2023-07-21 16:33:06来源：魔方格
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经典美文与英语写作是两项相对独立但又相互依赖、相辅相成的关系,这一结论对写作教学有很大启发。下面是七考网小编带来的适合大学四级的英语美文，欢迎阅读!
A letter to my son
Dear Seth,
You’re only three years old, and at this point in your life you can"t read, much less understand what I’m going to try to tell you in this letter. But I"ve been thinking a lot about the life that you have ahead of you, about my life so far as I reflect on what I"ve learned, and about my role as a dad in trying to prepare you for the trials that you will face in the coming years.
You won"t be able to understand this letter today, but someday, when you"re ready, I hope you will find some wisdom and value in what I share with you.
You are young, and life has yet to take its toll on you, to throw disappointments and heartaches and loneliness and struggles and pain into your path. You have not been worn down yet by long hours of thankless work, by the slings and arrows of everyday life.
For this, be thankful. You are at a wonderful stage of life. You have many wonderful stages of life still to come, but they are not without their costs and perils.
I hope to help you along your path by sharing some of the best of what I"ve learned. As with any advice, take it with a grain of salt. What works for me might not work for you.
Life Can Be Cruel
There will be people in your life who won"t be very nice. They"ll tease you because you"re different, or for no good reason. They might try to bully you or hurt you.
There"s not much you can do about these people except to learn to deal with them, and learn to choose friends who are kind to you, who actually care about you, who make you feel good about yourself. When you find friends like this, hold on to them, treasure them, spend time with them, be kind to them, love them.
There will be times when you are met with disappointment instead of success. Life won"t always turn out the way you want. This is just another thing you"ll have to learn to deal with. But instead of letting these things get you down, push on. Accept disappointment and learn to persevere, to pursue your dreams despite pitfalls. Learn to turn negatives into positives, and you"ll do much better in life.
You will also face heartbreak and abandonment by those you love. I hope you don"t have to face this too much, but it happens. Again, not much you can do but to heal, and to move on with your life. Let these pains become stepping stones to better things in life, and learn to use them to make you stronger.
But Be Open to life Anyway
Yes, you"ll find cruelty and suffering in your journey through life … but don"t let that close you to new things. Don"t retreat from life, don"t hide or wall yourself off. Be open to new things, new experiences, new people.
You might get your heart broken 10 times, but find the most wonderful woman the 11th time. If you shut yourself off from love, you"ll miss out on that woman, and the happiest times of your life.
You might get teased and bullied and hurt by people you meet … and then after meeting dozens of jerks, find a true friend. If you close yourself off to new people, and don"t open your heart to them, you"ll avoid pain … but also lose out on meeting some incredible people, who will be there during the toughest times of your life and create some of the best times of your life.
You will fail many times but if you allow that to stop you from trying, you will miss out on the amazing feeling of success once you reach new heights with your accomplishments. Failure is a stepping stone to success.
Life Isn"t a Competition
You will meet many people who will try to outdo you, in school, in college, at work. They"ll try to have nicer cars, bigger houses, nicer clothes, cooler gadgets. To them, life is a competition — they have to do better than their peers to be happy.
Here"s a secret: Life isn"t a competition. It"s a journey. If you spend that journey always trying to impress others, to outdo others, you’re wasting your journey. Instead, learn to enjoy the journey. Make it a journey of Happiness, of constant learning, of continual improvement, of love.
Don"t worry about having a nicer car or house or anything material, or even a better-paying job. None of that matters a whit, and none of it will make you happier. You"ll acquire these things and then only want more. Instead, learn to be satisfied with having enough — and then use the time you would have wasted trying to earn money to buy those things … use that time doing things you love.
Find your passion, and pursue it doggedly. Don"t settle for a job that pays the bills. Life is too short to waste on a job you hate.
Love Should Be Your Rule
If there"s a single word you should live your life by, it should be this: Love. It might sound corny, I know … but trust me, there"s no better rule in life.
Some would live by the rule of success. Their lives will be stressful, unhappy and shallow.
Others would live by the rule of selfishness — putting their needs above those of others. They will live lonely lives, and will also be unhappy.
Still others will live by the rule of righteousness — trying to show the right path, and admonishing anyone who doesn"t live by that path. They are concerned with others, but in a negative way, and in the end will only have their own righteousness to live with, and that"s a horrible companion.
Live your life by the rule of love. Love your spouse, your children, your parents, your friends, with all of your heart. Give to them what they need, and show them not cruelty nor disapproval nor coldness nor disappointment, but only love. Open your soul to them.
Love not only your loved ones, but your neighbors … your coworkers … strangers … your brothers and sisters in humanity. Offer anyone you meet a smile, a kind word, a kind gesture, a helping hand.
Love not only neighbors and strangers … but your enemy. The person who is cruelest to you, who has been unkind to you … love him. He is a tortured soul, and most in need of your love.
And most of all, love yourself. While others may criticize you, learn not to be so hard on yourself, to think that you’re ugly or dumb or unworthy of love … but to think instead that you are a wonderful human being, worthy of Happiness and love … and learn to love yourself for who you are.
Finally, know that I love you and always will. You are starting out on a weird, scary, daunting, but ultimately incredibly wonderful journey, and I will be there for you when I can. Godspeed.
Love, Your Dad
Forgotten and Forgiven
As I sat perched in the second-floor window of our brick schoolhouse that afternoon, my heart began to sink further with each passing car. This was a day I"d looked forward to for weeks: Miss Pace"s fourth-grade, end-of-the-year party. Miss Pace had kept a running countdown on the blackboard all that week, and our class of nine-year-olds had bordered on insurrection by the time the much-anticipated "party Friday" had arrived.
I had happily volunteered my mother when Miss Pace requested cookie volunteers. Mom"s chocolate chips reigned supreme on our block, and I knew they"d be a hit with my classmates. But two o"clock passed, and there was no sign of her. Most of the other mothers had already come and gone, dropping off their offerings of punch andcrackers, chips, cupcakes and brownies. My mother was missing in action.
"Don"t worry, Robbie, she"ll be along soon," Miss Pace said as I gazed forlornly down at the street. I looked at the wall clock just in time to see its black minute hand shift to half-past.
Around me, the noisy party raged on, but I wouldn"t budge from my window watch post. Miss Pace did her best to coax me away, but I stayed put, holding out hope that the familiar family car would round the corner, carrying my rightfully embarrassed mother with a tin of her famous cookies tucked under her arm.
The three o"clock bell soon jolted me from my thoughts and I dejectedly grabbed my book bag from my desk and shuffled out the door for home.
On the four-block walk to our house, I plotted my revenge. I would slam the front door upon entering, refuse to return her hug when she rushed over to me, and vow never to speak to her again.
The house was empty when I arrived and I looked for a note on the refrigerator that might explain my mother"s absence, but found none. My chin quivered with a mixture of heartbreak and rage. For the first time in my life, my mother had let me down.
I was lying face-down on my bed upstairs when I heard her come through the front door.
"Robbie," she called out a bit urgently. "Where are you?"
I could then hear her darting frantically from room to room, wondering where I could be. I remained silent. In a moment, she mounted the steps—the sounds of her footsteps quickening as she ascended the staircase.
When she entered my room and sat beside me on my bed, I didn"t move but instead stared blankly into my pillow refusing to acknowledge her presence.
"I"m so sorry, honey," she said. "I just forgot. I got busy and forgot—plain and simple."
I still didn"t move. "Don"t forgive her," I told myself. "She humiliated you. She forgot you. Make her pay."
Then my mother did something completely unexpected. She began to laugh. I could feel her shudder as the laughter shook her. It began quietly at first and then increased in its velocity and volume.
I was incredulous. How could she laugh at a time like this? I rolled over and faced her, ready to let her see the rage and disappointment in my eyes.
But my mother wasn"t laughing at all. She was crying. "I"m so sorry," she sobbed softly. "I let you down. I let my little boy down."
She sank down on the bed and began to weep like a little girl. I was dumbstruck. I had never seen my mother cry. To my understanding, mothers weren"t supposed to. I wondered if this was how I looked to her when I cried.
I desperately tried to recall her own soothing words from times past when I"d skinned knees or stubbed toes, times when she knew just the right thing to say. But in that moment of tearful plight, words of profundity abandoned me like a worn-out shoe.
"It"s okay, Mom," I stammered as I reached out and gently stroked her hair. "We didn"t even need those cookies. There was plenty of stuff to eat. Don"t cry. It"s all right. Really."
My words, as inadequate as they sounded to me, prompted my mother to sit up. She wiped her eyes, and a slight smile began to crease her tear-stained cheeks. I smiled back awkwardly, and she pulled me to her.
We didn"t say another word. We just held each other in a long, silent embrace. When we came to the point where I would usually pull away, I decided that, this time, I could hold on, perhaps, just a little bit longer.
visit with a tramp
I was swinging on the front gate, trying to decide whether to walk down the street to play with Verna, my best friend in fifth grade, when I saw a tramp come up the road.
"Hello, little girl," he said. "Is your mama at home?"
I nodded and swung the gate open to let him in the yard. He looked like all the tramps who came to our house from the hobo camp by the river during the Great Depression. His shaggy hair hung below a shapeless hat, and his treadbare shirt and trousers had been rained on and slept in. He smelled like a bonfire.
He shuffled to the door. When my mother appeared, he asked,"Lady, could you spare a bite to eat?"
"I think so. Please sit on the step."
He dropped onto the narrow wooden platform that served as the front porch of our two-room frame house. In minutes my mother opened the screen and handed him a sandwich made from thick slices of homemde bread and generous chunks of boiled meat. She gave him a tin cup of milk." I thank you ,lady," he said.
I swung on the gate, watching the tramp wolf down the sandwich and drain the cup. Then he stood and walked back through the gate."They said your mama would feed me," he told me on the way out.
Verna had said the hobos told one another who would feed them."They never come to my house," she had announced proudly.
So why does Mama feed them? I wondered. A window, she worked as a waitress in the mornings and sewed at nights to earn money. Why should she give anythingto men who didn"t work at all?
I marched inside."Verna"s mother says those men are too lazy to work. Why do we feed them?
My mother smiled. Her blue housedress matched her eyes and emphasized her auburn hair.
"Lovely, we don"t know why those men don"t work," she said." But they were babies once. And their mothers loved them, like I love you." She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me close to her apron, which smelled of starch and freshly baked bread.
"I feed them for their mothers, because if you were ever hungry and had nothing to eat, I would want their mothers to feed you."
What have you gained from the story?
