only we could win..., I thought, but that’s asking too much. If we lose by one run, it will be a victory in itself. The weakest part of our lineup was scheduled to hit, and the opposing coach put his ace pitcher in to seal the victory. To our surprise, with two outs, a batter walked, and the tying run was on first base. Our next hitter was Billy. The crowd cheered as if this were the final inning of the conference championship, and Billy waved jubilantly. I knew he would be unable to hit this pitcher, but what a day it had been for all of us. Strike one. Strike two. A fastball. Billy hit it down the middle over the right fielder’s head for a triple to tie the score. Billy was beside himself, and the crowd went wild. Ben, our next hitter, however, hadn’t hit the ball even once in batting practice or intrasquad games. I knew there was absolutely no way for the impossible dream to continue. Besides, our opponents had the top of their lineup if we went into overtime. It was a crazy situation and one that needed reckless strategy. I called a time-out, and everyone seemed confused when I walked to third base and whispered something to Billy. As expected, Ben swung on the first two pitches, not coming close to either. When the catcher threw the ball back to the pitcher Billy broke from third base sprinting as hard as he could. The pitcher didn’t see him break, and when he did he whirled around wildly and fired the ball home. Billy dove in head first, beat the throw, and scored the winning run. This was not the World Series, but don’t tell that to anyone present that day. Tears were shed as Billy, the hero, was lifted on the shoulders of all eight team members. If you go through town today, forty-two years later, you’ll likely see Billy at that same country store relating to an admiring group the story of the day he won the game that no one expected to win. Of all the spectacular events in my sports career, this memory is the highlight. It exemplified what sports can do for people, and Billy’s great day proved that to everyone who saw the game. J. M. Barrie, the playwright, may have said it best when he wrote, “God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December.” Billy gave all of us a rose garden. 经典英语文章阅读篇二 Big Red The first time we set eyes on "Big Red," father, mother and I were trudging through the freshly fallen snow on our way to Hubble's Hardware store on Main Street in Huntsville, Ontario. We planned to enter our name in the annual Christmas drawing for a chance to win a hamper filled with fancy tinned cookies, tea, fruit and candy. As we passed the Eaton's department store's window, we stopped as usual to gaze and do a bit of dreaming. The gaily decorated window display held the best toys ever. I took an instant hankering for a huge green wagon. It was big enough to haul three armloads of firewood, two buckets of swill or a whole summer's worth of pop bottles picked from along the highway. There were skates that would make Millar's Pond well worth shovelling and dolls much too pretty to play with. And they were all nestled snugly beneath the breathtakingly flounced skirt of Big Red. Mother's eyes were glued to the massive flare of red shimmering satin, dotted with twinkling sequin-centred black velvet stars. "My goodness," she managed to say in trancelike wonder. "Would you just look at that dress!" Then, totally out of character, mother twirled one spin of a waltz on the slippery sidewalk. Beneath the heavy, wooden-buttoned, grey wool coat she had worn every winter for as long as I could remember, mother lost her balance and tumbled. Father quickly caught her. Her cheeks redder than usual, mother swatted dad for laughing. "Oh, stop that!" she ordered, shooing his fluttering hands as he swept the snow from her coat. "What a silly dress to be perched up there in the window of Eaton's!" She shook her head in disgust. "Who on earth would want such a splashy dress?" As we continued down the street, mother turned back for one more look. "My goodness! You'd think they'd display something a person could use!" Christmas was nearing, and the red dress was soon forgotten. Mother, of all people, was not one to wish for, or spend money on, items that were not practical. "There are things we need more than this," she'd always say, or, "There are things we need more than that." Father, on the other hand, liked to indulge whenever the budget allowed. Of course, he'd get a scolding for his occasional splurging, but it was all done with the best intention. Like the time he brought home the electric range. In our old Muskoka farmhouse on Oxtongue Lake, Mother was still cooking year-round on a wood stove. In the summer, the kitchen would be so hot even the houseflies wouldn't come inside. Yet, there would be Mother – roasting - right along with the pork and turnips. One day, Dad surprised her with a fancy new electric range. She protested, of course, saying that the wood stove cooked just dandy, that the electric stove was too dear and that it would cost too much hydro to run it. All the while, however, she was polishing its already shiny chrome knobs. In spite of her objections, Dad and I knew that she cherished that new stove. There were many other modern things that old farm needed, like indoor plumbing and a clothes dryer, but Mom insisted that those things would have to wait until we could afford them. Mom was forever doing chores - washing laundry by hand, tending the pigs and working in our huge garden - so she always wore mended, cotton-print housedresses and an apron to protect the front. She did have one or two "special" dresses saved for church on Sundays. And with everything else she did, she still managed to make almost all of our clothes. They weren't fancy, but they did wear well. That Christmas I bought Dad a handful of fishing lures from the Five to a Dollar store, and wrapped them individually in matchboxes so he'd have plenty of gifts to open from me. Choosing something for Mother was much harder. When Dad and I asked, she thought carefully then hinted modestly for some tea towels, face cloths or a new dishpan. On our last trip to town before Christmas, we were driving up Main Street when Mother suddenly exclaimed in surprise: "Would you just look at that!" She pointed excitedly as Dad drove past Eaton's. "That big red dress is gone," she said in disbelief. "It's actually gone." "Well . . . I'll be!" Dad chuckled. "By golly, it is!" "Who'd be fool enough to buy such a frivolous dress?" Mother questioned, shaking her head. I quickly stole a glance at Dad. His blue eyes were twinkling as he nudged me with his elbow. Mother craned her neck for another glimpse out the rear window as we rode on up the street. "It's gone . . ." she whispered. I was almost certain that I detected a trace of yearning in her voice. I'll never forget that Christmas morning. I watched as Mother peeled the tissue paper off a large box that read "Eaton's Finest Enamel Dishpan" on its lid. "Oh Frank," she praised, "just what I wanted!" Dad was sitting in his rocker, a huge grin on his face. "Only a fool wouldn't give a priceless wife like mine exactly what she wants for Christmas," he laughed. "Go ahead, open it up and make sure there are no chips." Dad winked at me, confirming his secret, and my heart filled with more love for my father than I thought it could hold! Mother opened the box to find a big white enamel dishpan - overflowing with crimson satin that spilled out across her lap. With trembling hands she touched the elegant material of Big Red. "Oh my goodness!" she managed to utter, her eyes filled with tears. "Oh Frank . . ." Her face was as bright as the star that twinkled on our tree in the corner of the small room. "You shouldn't have . . ." came her faint attempt at scolding. "Oh now, never mind that!" Dad said. "Let's see if it fits," he laughed, helping her slip the marvellous dress over her shoulders. As the shimmering red satin fell around her, it gracefully hid the patched and faded floral housedress underneath. I watched, my mouth agape, captivated by a radiance in my parents I had never noticed before. As they waltzed around the room, Big Red swirled its magic deep into my heart. "You look beautiful," my dad whispered to my mom - and she surely did! 经典英语文章阅读篇三 你才是我的幸福 She was dancing. My crippled grandmother was dancing. I stood in the living room doorway absolutely stunned. I glanced at the kitchen table and sure enough-right under a small, framed drawing on the wall-was a freshly baked peach pie. I heard her sing when I opened the door but did not want to interrupt the beautiful song by yelling I had arrived, so I just tiptoed to the living room. I looked at how her still-lean body bent beautifully, her arms greeting the sunlight that was pouring through the window. And her legs... Those legs that had stiffly walked, aided with a cane, insensible shoes as long as I could remember. Now she was wearing beautiful dancing shoes and her legs obeyed her perfectly. No limping. No stiffness. Just beautiful, fluid motion. She was the pet of the dancing world. And then she’d had her accident and it was all over. I had read that in an old newspaper clipping. She turned around in a slow pirouette and saw me standing in the doorway. Her song ended, and her beautiful movements with it, so abruptly that it felt like being shaken awake from a beautiful dream. The sudden silence rang in my ears. Grandma looked so much like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar that I couldn’t help myself, and a slightly nervous laughter escaped. Grandma sighed and turned towards the kitchen. I followed her, not believing my eyes. She was walking with no difficulties in her beautiful shoes. We sat down by the table and cut ourselves big pieces of her delicious peach pie. "So...” I blurted, “How did your leg heal?" "To tell you the truth—my legs have been well all my life," she said. "But I don’t understand!" I said, "Your dancing career... I mean... You pretended all these years? "Very much so," Grandmother closed her eyes and savored the peach pie, "And for a very good reason." "What reason?" "Your grandfather." "You mean he told you not to dance?" "No, this was my choice. I am sure I would have lost him if I had continued dancing. I weighed fame and love against each other and love won." She thought for a while and then continued. “We were talking about engagement when your grandfather had to go to war. It was the most horrible day of my life when he left. I was so afraid of losing him, the only way I could stay sane was to dance. I put all my energy and time into practicing—and I became very good. Critics praised me, the public loved me, but all I could feel was the ache in my heart, not knowing whether the love of my life would ever return. Then I went home and read and re-read his letters until I fell asleep. He always ended his letters with ‘You are my Joy. I love you with my life’ and after that he wrote his name. And then one day a letter came. There were only three sentences: ‘I have lost my leg. I am no longer a whole man and now give you back your freedom. It is best you forget about me.’” "I made my decision there and then. I took my leave, and traveled away from the city. When I returned I had bought myself a cane and wrapped my leg tightly with bandages. I told everyone I had been in a car crash and that my leg would never completely heal again. My dancing days were over. No one suspected the story—I had learned to limp convincingly before I returned home. And I made sure the first person to hear of my accident was a reporter I knew well. Then I traveled to the hospital. They had pushed your grandfather outside in his wheelchair. There was a cane on the ground by his wheelchair. I took a deep breath, leaned on my cane and limped to him. " By now I had forgotten about the pie and listened to grandma, mesmerized. “What happened then?” I hurried her when she took her time eating some pie. "I told him he was not the only one who had lost a leg, even if mine was still attached to me. I showed him newspaper clippings of my accident. ‘So if you think I’m going to let you feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your life, think again. There is a whole life waiting for us out there! I don’t intend to be sorry for myself. But I have enough on my plate as it is, so you’d better snap out of it too. And I am not going to carry you-you are going to walk yourself.’" Grandma giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound coming from an old lady with white hair. "I limped a few steps toward him and showed him what I’d taken out of my pocket. ‘Now show me you are still a man,’ I said, ‘I won’t ask again.’ He bent to take his cane from the ground and struggled out of that wheelchair. I could see he had not done it before, because he almost fell on his face, having only one leg. But I was not going to help. And so he managed it on his own and walked to me and never sat in a wheelchair again in his life." "What did you show him?" I had to know. Grandma looked at me and grinned. "Two engagement rings, of course. I had bought them the day after he left for the war and I was not going to waste them on any other man." I looked at the drawing on the kitchen wall, sketched by my grandfather’s hand so many years before. The picture became distorted as tears filled my eyes. “You are my Joy. I love you with my life.” I murmured quietly. The young woman in the drawing sat on her park bench and with twinkling eyes smiled broadly at me, an engagement ring carefully drawn on her finger. 看了“经典英语文章阅读”的人还看了： 1. 经典美文阅读:生命在于完整 2. 英语经典美文阅读:品味现在 3. 经典美文佳作英汉阅读 4. 励志经典英语美文阅读 5. 一生必读的英文经典美文
小白兔QUEEN
在 英语学习 中,阅读能力是学习者发展 其它 语言能力(听、说、写、译)的基础。下面是我带来的经典英语好 文章 摘抄，欢迎阅读!经典英语好文章摘抄篇一 Change Makes Life Beautiful(生命美于变化) To regard all things and principles of things as inconstant modes or fashions has more and more become the tendency of modern thought. Let us begin with that which is without——our physical life. Fix upon it in one of its more exquisite intervals，the moment，for instance，of delicious recoil from the flood of water in summer heat. What is the whole physical life in that moment but a combination of natural elements to which science gives their names?But these elements，phosphorus and lime and delicate fibers，are present not in the human body alone：we detect them in places most remote from it. Our physical life is a perpetual motion of them——the passage of the blood，the wasting and repairing of the lenses of the eye，the modification of the tissues of the brain under every ray of light and sound-processes which science reduces to simpler and more elementary forces. Like the elements of which we are composed，the action of these forces extends beyond us：it rusts iron and ripens corn. Far out on every side of us those elements are broadcast，driven in many currents;and birth and gesture and death and the springing of violets from the grave are but a few out of ten thousand resultant combinations. That clear，perpetual outline of face and limb is but an image of ours，under which we group them a design in a web，the actual threads of which pass out beyond it. This at least of flame——like our life has，that it is but the concurrence，renewed from moment to moment，of forces parting sooner or later on their ways. 生命美于变化 将所有事物和事物的原则统统归结为经常变化着的形态或风尚，这已日益成为近代思想界的一个趋势。我们可以从我们的生理活动等表面的事情说起。举个例子来说，选定在酷暑中猛然浸入滔滔清流的一刹那和感觉极其愉快的这么一个微妙的时刻。在那一瞬间的所有生理活动，难道不可以说是具有科学名称的各种元素的一种化合作用吗?但是，像磷、石灰、微细的纤维质等这些元素，不仅存在于人体之中，而且在与人体没有丝毫关系的地方也能检查出它们的存在。血液的流通，眼睛中水晶体的消耗和恢复，每一道光波、每一次声浪对于脑组织所引起的变异——都不外是这些元素永久的运动。但是科学把这些运动过程还原为更为简单和基本力量的作用。正如我们身体所赖以构成的元素所形成的我们的生理活动的力量，这些力量在我们身体以外也同样发挥着作用——它可以使铁生锈，使谷物成熟。这些元素，在种种气流吹送之下，从我们身外向四面八方传播：人的诞生，人的姿态，人的死亡，以及在人的坟头上生长出紫罗兰——这不过是成千上万化合结果的点滴例子而已。人类那轮廓分明、长久不变的面颜和肢体，不过是一种表象，在它那框架之内，我们好把种种化合的元素凝聚一团——这好像是蛛网的纹样，那织网的细丝从网中穿出，又引向他方。在这一点上，我们的生命有些像那火焰——它也是种种力量汇合的结果，这汇合虽不断延续，那些力量却早晚要各自飘散。 经典英语好文章摘抄篇二 The Date Father Didn’t Keep (父亲失约) It happened in one of those picturesque Danish taverns that cater to tourists and where English is spoken. I was with my father on a business-and-pleasure trip，and in our leisure hours we were having a wonderful time. “It‘s a pity your mother couldn’t come，”said Father.“It would be wonderful to show her around.” He had visited Denmark when he was a young man. I asked him，“How long is it since you were here?” “Oh，about 30 years. I remember being in this very inn，by the way.”He looked around，remembering. “Those were gracious days-”He stopped suddenly，and I saw that his face was pale. I followed his eyes and looked across the room to a woman who was setting a tray of drinks before some customers. She might have been pretty once，but now she was stout and her hair was untidy.“Do you know her?”I asked…… “I did once，”he said. The woman come to our table.“Drinks?”she inquired. “We‘ll have beer，”I said. She nodded and went away. “How she has changed!Thank heaven she didn‘t recognize me，”muttered Father mopping his face with a handkerchief.“I know her before I ever met your mother，”he went on.“I was a student，on a tour. She was a lovely young thing，very graceful. I fell madly in live with her，and she with me.” “Does Mother know about her?”I blurted out，resentfully. “Of course，”Father said gently. He looked at me a little anxiously. I felt embarrassed for him. I said，“Dad，you don‘t have to-” “Oh，yes，I want to tell you. I don‘t want you wondering about this. Her father objected to our romance. I was a foreigner. I had no prospects，and was dependent on my father. When I wrote Father that I wanted to get married he cut off my allowance. And I had to go home. But I met the girl once more，and told her I would return to America，borrow enough money to get married on，and come back for her in a few months.” “We know，”he continued，“that her father might intercept a letter，so we agreed that I would simply mail her a slip of paper with a date on it，the time she was to meet me at a certain place;then we‘d married. Well，I went home，got the loan and sent her the date. She received the note. She wrote me：”I’ll be there.“But she wasn‘t. Then I found that she had been married about two weeks before，to a local innkeeper. She hadn’t waited.” Then my father said，“Thank God she didn‘t. I went home，met your mother，and we’ve been completely happy. We often joke about that youthful love romance.” The woman appeared with our beer. “You are from America?”she asked me. “Yes，”I said. She beamed.“A wonderful country，America.” “Yes，a lot of your countrymen have gone there. Did you ever think of it?” “Not me. Not now，”she said.“I think so one time，a ling time ago. But I stay here. I much better here.” We drank our beer and left. Outside I said，“Father，just how did you write that date on which she was to meet you?” He stopped，took out an envelope and wrote on it.“Like this，”he said.“12/11/73，which was，of course，December 11，1973.” “No!”I exclaimed.“It isn‘t in Denmark or any European country. Over here they write the day first，then the month. So that date wouldn’t be December 11 but the 12th of November!” Father passed his hand over his face.“So she was there!”he exclaimed.“And it was because I didn‘t show up that she got married.”He was silent a while.“Well，”he said.，“I hope she’s happy. She seems be.” As we resumed walking I blurted out，“It is a lucky thing it happened that way. You wouldn‘t have met Mother.” He put his arm around my shoulders，looked at me with a heart-warming smile，and said，“I was doubly lucky，young fellow，for otherwise I wouldn‘t have met you，either!” 经典英语好文章摘抄篇三 改变一生的邂逅 Isn‘t it amazing how one person，sharing one idea，at the right time and place can change the course of your life’s history?This is certainly what happened in my life. When I was 14，I was hitchhiking from Houston，Texas，through El Paso on my way to California. I was following my dream，journeying with the sun. I was a high school dropout with learning disabilities and was set on surfing the biggest waves in the world，first in California and then in Hawaii，where I would later live. Upon reaching downtown El Paso，I met an old man，a bum，on the street corner. He saw me walking，stopped me and questioned me as I passed by. He asked me if I was running away from home，I suppose because I looked so young. I told him，“Not exactly，sir，”since my father had given me a ride to the freeway in Houston and given me his blessings while saying，“It is important to follow your dream and what is in your heart. Son.” The bum then asked me if he could buy me a cup of coffee. I told him，“No，sir，but a soda would be great.”We walked to a corner malt shop and sat down on a couple of swiveling stools while we enjoyed our drinks. After conversing for a few minutes，the friendly bum told me to follow him. He told me that he had something grand to show me and share with me. We walked a couple of blocks until we came upon the downtown El Paso Public Library. We walked up its front steps and stopped at a small information stand. Here the bum spoke to a smiling old lady，and asked her if she would be kind enough to watch my things for a moment while he and I entered the library. I left my belongings with this grandmotherly figure and entered into this magnificent hall of learning. The bum first led me to a table and asked me to sit down and wait for a moment while he looked for something special amongst the shelves. A few moments later，he returned with a couple of old books under his arms and set them on the table. He then sat down beside me and spoke. He started with a few statements that were very special and that changed my life. He said，“There are two things that I want to teach you，young man，and they are these： “Number one is to never judge a book by its cover，for a cover can fool you.”He followed with，“I bet you think I‘m a bum，don’t you，young man?” I said，“Well，uh，yes，I guess so，sir.” “Well，young man，I‘ve got a little surprise for you. I am one of the wealthiest men in the world. I have probably everything any man could ever want. I originally come from the Northeast and have all the things that money can buy. But a year ago，my wife passed away，bless her soul，and since then I have been deeply reflecting upon life. I realized there were certain things I had not yet experienced in life，one of which was what it would be like to live like a bum on the streets. I made a commitment to myself to do exactly that for one year. For the past year，I have been going from city to city doing just that. So，you see，don’t ever judge a book by its cover，for a cover can fool you. “Number two is to learn how to read，my boy. For there is only one thing that people can t take away from you，and that is your wisdom.”At that moment，he reached forward，grabbed my right hand in his and put them upon the books he‘d pulled from the shelves. They were the writings of Plato and Aristotle-immortal classics from ancient times. The bum then led me back past the smiling old woman near the entrance，down the steps and back on the streets near where we first met. His parting request was for me to never forget what he taught me.
