摘抄英语优质文章

经典美文是中华民族文化的精粹,凝聚着前人的智慧、蕴含着丰富的情感、营造着优美的意境。本文是有关于优秀英语美文，希望对大家有帮助!

I think that, from a biological standpoint, human life almost reads like a poem. It has its own rhythm and beat, its internal cycles of growth and decay. It begins with innocent childhood, followed by awkward adolescence trying awkwardly to adapt itself to mature society, with its young passions and follies, its ideals and ambitions; then it reaches a manhood of intense activities, profiting from experience and learning more about society and human nature; at middle age, there is a slight easing of tension, a mellowing of character like the ripening of fruit or the mellowing of good wine, and the gradual acquiring of a more tolerant, more cynical and at the same time a kindlier view of life; then In the sunset of our life, the endocrine glands decrease their activity, and if we have a true philosophy of old age and have ordered our life pattern according to it, it is for us the age of peace and security and leisure and contentment; finally, life flickers out and one goes into eternal sleep, never to wake up again.

One should be able to sense the beauty of this rhythm of life, to appreciate, as we do in grand symphonies, its main theme, its strains of conflict and the final resolution. The movements of these cycles are very much the same in a normal life, but the music must be provided by the individual himself. In some souls, the discordant note becomes harsher and harsher and finally overwhelms or submerges the main melody. Sometimes the discordant note gains so much power that the music can no longer go on, and the individual shoots himself with a pistol or jump into a river. But that is because his original leitmotif has been hopelessly over-showed through the lack of a good self-education. Otherwise the normal human life runs to its normal end in kind of dignified movement and procession. There are sometimes in many of us too many staccatos or impetuosos, and because the tempo is wrong, the music is not pleasing to the ear; we might have more of the grand rhythm and majestic tempo o the Ganges, flowing slowly and eternally into the sea.

No one can say that life with childhood, manhood and old age is not a beautiful arrangement; the day has its morning, noon and sunset, and the year has its seasons, and it is good that it is so. There is no good or bad in life, except what is good according to its own season. And if we take this biological view of life and try to live according to the seasons, no one but a conceited fool or an impossible idealist can deny that human life can be lived like a poem. Shakespeare has expressed this idea more graphically in his passage about the seven stages of life, and a good many Chinese writers have said about the same thing. It is curious that Shakespeare was never very religious, or very much concerned with religion. I think this was his greatness; he took human life largely as it was, and intruded himself as little upon the general scheme of things as he did upon the characters of his plays. Shakespeare was like Nature itself, and that is the greatest compliment we can pay to a writer or thinker. He merely lived, observed life and went away.

I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the field or the woods all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he cannot sit down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where he can :see the folks,:” and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate himself for his day’s solitude; and hence he wonders how the student can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui and :the blues:; but he does not realize that the student, though in the house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society that the latter does, though it may be a more condensed form of it.

Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are. We have had to agree on a certain set of rules, called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; we live thick and are in each other’s way, and stumble over one another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty communications. Consider the girls in a factory---never alone, hardly in their dreams. It would be better if there were but one inhabitant to a square mile, as where I live. The value of a man is not in his skin, that we should touch him.

I have a great deal of company in my house; especially in the morning, when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons, that some one may convey an idea of my situation. I am no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden Pond itself. What company has that lonely lake, I pray?

And yet it has not the blue devils, but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint of its waters. The sun is alone, except in thick weather, when there sometimes appear to be two, but one is a mock sun. god is alone---but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a bumblebee. I am no more lonely than the Millbrook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first spider in a new house.

Have you thought about what you want people to say about you after you’re gone? Can you hear the voice saying, “He was a great man.” Or “She really will be missed.” What else do they say?

One of the strangest phenomena of life is to engage in a work that will last long after death. Isn’t that a lot like investing all your money so that future generations can bare interest on it? Perhaps, yet if you look deep in your own heart, you’ll find something drives you to make this kind of contribution---something drives every human being to find a purpose that lives on after death.

Do you hope to memorialize your name? Have a name that is whispered with reverent awe? Do you hope to have your face carved upon 50 ft of granite rock? Is the answer really that simple? Is the purpose of lifetime contribution an ego-driven desire for a mortal being to have an immortal name or is it something more?

A child alive today will die tomorrow. A baby that had the potential to be the next Einstein will die from complication is at birth. The circumstances of life are not set in stone. We are not all meant to live life through to old age. We’ve grown to perceive life3 as a full cycle with a certain number of years in between. If all of those years aren’t lived out, it’s a tragedy. A tragedy because a human’s potential was never realized. A tragedy because a spark was snuffed out before it ever became a flame.

By virtue of inhabiting a body we accept these risks. We expose our mortal flesh to the laws of the physical environment around us. The trade off isn’t so bad when you think about it. The problem comes when we construct mortal fantasies of what life should be like. When life doesn’t conform to our fantasy we grow upset, frustrated, or depressed.

We are alive; let us live. We have the ability to experience; let us experience. We have the ability to learn; let us learn. The meaning of life can be grasped in a moment. A moment so brief it often evades our perception.

What meaning stands behind the dramatic unfolding of life? What single truth can we grasp and hang onto for dear life when all other truths around us seem to fade with time?

These moments are strung together in a series we call events. These events are strung together in a series we call life. When we seize the moment and bend it according to our will, a will driven by the spirit deep inside us, then we have discovered the meaning of life, a meaning for us that shall go on long after we depart this Earth.

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.