英语经典美文(不得不读)

英语经典美文

(

不得不读

).txt31

岩石下的小草教我们坚强，

峭壁上的野百合教 我们执著，

山

顶上的松树教我们拼搏风雨，严寒中的腊梅教我们 笑迎冰雪。第一集

Opportunity

机会

The air we breathe is so freely available that we take it for granted. Yet without

it we could not survive more than a few minutes. For the most part, the same air is

available

to

everyone,

and

everyone

needs

it.

Some

people

use

the

air

to

sustain

them

while they sit around and feel sorry for themselves. Others breathe in the air and

use the energy it provides to make a magnificent life for themselves.

Opportunity is the same way. It is everywhere. Opportunity is so freely available

that

we

take

it

for

granted.

Yet

opportunity

alone

is

not

enough

to

create

success.

Opportunity

must

be

seized

and

acted

upon

in

order

to

have

value.

So

many

people

are

so anxious to

do all the work. That's impossible.

Just

as

you

need

air

to

breathe,

you

need

opportunity

to

succeed.

It

takes

more

than

just breathing in the fresh air of opportunity, however. You must make use of that

opportunity. That's not up to the opportunity. That's up to you. It doesn't matter

what

空气到处都有，我们是如 此容易得到它，以至我们常将其易得性视为理所当然。可一旦失去

它，我们只能活几分钟 。基本上，谁都能呼吸到空气，谁都需要空气。有的人呼吸空气只为

碌碌无为地生活着， 或是在懊悔中度过余生。有的人呼吸空气并利用它提供的能量使自己的

生活绚丽多彩。< /p>

机会也是如此。机会无处不在。机会 如此易得以至我们对此视为理所当然。然而只有机会并

不能获得成功，而必须抓住机会， 见机行事，创造佳绩。许多人都渴望能夺得先机，似乎只

要夺得先机就能万事大吉。这是 不可能的。

正如你需要呼吸空气一 样，

你需要机会才能成功。

然而成功靠的并不仅仅是随手可得的 机会。

你必须利用机会。成功并不取决于机会，而是取决于你。重要的并不是你在哪一个 阶段遇见

机会，而是面对机会你是如何把握的。

第二集

The furthest distance in the world

世界上最遥远的距离

The furthest distance in the world

Is not between life and death

But when I stand in front of you

Yet you don't know that I love you

The furthest distance in the world

Is not when I stand in front of you

Yet you can't see my love

But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both

Yet cannot be together

The furthest distance in the world

Is not being apart while being in love

But when painly cannot resist the yearning

Yet pretending you have never been in my heart

The furthest distance in the world

Is not when painly cannot resist the yearning

Yet pretending you have never been in my heart

But using one's indifferent heart

To dig an uncrossable river

For the one who loves you

世界上最遥远的距离

不是生与死

而是

我就站在你面前

你却不知道我爱你

世界上最遥远的距离

不是

我就站在你面前

你却不知道我爱你

而是

明明知道彼此相爱

却不能在一起

世界上最遥远的距离

不是

明明知道彼此相爱

却不能在一起

而是

明明无法抵挡这股思念

却还得故意装作丝毫没有把你放在心里

世界上最遥远的距离

不是明明无法抵挡这股思念

却还要故意装作丝毫没有把你放在心里

而是

用自己冷漠的心对爱你的人

掘了一条无法跨越的沟渠

第三集

Write Your Own Life

书写你的生命

Suppose someone gave you a pen

—

a sealed, solid-colored pen.

You couldn't see how much ink it had.

It

might

run

dry

after

the

first

few

tentative

words

or

last

just

long

enough

to

create

a

masterpiece

(or

several)

that

would

last

forever

and

make

a

difference

in

the

scheme

of things.

You don't know before you begin.

Under the rules of the game, you really never know.

You have to take a chance!

Actually,

no

rule

of

the

game

states

you

must

do

anything.

Instead

of

picking

up

and

using the pen, you could leave it on a shelf or in a drawer where it will dry up,

unused.

But if you do decide to use it, what would you do with it? How would you play the

game?

Would you plan and plan before you ever wrote a word?

Would your plans be so extensive that you never even got to the writing?

Or

would

you

take

the

pen

in

hand,

plunge

right

in

and

just

do

it,

struggling

to

keep

up with the twists and turns of the torrents of words that take you where they take

you?

Would

you

write

cautiously

and

carefully,

as

if

the

pen

might

run

dry

the

next

moment,

or

would

you

pretend

or

believe

(or

pretend

to

believe)

that

the

pen

will

write

forever

and proceed accordingly?

And of what would you write: Of love? Hate? Fun? Misery? Life? Death? Nothing?

Everything?

Would

you

write

to

please

just

yourself?

Or

others?

Or

yourself

by

writing

for

others?

Would your strokes be tremblingly timid or brilliantly bold? Fancy with a flourish

or plain?

Would you even write? Once you have the pen, no rule says you have to write. Would

you sketch? Scribble? Doodle or draw?

Would you stay in or on the lines, or see no lines at all, even if they were there?

Or are they? There's a lot to think about here, isn't there?

Now, suppose someone gave you a life...