關(guān)于英語(yǔ)優(yōu)秀文章閱讀
英語(yǔ)散文的翻譯,最難的不是語(yǔ)言的翻譯,而是如何傳遞原文所給人的感覺和神韻。下面是學(xué)習(xí)啦小編帶來的關(guān)于英語(yǔ)優(yōu)秀文章閱讀，歡迎閱讀!
關(guān)于英語(yǔ)優(yōu)秀文章閱讀篇一
Alienation and the Internet (網(wǎng)絡(luò)，你“離間”了人群?)
The Internet provides an amazing forum for the free exchange of ideas. Given the relatively few restrictions governing access and usage，it is the communications modal equivalent of international waters.1 It is my personal belief that the human potential can only be realized by the globalization of ideas. I developed this position2 years before the Internet came into wide spread use. And I am excited at the potential for the Internet to dramatically alter our global society for the better. However I am also troubled by the possible unintended negative consequences.
There has been much talk about the“new information age.”But much less widely reported has been the notion that the Internet may be responsible for furthering the fragmentation of society by alienating its individual users.3 At first this might sound like an apparent contradiction：how can something，that is on the one hand responsible for global unification by enabling the free exchange of ideas，alienate the participants?
I had a recent discussion with a friend of mine who has what he described as a“problem”with the Internet. When I questioned him further he said that he was“addicted，”4 and has“forced”himself to go off-line. He said that he felt like an alcoholic，in that moderate use of the Internet was just not possible for him.5 I have not known this fellow to be given to exaggeration，therefore when he described his internet binges，6 when he would spend over twenty-four hours on line non-stop，it gave me pause to think. He said，“the Internet isn‘t real，but I was spending all my time on line，so I just had to stop.”He went on to say that all of the time that he spent on line might have skewed7 his sense of reality，and that it made him feel lonely and depressed.
The fragmentation of society has been lamented for some time now. It seems to me that it probably began in earnest after World War II when a generation returned from doing great deeds overseas. They won the war，and by God they were going to win the peace. Automobile ownership became commonplace and suburbs were created.“Progress”was their mantra.8 So even prior to the Internet‘s widespread popularity，folks were already becoming distanced from their extended families and neighbors. And when we fast-forward to today we see an almost cruel irony in that people can and often do develop on-line relationships with folks on the other side of the globe，without leaving their homes. But at the expense of the time that would have otherwise been available for involvement in other activities which might foster a sense of community in their villages，towns and cities.
Last weekend my wife and I invited our extended family to our home to celebrate our daughter‘s birthday. During the celebration my young nephew spent the entire time on my computer playing a simulated war game. My brother-in-law and I were chatting near by and it struck us that in generations past，his son，my nephew，would have been outside playing with his friends. But now the little fellow goes on line to play his games against his friends in cyberspace.
It seems to me that the Internet is a powerful tool that presents an opportunity for the advancement of the acquisition and application of knowledge. However，based on my personal experience I can understand how，as they surf the web some folks might be confronted with cognitive overload.9 And I can also understand how one might have his or her sense of reality distorted in the process. Is the Internet a real place?Depending upon how a“real place”is defined it might very well be. At the very least，I believe that when we use the Internet，we are forced to ask fundamental questions about how we perceive the world about us—perhaps another unintended consequence. Some would argue that the virtual existences created by some users who debate，shop，travel and have romance on line are in fact not real. While others would argue that，since in practical terms，folks are debating，shopping，travelling and having romance，the converse is true.
All of this being said，I believe that the key to realizing the potential of the Internet is in achieving balance in our lives. This would allow us to maximize its potential without losing our sense of place.10 However like most things that is easier said than done. It seems to me that we are a society that values immediate gratification above all else，and what better place to achieve it than in cyberspace，where the cyber-world is your cyber-oyster.11 The widespread use of the automobile forever changed our society and culture，and perhaps a similar sort of thing is occurring now. I am not at all certain where the“information superhighway”will lead us：some say to Utopia，12 while others feel it‘s the road to hell. But I do know that we all have the ability to maintain our sense of place in the world. Whether we choose to take advantage of this ability is another matter.
關(guān)于英語(yǔ)優(yōu)秀文章閱讀篇二
You! 生命掌握在你的手里——超越卓越的你
Consider…YOU. In all time before now and in all time to come，there has never been and will never be anyone just like you. You are unique in the entire history and future of the universe. Wow!Stop and think about that. You‘re better than one in a million，or a billion，or a gazillion…
You are the only one like you in a sea of infinity!
You‘re amazing!You’re awesome!And by the way，TAG，you‘re it. As amazing and awesome as you already are，you can be even more so. Beautiful young people are the whimsey of nature，but beautiful old people are true works of art. But you don’t become“beautiful”just by virtue of the aging process.
Real beauty comes from learning，growing，and loving in the ways of life. That is the Art of Life. You can learn slowly，and sometimes painfully，by just waiting for life to happen to you. Or you can choose to accelerate your growth and intentionally devour life and all it offers. You are the artist that paints your future with the brush of today.
Paint a Masterpiece.
God gives every bird its food，but he doesn‘t throw it into its nest. Wherever you want to go，whatever you want to do，it’s truly up to you.
試想一下……你!一個(gè)空前絕后的你，不論是以往還是將來都不會(huì)有一個(gè)跟你一模一樣的人。你在歷史上和宇宙中都是獨(dú)一無二的。哇!想想吧，你是萬(wàn)里挑一、億里挑一、兆里挑一的。
在無窮無盡的宇宙中，你是舉世無雙的。
你是了不起的!你是卓越的!沒錯(cuò)，就是你。你已經(jīng)是了不起的，是卓越的，你還可以更卓越更了不起。美麗的年輕人是大自然的奇想，而美麗的老人卻是藝術(shù)的杰作。但你不會(huì)因?yàn)槟挲g的漸長(zhǎng)就自然而然地變得“美麗”。
真正的美麗源于生命里的學(xué)習(xí)、成長(zhǎng)和熱愛。這就是生命的藝術(shù)。你可以只聽天由命，慢慢地學(xué)，有時(shí)候或許會(huì)很痛苦。又或許你可以選擇加速自己的成長(zhǎng)，故意地?fù)]霍生活及其提供的一切。你就是手握今日之刷描繪自己未來的藝術(shù)家。
畫出一幅杰作吧。
上帝給了鳥兒食物，但他沒有將食物扔到它們的巢里。不管你想要去哪里，不管你想要做什么，真正做決定的還是你自己。
關(guān)于英語(yǔ)優(yōu)秀文章閱讀篇三
The Blanket (一床雙人毛毯)
Floyd Dell，born June 28，1887，Barry，Ill.，U.S. died July 23，1969，Bethesda，Md. novelist and radical journalist whose fiction examined the changing mores in sex and politics among American bohemians before and after World War I. A precocious poet，Dell grew up in an impoverished family and left high school at age 16 to work in a factory. Moving to Chicago in 1908，he worked as a newspaperman and soon was a leader of the city‘s advanced literary movement. He became assistant editor of the Friday Literary Review of the Evening Post in 1909 and editor in 1911，making it one of the most noted American literary supplements. As a critic，he furthered the careers of Sherwood Anderson and Theodore Dreiser. A socialist since his youth，he moved to New York in 1914 and was associate editor of the left-wing The Masses until 1917. Dell was on the staff of The Liberator，which succeeded The Masses，from 1918 to 1924. His first and best novel，the largely autobiographical Moon-Calf，appeared in 1920，and its sequel，The Briary-Bush，in 1921. Homecoming，an autobiography taking him to his 35th year，was published in 1933. His other novels on life among the unconventional include Janet March(1923)，Runaway(1925)，and Love in Greenwich Village(1926)。His nonfiction includes Were You Ever a Child?(1919)，on child-rearing;the biography Upton Sinclair：A Study in Social Protest(1927);and Love in the Machine Age(1930)，which presented his views on sex. Little Accident，a play written with Thomas Mitchell and based on Dell’s novel An Unmarried Father(1927)，was successfully produced in 1928. Dell joined the Federal Writers Project and moved to Washington，D.C.，in the late 1930s as an official for the project. He continued in government work after the project ended，until his retirement in 1947.
Petey hadn‘t really believed that Dad would be doing It—sending Granddad away.“Away”was what they were calling it.Not until now could he believe it of his father.
But here was the blanket that Dad had bought for Granddad，and in the morning he‘d be going away. This was the last evening they’d be having together. Dad was off seeing that girl he was to marry. He would not be back till late，so Petey and Granddad could sit up and talk.
It was a fine September night，with a silver moon riding high. They washed up the supper dishes and then took their chairs out onto the porch.“I‘ll get my fiddle，”said the old man，“and play you some of the old tunes.”
But instead of the fiddle he brought out the blanket. It was a big double blanket，red with black stripes.“Now，isn‘t that a fine blanket!”said the old man，smoothing it over his knees.“And isn’t your father a kind man to be giving the old fellow a blanket like that to go away with?It cost something，it did—look at the wool of it!There‘ll be few blankets there the equal of this one!”
It was like Granddad to be saying that. He was trying to make it easier. He had pretended all along that he wanted to go away to the great brick building—the government place. There he‘d be with so many other old fellows，having the best of everything. . . . But Petey hadn’t believed Dad would really do it，not until this night when he brought home the blanket.
“Oh，yes，it‘s a fine blanket，”said Petey. He got up and went into the house. He wasn’t the kind to cry and，besides，he was too old for that. He‘d just gone in to fetch Granddad’s fiddle.
The blanket slid to the floor as the old man took the fiddle and stood up. He tuned up for a minute，and then said，“This is one you‘ll like to remember.”
Petey sat and looked out over the gully. Dad would marry that girl. Yes，that girl who had kissed Petey and fussed over him，saying she‘d try to be a good mother to him，and all. . . .
The tune stopped suddenly. Granddad said，“It‘s a fine girl your father’s going to marry. He‘ll be feeling young again with a pretty wife like that. And what would an old fellow like me be doing around their house，getting in the way?An old nuisance，what with my talks of aches and pains. It’s best that I go away，like I‘m doing. One more tune or two，and then we’ll be going to sleep. I‘ll pack up my blanket in the morning.”
They didn‘t hear the two people coming down the path. Dad had one arm around the girl，whose bright face was like a doll’s. But they heard her when she laughed，right close by the porch. Dad didn‘t say anything，but the girl came forward and spoke to Granddad prettily：“I won’t be here when you leave in the morning，so I came over to say good-bye.”
“It‘s kind of you，”said Granddad，with his eyes cast down. Then，seeing the blanket at his feet，he stooped to pick it up.“And will you look at this，”he said.“The fine blanket my son has given me to go away with.”
“Yes，”she said.“It‘s a fine blanket.”She felt the wool and repeated in surprise，“A fine blanket—I’ll say it is!”She turned to Dad and said to him coldly，“That blanket really cost something.”
Dad cleared his throat and said，“I wanted him to have the best. . . .”
“It‘s double，too，”she said，as if accusing Dad.
“Yes，”said Granddad，“it‘s double—a fine blanket for an old fellow to be going away with.”
17 The boy went suddenly into the house. He was looking for something. He could hear that girl scolding Dad. She realized how much of Dad‘s money—her money，really—had gone for the blanket. Dad became angry in his slow way. And now she was suddenly going away in a huff. . . .
As Petey came out，she turned and called back，“All the same，he doesn‘t need a double blanket!”And she ran off up the path.
Dad was looking after her as if he wasn‘t sure what he ought to do.
“Oh，she‘s right，”Petey said.“Here，Dad”—and he held out a pair of scissors.“Cut the blanket in two.”
Both of them stared at the boy，startled.“Cut it in two，I tell you，Dad!”he cried out.“And keep the other half.”
“That‘s not a bad idea，”said Granddad gently.“I don’t need so much of a blanket.”
“Yes，”the boy said harshly，“a single blanket‘s enough for an old man when he’s sent away. We‘ll save the other half，Dad. It’ll come in handy later.”
“Now what do you mean by that?”asked Dad.
“I mean，”said the boy slowly，“that I‘ll give it to you，Dad—when you’re old and I‘m sending you—away.”
There was a silence. Then Dad went over to Granddad and stood before him，not speaking. But Granddad understood. He put out a hand and laid it on Dad‘s shoulder. And he heard Granddad whisper，“It’s all right，son. I knew you didn‘t mean it. . . .”And then Petey cried.
But it didn‘t matter—because they were all crying together.
Floyd Dell
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