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楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-05-23 01:24:50
  汤姆索耶历险记 The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
  Saturday morning came.All the summer world was bright and fresh and full of life.
  Tom appeared in front of the house with paint and a big brush.He looked at the fence,and all joy left him.A deep sadness settled upon his heart.The fence was long and high.
  He wet the brush and moved it along the top board .He did it again.He looked at what he had done.The painted part was very ,very small .The whole fence was very large .He sat down.He felt that he could not continue.
  Jim,a boywho worked for the family,came through the gate .He waws going to get water,and he was singing happily
  Tom said,"Jim,I will get the water ,if you will paint."
  Jim said,"No ,I must get the water."
  "Are you afraid of Aunt Polly?She won't hurt you.She talks about it ,but talk never hurts.It never hurts except when she weeps ,also.You should not be afraid of her.Jim,I'll give you one of my playthings.And I will show you my foot.I will show you where I hurt it."
  Jim was only humman.He took the plaything and he put his head down to look at the foot.
  In another moment he was running .Tom was painting as fast as possible .And Aunt Polly was returning to the house.
  But Tom began to think of the plwasure planned for this day.His hands moved more slowly.Soon the other boys would come and laugh at him for working.Front his pocket he took everything that he owned.He looked at it .There was nothing of real value.It was not enough to buy another boy's help.
  At this dark moment,a wonderful idea came to him.It was like a great ,bright light.
  he took his brush and went quietly to work.
  Ben Rogers appeared soon.Tom had been especially afraid of Ben's laugh.
  Ben was eating an apple.Also as he talked ,he was making noises like those of a big riverboat.He would shout loudly.Then he would say,"Ding-dong-dong,"like a bell.Then he would shout again ,and say,"Ding-dong-dong,"again ,and make other strange noises.He was the boat,and he was the captain of the boat,and the boat bell.
  "Turn her!"he shouted."slow her !Stop!"He made a slow,careful turn,came close beside Tom ,and stopped.
  Tom continued his painting.He did not look at the boat.
  Ben said,"Hello!You are in trouble."
  No answer,Tom moved his brush gently,and looked at the result.Ben came nearer.Tom wished for the apple ,but he did not turn from his work .Ben said:
  "Hello,you must work,must you?"
  Tom turned suddenly."Oh ,Ben ,is it you?I did not see you."
  "I'm going swimming ,I am .Do you wish you could go with me ?or would you rather work?"
  Tom said,"waht do you mean?Work?"
  "That is work."
  tom returned to his painiting."It may be work and it may not be.But it is fine for Tom Sawyer."
  "Do you mean tha you enjoy it?"
  "Enjoy it ?Does a boy have a chance to paint a fence every day?"
  Here was a new idea.Ben stopped eating his apple.tom moved his brush-stepped away to look at the result -added a little paint here and there -stepped away agai.Ben watched.He was more and more interested.Then he said:
  "Tom,let me paint a littel."
  Tom thought .Then he said,"No,Ben .Aunt Polly wants this fence to be perfect If it was the fence behind the house ,you could help.but this fence,beside the street,must be done very carefuly.There is not one boy in a thousand who can do it well."
  "Oh,tom ,let me try.Only a little.I wil be careful.Tom,I will give you part of my apple."
  "No ,Ben.I am afraid-"
  "I'll give you all of it!"
  Tom gave the brush to Ben slowly,but with joy in his heart.And ,while the boy who a few moments befor had been a riverboat worker and became hot in the sun,Tom sat under the tree,eating the apple and planning how to get more help.There were enough boys.They camealong the street,stopped to laugh,but remained to paint.After Ben ,Bill fisher painted.then Johnny Miller came.Each one paid to be allowed to work.In the middle of the afternoon ,Tom was very rich.He had many playthings,a small cat with one eye,a piece of broken blue glass,and much more.
  And he had not worked,and the whole fence had been painted three times.There was no more paint.with more paint,Tom would soon have owned everything belonging to the other boys.And the other boys in the village would have owned nothing.
  Tom had discovered a great law of human action.A man or a boy will desire something if it is not easy to get
作者:Jaiwo 时间:2009-05-23 01:30:12
  oh ,my dear !
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-05-28 16:03:32
  戴安娜的健身俱乐部 Diana'sGym...and Tonic
  The Chelsea Harbour Club,the name of princess Diana's fitness centre,conjures up a world of wealth,sophistication and glamour.It also is a place to find romance.
  The last two men linked to the Princess-England rugb captain Will Carling and property developer Christopher Whalley-both met her there .For diana,it is one of the few sanctuaries where she can escape,mix with new friends and be herself.It is almost the only place she can meet people on her level,see them regularly and put some stability and sense of belonging into her confused life.
  No one is sure whether Will Carling or Christopher Whalley were friends or something more romantic.But without a meeting place such as the gym,Diana would find it almost impossible to form any new relationship.
  walking from the drab streets in a run-down part of West London near the Thames into the chic,softly lit surroundings of the club is like entering a different world.The car park is full of Merceds-Benz,BMWs and Jaguars.A security pass is needed to get through the imposing gates and electronic doors of the former power station building ,opened as a club three years ago.
  Once inside ,the affluence is immediately obvious.Women in their 30s and 40s are everywhere,looking stunning for their ages,with perfect figures,glowing complexions and immaculate hair.Their clothes ooze expense --leopard-skin patterns are ver popular on jackets,belts and tight-fitting jeans.
  There are 2,550 full members ,who have paid $5,000 each to join ,and 500 life members who have forked out $21,000 each to use the facilities.Officially,the club is full,but members can sell their rights if they leave.Even those who use the club only at certain times pay an entrance fee of $1,500 and an annual payment of $1,600.And ,of course ,every tennis lesson ,meal,beautytreatment or hire of courts is extra.
  As a friendly assistant called Amanda shows me around the club ,I ask about Diana.
  "We are all sworn to secrecy,but I feel really sorry for her,"she says."It is difficult for her to have anything ike a normal life."
  English singer Sinitta,one of the few black members ,recently revealed that she had dated Christopher Whalley ,and also met Diana at the club.
  "He and Diana were leaving one day just as I arrived ,"she explained."He just said,'Sinitta,this is Diana',and introduced me as his 'little friend',Diana thought that was really funny and began giggling.Since then,we have all met for coffee in the morning.She always says she would like to stay longer,but she has to get away for an engagement or something.We all call her the Princess at the club.We are crazy about her .She is the fittest woman here and an inspiration to us all."
  In fact ,it was Diana who made the first move to friendship with Christopher Whalley when she asked him,"What does a girl have to do to get a coffee around here?"as they met on the stairs .
  One member,who did not want to be named ,said,"There is no doubt that this place is a gotbed for romance and glamour.It is a heady mixture of wealth and beauty.When you have a good workout or game of tennis,you feel so relaxed and happy afterwards.You are on a natural high.Add in a couple of drinks at the bar and the fact that there are so many good-looking people here and one thing leads to another."
  "I have only seen the Princess a few times.But there is no doubt that she loves here ,especially the atmosphere.I think she likes to flirt and flatter like everyone else-it's all part of the fun."
  Even the club's managing director,Jonathon Hawkins,allows himself a wry smile about the goings-on ,joking,"I thought supermarkets were where people went looking for romance these days,not kealth clubs!"
  But in the maze of corridors,tracksuited divorcees arrange meetings with new loves on discreetly placed phones.
  Many women prefer an evening snack in the club's bar.It's then that the city bankers,top sportsmen and wealthy lawyers flook in after work .
  As the sportswear shop in the entrance hall sells yet another expensive tracksuit ,a Sloane Ranger wanders in from outside."I wa wondering if you had any menberships available?"she asks
  Was she joining to keep fit or find the man of her dreams?
作者:linlin6015 时间:2009-05-28 16:14:10
  1945年,一位非藉少女LATUALATUKA,乘坐一艘灰色小船由非洲漂到美国‧一位神秘男人杀死了她,而且在背脊割了 "LATUALATUKA"几个字母。一星期后, 这消息传到亚洲.现在你已看完这篇讯息, 她会在一星期后飘到你家中夺取你最重要的家人性命。解咒方法只有完成以下指示: 将此讯息贴在其他三个留言版的回应内
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-05-31 11:14:06
  Speech by British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher at the Signature Ceremony of the Joint Declaration on the Future of Hong Kong
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-05-31 15:32:08
  This is a historic occasion.And I particularly pleased to see that Chairman Deng Xiaoping is able to be present.The Joint Declaration on the furture of Hong Kong,which we have just signed on behalf of our two Governments,is a landmark in the life of the territory;in the course of anglo-Chinese relations;and in the history of international diplomacy.The Agreement establishes a firm basis for confidence in Hong Kong up to 1997 and beyond,and for its continued stability,prosperity and growth.
  I remember with pleasure my last visit to China in september 1982 and my discussions with Chinese leaders.At my meeting with Chairman Deng Xiaoping on that occasion we agreed to open talks on the future of Hong Kong .Our commen aim was to maintain the territory's stability and prosperity.It is in a spirit of pride and of optimism about the future that I now return to sign the agreement which is the result of those talks.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-06-17 18:13:03
  I think you will agree that the negotiations were not always easy.At certain points there were difficult decisions to be made on both sides.There were moments of tension.To overcome these difficulties we needed to draw on a shared fund of godwill;on friend ship; and on a common commitment to Hong Kong's future .This was what made success possible.I should like to pay tribute to the dedication of the two negotiating teams and all their supporting staff,under the guidance of Sir Geoffrey Howe and State Councillor and Foreign Minister Wu Xueqian.It is thanks to the imagination and resource which they showed that we can sign an agreement today.
  The Agreement fully meets the political requirements of Britain and China,as well as the interests of the Hong Kong people.It provides the framework in which ,as a Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China,Hong Kong will maintain its economic system and way of life for 50 years after the first of july 1997.It gives Hong Kong a high degree of autonomy;Hong Kong people will administer Hong Kong and the Special Administrative Region will pass its own legislation.It allows Hong Kong to continue to decide its own economic,financial and trade policies and to participate,as appropriate,in international organisations and agreements.It preserves Hong Kong's familiar legal system and the rights and freedoms enjoyed there.In short it provides the assurances for the future which Hong Kong needs ,in order to continue to play its unique role in the world as a trading and financial centre.
  I should like to pay a tribute to the leaders of China for the vision and farsightedness of their approach to the negotiations .The concept of "one country,two systems"-preserving two different political,social and economic systes within one nation has no precedent.It offers an imaginative response to the special historical circumstances of Hong Kong The concept is an example of how apparently intractable problems can ,and should be resolved.
  The Agreement is a basis on which the people of Hong Kong will build .They will bring to the task the energy,persistence and determination for which they are rightly famous throughout the world .I am confident that they will make Hong Kong an even more flourishing place than it is today.
  The negotiation itself has brought our countries closer together.It has increased our mutual understanding, respect and trust.I am convinced that as we work together in the future we shall be laying the foundation for an even closer and deeper relationship.That is good for the people of Hong Kong .
  We are privileged toda to take part with our Chinese friends in a unique occasion.The circumstances are unique,the Agreement is unique.It is right that we should feel a sense of history.of pride and o fconfidence in the future.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-06-22 00:21:05
  朋友 Friends ,Good Friends,and Such Good Friends
  Women are friends,I once would have said,when they totally love and support and trust each other ,and bare to each other the secrets of their souls ,and run-no questions asked-to help each other,and tell harsh truths to each other(no ,you can't wear that dress unless you lose ten pounds first )when harsh truths must be told.
  Women are friends,Ionce would have said ,when they share the same affection for Ingmar Bergman,plus train rides,cats,warm rain ,charades,Camus ,and hate with equal ardor Newark and Brussels sprouts and Lawrence Welk and camping.In othe words,I once would have said that a friend is a friend all the way ,but now I believe that's a narrow point of view.For the friendships I have and the friendships I see are conducted at many levels of intensity,serve many diffferet functions,meet different needs and range from those as all-the-way as the friendship of the soul sisters mentioned above to that of the most nonchalant and casual playmates.
  Consider these varieties of friendship:
  Convenience friends.These are the women with whom ,if our paths weren't crossing all the time,we'd have no particular reason to be friends:a next-door neighbor,a woman in our car pool,the mother of one of our children's closest friends or maybe some mommy with whom we serve juice and cookies each week at the Glenwood Co-op Nursery.
  Convenience friends are convenient indeed.They'll lends us their cups and silverware for a party.They'll drive our kids to soccer when we're sick.They'll even take our cats when we go on vacation.As we will for them.
  But we don't ,with convenience friends,ever come too close or tell too much;we maintain our public face and emotional distance ."Which means,"says Elaine,"that I'll admit being mad but not blind with rage.Which means that I might say that we're pinched this month but never that I'm worried sick over money."
  But which doesn't mean that there isn't sufficient value to be found in these friendships of mutual aid,in convenience friends.
  Specials-interest friends aren't intimate,and they needn't involve kids or silverware or cats .Their value lies in some interest jointly sharedd.And so we may have an office friend or a yoga friend or a tennis friend or a friend from the Women's Democratic Club .
  Historical friends .We all have a friend who knew us when ...maybe way back in Miss Meltzwer's second grade ,when ourfamily lived in that three-room flat in Brooklyn,when our brother Allie got in that fight where they had to call the police ,and when,the morning after we lost our virginity ,she was the first ,the only ,friend we told .
  The years have gone by and we've gone separate ways and we've little in common now,but we're still an intimate part of each other's past .And so whenever we go to Dtroit we always go to visit this friend of our girlhood.Who knows how we looked before our teeth were straightened.Who kknows how we talked before our voice got un-Brooklyned.Who knows what we ate before we learned about artichokes.And who ,by her presence,puts us in touch with an earlier part of ourselves,a part of ourselves it's important never to lose .
  Crossroads friends.Like historical friends,our crossroads friends are important for what was-for the friendship we shared at a crucial,now past,time of life.A time ,perhaps ,when we roomed in college together;or worked as eager young singles in the Big City together;or went together,as my friend Clizabeth and I did ,through pregnancy ,birth and that scary first year of new motherhood .Crossroads friends forge powerful links ,links strong enough to endure with not much more contact than once-a-year letters at Christmas .And out of respect for those crossroads years for those dramas and dreams we once shared,we will always be friends.
  Cross-generational friends.Historical and crossroads friends seem to maintain a special kind of intimacy-dormant but alwaysready to be revived-and though we may rarely meet,whenever we do connect ,its's personal and intense.Another kind of intimacy exists in the friendships that form across generations in what woman called her daughter-mother and her nother-daughter telationships.It's another very lovely kind of friendship.
  Part-of-a-couple friends.Some of the women we call our friends we never see alone-we see them as part of a couple at couple's parties.And though we share interests in Whatever the reason,a lack of time or -and this more likely-a lack of chemistry,our friendship remains in context of a group.But the fact that our feeling on seeing each other is always ."I'm so glad she's here "and the fact that we spend half the evening talking together says that this too ,in its own way ,counts as a friendship.
  There are medium friends ,and pretty good friends ,and very good friends indeed ,and these friendships are defined by their level of intimacy.And what we'll reveal at each of these levels of intimacy is calibrated with care .We might tell a medium friend,for example ,that yesterday we had a fight with our husband.And we might tell a ptetty good friend that this fight with our husband made us so mad that we slept on the couch .And we might tell a very good friend that the reason we got so mad in that fight that we slept on the couch had something to do with that girl who works in his office .But it's only to our very best friends that we're willing to tell all ,to tell what 's going on with that girl in his office.
  The best of friends.I still believe,totally love and support and trust each other,and bare to each other the secrets of their souls,and run -no question asked -to help each other,and tell harsh truths to each other when they must be told.
  But we needn't agree about everything (only 12-year-old girl friends agree about everything )to tolerate each other's point of view.To accept without judgment.To give and to take without ever keeping score.And to be there ,as I am for them and as they are for me ,to comfort our sorrows,to celebrate our hoys.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-06-25 01:20:38
  牛仔裤史话 The Birth of Blue Jeans
  Each time you step into those faded old Jeans,you put on a piece of history.The world's favorite trousers are now over a hundred years old,and here's how they started out .
  The first Jeans were made in 1850,in the California gold rush.A man named Levi Strauss realized that the gold-diggers' normal trousers weren't strong enough for the work they had to do and were wearing out quickly .Strauss had some strong canvas,which he was going to make into tents and wagon covers to sell to the workers.Instead,he made some trousers out of it and these became the first Jeans.They were brown and called the waist-high overall.
  The trousers sold well, and Strauss began looking around for ways of making them even tougher .He found a material that was better than canvas -a durable cotton that manufactured only in the south of Frace .In a town called Nimes,the material was denim.Strauss ordered boat loads of this material and ,to keep the colour consistent,had it all dyed indigo blue.The trousers became known as blue denims or blue Jeans (the world jeans is thought to come from Genoa.Italian sailors from the port of Genoa wore trousers similar to jeans,on the big trading ships).
  In the early days cowboys ,farmers ,miners and tinber Jacks-all people associated with the hard work-wore jeans.But there were a few design problems with the early styles-as cowboys discovered to their cost.When they crouched too close to the camp fire,the rivet( the metal button strengthening the jeans at the bottom of the fly)got too hot and became very uncomfortable.Levi didn't take much notice of the cowboys complaints until the 1940s,when a company official crouched too close to a camp fire and experienced the problem first-hand.The crotch rivet was soon removed!
  In the fifties and sixties,jeans represented rebellion.Film stars like James Dean,Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe wore them ,as did pop stars like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.
  Fashions changed in the seventies and jeans became flared-tight at the hip and wide at the bottom.They were very ,very tight -if you could get the zip up while standing up,they weren't tight enough.You had to lie down on the bed to do them up,for a really skin-tight fit,people would lie in a bath in their jeans and wait for them to shrink!
  As the trousers became more and more successful,other jeans manufactures started up-such as Wranglers,Pepe and Lee.
  But jeans have had their opponents,in some countries-such as the old Soviet Union-jeans became a prized status symbol of the West .They suggested that a Soviet citizen had either traveled abroad or had contacts in the West .So the authorities discouraged the wearing of jeans .And in Japan , a consumer's discouraged the wearing of jeans.And in apan ,a consumer's association adamantly refused to sell one manufacture's fasionable ripped jeans because it felt these were inferior and defective product!
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-06-28 23:57:43
  完美的圣诞树 The Perfect Tree
  "At last,the perfect tree,"I said aloud to myself.I had searched endless Christmas tree lots.The sub-zero New England cold hadn't helped my search.My nose and toes felt like ice.But now I had finally found the tree.Nothing else mattered.
  After paying for the tree ,I carried it to my car .Its needles tickled my neck as I walked.I tied my prize to the top of my yellow VW bug,I grinned as the tree almost made my car disappear.Then I started home.I wanted to share my find with my family.
  More than thirty million American families bring trees into their homes at Christmas each year.The trees come from different places .Some people go to the woods and cut their own Christmas trees.But most buy a tree from a Christmas tree lot .
  As Christmas approaches,Christmas tree sellers begin to appear.They set up shop on sidewalks and in parking lots .Many of their trees come from tree farms .Each year tree farmers reap the profits from years of care.A pine tree needs from five to fifteen years of patient care to become a Christmas tree.Sometimes a good tree costs as much as $60.
  When shopping for a tree,shoppers have many options .Each tree has its own special qualities.Some grow few branches and needles.Others are tall and bushy.Color,needle size and fragrance vary with the species of tree.The Fraser Fir is known for its pleasant scent .
  Most buyers look for fresh trees with thick green coats .But each person wants something a little different.Some buy tall trees for living rooms or dining rooms .Others buy mini trees for coffee tables or desks.
  Decorated trees have been used in celebrations for hundreds of years .Egyptians used palm leaves in winter ceremonies.Romans also decorated trees.In Germany,trees known as 'Christbaum'sat in parlors adorned with paper flowers,apples and candies.
  Christmas trees haven't always been big business in the United States.In 1842 ,Charles Minnegerode,a German immigrant,introduced the Christmas tree to Williamsburg,VA.Accounts of his 'splendidly decorated'Christmas tree appeared in many newspapers.Since that time,decorating trees has become a favorite loliday task.
  Decorating a Christmas tree stands out as a favorite holiday tradition.Every family adds their own touch to their tree.When Minnegerode decorated his first tree,candles shone on the branches.
  Today twinkling electric lights replace the candles.Brightly colored glass ornaments give many trees a homey,warm feel.Garfield and Snoopy cling to branches in other households.Homemade ornaments can be used ,too.Food also spices up a tree exciting and tasty!
  After getting my tree home,I set it up in the living room.Family members closely inspected it .They pulled on the needles,breathed its fresh scent and walked around it .Finally all agreed I'd found the perfect tree.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-06-29 14:59:10
  我的苹果树 My Apple Tree
  That June evening I was about ten.As I stood on our front porch, my eye caught an unusual plant ,not more than five inches high.It was the merest seedling ,but my father identified it as a young apple tree.Immediately I adopted it .I would transplant it ,care for it as my own,and it would thrive.When I was a man farmed this land ,it would bear good apples for me .
  Dad proposed a spot betwee the driveway and garden,and that evening he dug up the sod for me.I planted my little tree there .In my innocence about fruit trees ,I did not know that apple trees grown from seeds -rather than grafts like the trees in our orchard-are often barren or bear only inferior fruit.If my father knew it ,he chose not to disturb my optimism.
  I took a boy's care of my tree,alternately negligent and tenderly attentive.I cheered it on as it slowly prospered in the face of weeds and the regular predations of our workhorse Pearl,who was partial to its taste and tried to snatch a branch whenever she could.
  Came the years when my tree had a few bossoms but no fruit.Later I read disquieting news in a high-school textbook:apple seed trees often produce a prehistoric crabbed and I was fond of it ,so I pruned it by the book.At least it would look good.Then I went off to college and forgot about my tree.
  My back was hardly turned when it began to bear -slowly at first ,then generously,then extravagantly-tasty and versatile apples.They were good for eating and for sauce,superb for drying,and more free of insects and disease than those from our orchard trees.
  For 35 years now,my tree has poured forth its nearly flawless bouny.Twenty bushels is nothing for that tree.Every autumn,relatives and neighbors come to shake the branches and bear the surplus fruit away.
  I had foreseen it all.This perpetual bounty is what I fully expected all those years when I didn't know what I was doing.With even a little learning in these matters ,I would not have bothered to transplant or tend the tree.It was nurtured on blind faith,and the harvest that was all but impossible becomes now all but inevitable.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-07-01 08:11:10
  今晚8:15 The Big Chance
  He wasn't the kind to pick a secretary by the color of her hair.Not Bill Hargrave.Both Paula and Nancy had been smart enough to know that .And for some time everyone in the office had known that one of them,Paula or Nancy,was going to get the job.In fact,the decision would probably be made this afternoon .Hargrave was leaving town and wanted to settle the matter before he left.
  The two girls could see him from their desks outside his office .Maybe it was only some correspondence that he was looking at with cool,keeneyes.But for a moment his finger seemed to pause above those two efficient little pushbuttons.If he pressed the left one ,it would be Paula's pulse which would begin to bear faster.
  She leaned across her typewriter and said to Narcy took her time about answering .She wasn't used to having Paula talk to her in such an intimate tone .Not since they'd learned a month ago that they were both in line for a promotion ,for the important job as Bill Hargrave's secretary.
  "He does look nice."
  The two girls saw him get up from his desk and walk to the doorway of his office.He stood there with the keen,unrevealing smile on his face.
  "Did you send for the tickets?"He asked Nancy.
  "I got the tickets all right,"she answered ,"but..."she tried to smile in the same hard way the boss did."But there just aren't any stateroooms to be had ,"she told him."Not for love or money."
  The boss was certainly disappointed .Anybody could see that.
  "Suppose I try it?"Paula suggested quickly.
  And for the next ten minutes,half the office employees could hear Paula telling the ticket agent exactly what she thought of him.
  "Listen,"she said,"I don't care whose reservations you have to canel... "Well,the job was worth going after.There were the interesting people she got to talk to .The important people ,and the boxes of pertume,flowers,and candy hey often left on her desk.And there was Bill Hargrave for a boss.Young and clever and attractive.That was a factor,too.
  Paula didn't need ay lessons when it came to office politics.She was the one who was alwas busy when someone of little importance in the office wanted his material typed."sorry, but it's impossible,Jack.Why not ask Nancy?"
  And they did ask Nancy.It left Paula free to do Bill Hargrave's work in a hurry.She was never too busy for Bill's work.
  When Hargrave finally pressed one of those buttons it was at Paula's desk that the light went on .She started to make a grab for her notebook and an envelope that was on the desk.
  As for Nancy,what else could she do but sit there with her pretty blonde head bent over her typewriter?Nancy was a natural blonde,and that seemed the best way to describe her.She just didn't seem to know any tricks such as Paula did for making herself more popular with the boss.
  The momoent Paula got inside Hargrave's office he asked about that stateroom."Any luck,Paula?"
  She handed him the envelope.It contained the two tickets."That's your stateroom number on the outside,"she said in a businesslike way.
  She had on a blue flannel suit,something like Bill's ,and it was clear he thought she looked pretty smart in it .
  "Don't forget the time,"she added,"eight-fifteen."
  Hargrave smiled."So there were no staterooms for love or money,eh?"
  He looked again at the number of his stateroom and he put the envelope carefully in his inside pocket.
  Then he told her.She was going to have a new job .He mentioned the salary ,too.He didn't neglect to mention the salary.
  She took it just right-in a very businesslike manner.Just enough of gratitude.And then ,the old sportsmanship.How sorry she felt about Nancy.She didn't look soryy.
  And neither did Bill .He told her it was okay,that she shouldn't worry about Nancy,that Nancy were leaving on their honeymoon.Tonight at eight-fifteen.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-07-07 17:02:13
  难以忘却的童年 Boyhood Remembered
  I spent some part of every year at the farm until I was twelve or thirteen years old.The life which I led there with my cousins was full of charm,and so is the memory of it yet.I can call back the solemn twilight and mystery of the deep woods,the earthy smells,the rattling clatter of drops when the wind shook the trees,the far-off hammering of woodpeckers and the muffled drumming of wood pheasants in the remoteness of the forest,the snapshot glimpses of disturbed wild creatures scurrying through the grass-I can call it all back and make it as real as it ever was,and as blessed.I can call back the prairie,and its loneliness and peace,and a vast hawk hanging motionless in the sky,with his wings spread wide and the blue of the vault showing through the fringe of the end feathers.I can see the woods in their autumn dress,the oaks purple ,the hickories washed with gold ,the maples and the sumachs luminous with crimson fires,and I can hear the rustle made by the fallen leaves as we lowed through them.I can see the blue clusters of wild grapes hanging among the foliage of the saplings ,and I remember the taste of them and the smell .I know how the wild black berries looked ,and how they tasted ,and the same with the pawpaws ,the hazelnuts ,and the persimmons;and I can feel the thumping rain ,upon my head,of hickory nuts and walnuts when we were out in the frosty dawn to scramble for them with the pigs,and the gusts of wind loosed them and sent them down.I know the stain of blackberries,and how pretty it is ,and I know the taste of maple sap,and when to gather it ,and how to arrange the troughs and the delivery tubes,and how to boil down the juice ,and how to hook the sugar after it is made ,also how much better hooked sugar tastes than any that is honestly come by ,let bigots say what they will.I know how a prize watermelon looks when it is sunning its fat rotundity among pumpkin vines and "simblins";I know now to tell when it is ripe without "plugging "it ;I know how inviting it looks when it is cooling itself in a tub of water under the bed ,waiting;I know how it looks when it lies on the table in the sheltered great floor space between house and kitchen,and the children gathered for the sacrifice and their mouths watering;I know the crackling sound it makes when the carving knife enters its end,and I can see the split fly along in front of the blade as the knife cleaves its way to the other end ;I can see its halves fall apart and display the rich red meal and the black seeds,and the heart standing up,a luxury fit for the elect ;I know how a boy looks behind a yard-long slice of that melon,and I know how he feels;for I have been there.I know the taste of the watermelon which has been honestly come by ,and I know the taste of the watermelon which has been acquited by art.Both taste good .But the wxperienced know which taste best.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-07-20 16:58:49
  Waiter from Hell 该死的侍者
  Remember when eating out was a relaxing experience ?someone else cooked for you ,served you and cleaned up after you.All you had to do was chew,swallow and pay .No longer,though.Today you feel like a laboratory rat who has to struggle through a maze every time it wants a chunk of cheeese.
  "Good evening,"the maitre d' said."Table for four?"
  "Yes ,thank you ."
  "Smoking or non?"
  "Nonsmoking ."
  "Would you prefer to dine indoors or outdoors this evening?"
  "I guess in doors would be good."
  "Very well,sir,"he said ."Would you like to be seated in the main dining room ,the enclosed patio or our lovely solarium?"
  "Uh,let me see...uh.."
  "I can give you a table with a lovely view in our lovely solarium."
  "I think the solarium would be lovely ,"Isaid .We followed him there.
  "Now ,would you prefer a view overlooking the golf course,the sunset on the or the majestic mountains to the west?"
  "Whatever you recommend ,"I said.Let him make a decision for a change ,I thought .
  He sat us by a window facing the golf course,the lake or the mountains.I couldn't tell which because it was dark outside.
  Then a young man better dressed and better looking than any of us presented himself at our table ."Good evening ,my name is Paul,and I'll be your waiter this evening .Would you like a few minutes before I take your order?"
  "No ,"I said ."I'm just a meat-and-potatoes guy,so I'll have the filet mignon and a baked potato."
  "Soup or salad?"
  "We have a mixed-green salad,hearts of palm or a very fine endive salad with baby shrimp."
  "Just a mixed-green salad,okay?"
  "Whatever you say ,sir.Dressing?"
  I didn't want to make another decision."Whatever you've got will be fine."
  "We have creamy Italian,Blue Cheese ,Vinaigrette,Thousand Island,Honey Dijon ,Ranch..."
  "Just bring me one .Surprise me."
  "greamy Italian is our house specialty.Would that be all right,sir?"
  "Yeah."I was curt.I was done with civility.
  "And your baked potato..."
  I knew what was coming ."I just want the baked potato dry,youunderstand?I don't want anything on it ."
  "No butter?No sour cream?"
  "No chives?"
  "No !Don't you understand English?"I shouted ."I don't want anything on it .Just bring me a baked potato and a steak."
  "would you prefer the six,eight-or 12-ounce steak,sir?"
  "Would you like that rare ,medium rare,medium,medium well or well done?Or ,if you prefer,we can butterfly it for you ."
  "Pauly Boy ,"I said ,"you are really starting to get me steamed."
  " Which brings up the vegetables,sir.Would you like steamed broccoli,creamed corn,sauteed zucchini,diced carrots-"
  That did it .I threw my napkin to the floor,stood up ,put my face right in his arrogant kisser and said,"How'd you like to settle this outside?"
  "Fine with me ,sir.Would you prefer the parking lot,the side alley or the street in front of the restaurant?"
  "I prefer right here,"I said ,and sucker-punched him.
  He ducked,then countered with a left hook right under my eye.It was the first time all night he hadn't offered me a selection.I collapsed semiconscious into my chair,as someone in authority rushed over and berated Pauly.
  I left my tie being loosened,my collar unbuttoned,handsslapping my face.When I regained my senses ,I saw the very concerned maitre d' right in front of my nose.He apologized and offered to buy me a drink,call the paramedics-whatever I wanted.
  "No ,no."I said ."I'll be all right.Just bring me a glass of water."
  "Yes ,sir ,right away,"he said.Would prefer imported mineral water,sparkling water or club soda with a wedge of lime?"
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-23 17:44:21
  The Breadwinner 养家人
  The parents of a boy of fourteen were waiting for him to come home with his first week's wages.
  The mother had laid the table and was cutting some slices of bread and butter for tea.She was a little woman with a pinched face and a spare body,dressed in a blue blouse and skirt,the front of the skirt covered with a starched white apron.She looked tired and frequently sighed heavily.
  The father ,sprawling inelegantly in an old armchair by the fireside ,legs outstretched,was little too. He had watery blue eyes and a heavy brown moustache,which he sucked occasionally.
  These people were plainly poor,for the room,though clean,was meanly furnished,and the thick pieces of bread and butter were the only food on the table.
  As she prepared the meal,the woman from time to time looked contemptuously at her husband.He ignored her,raising his eyebrows,humming,or tapping his teeth now and then with his finger-nails,making a pretence of being profoundly bored.
  "You'll keep your hands off the money,"said the woman ,obviously repeating something that she had already said several times before."I know what'll happen to it if you get hold of it .He'll give it to me .It'll pay the rent and buy us a bit of food ,and not go into the till at the nearest public-house."
  "You shut your mouth,"said the man,quietly.
  "I'll not shut my mouth!"cried the woman,in a quick burst of anger."Why should I shut my mouth?You've been boss here for long enough.I put up with it when you were bringing money into the house,but I'll not put up with it now.You're nobody here.Understand?Nobody.I'm boss and he'll hand the money to me!"
  "We'll see about that",said the man ,leisurely poling the fire.
  Nothing more was said for about five minutes.
  Then the boy came in .He did not look older than ten or eleven years.He looked absurd in long trousers .The whites of his eyes against his black face gave him a startled expression.
  The father got to his feet.
  "Where's the money?"he demanded.
  The boy looked from one to the other.He was afraid of his father.He licked his pale lips.
  "Came on now,"said the man."Where's the money?"
  "Don't give it to him,"said the woman ."Don't give it to him,Billy.Give it to me."
  The father advanced on the boy,his teeth showing in a snarl under his big moustache.
  "Where's that money?"he almost whispered.
  The boy looked him straight in the eyes.
  "I lost it ,"he said.
  "You-what?"cried his father.
  "I lost it,"the boy repeated.
  The man began to shout and wave his hands about.
  "Lost it!Lost it! What are you talking about?How could you lose it ?"
  "It was in a packet,"said the boy,"a little envelope.I lost it ."
  "Where did you lose it ?"
  "I don't know.I must have dropped it in the street."
  "Did you go back and look for it ?"
  The boy nodded ."I couldn't find it ,"he said.
  The man made a noise in his throat,half grunt,half moan-the sort of noise that an animal would make.
  "So you lost it ,did you?"he said .He stepped back a couple of paces and took off his belt -a wide ,thick belt with a heavy brass buckle."Come here,"he said.
  The boy ,biting his lower lip so as to keep back the tears ,advanced,and the man raised his arm.The woman,motionless until that moment ,leapt forward and seized it .Her husband,finding strength in his blind rage,pushed her aside easily .He brought the belt down on the boy's back.He beat him unmercifully about the body and legs .The boy sank to the floor ,but did not cry out.
  When the man had spent himself,he put on the belt and pulled the boy to his feet.
  "Now you'll get off to bed,"he said.
  "The lad wants some food,"said the woman.
  "He'll go to bed.Go and wash yourself."
  Without a word boy went into the scullery and washed his hands and face .When he had doe this he went straight upstairs .
  The man sat down at the table ,ate some bread and butter and drank two cups of tea.The woman ate nothing.She sat opposite him,never taking her eyes from his face ,looking with hatred at him.Just as before,he took no notice of her ,ignored her,behaved as if she were not there at all.
  When he had finished the meal he went out .
  Immediately he had shut the door the woman jumped to her feet and ran upstairs to the boy's room.He was sobbing bitterly,his face buried in the pillow.She sat on the edge of the bed and put her arms about him,pressed him close to her breast,ran her fingers through his disordered hair,whispered endearments,consoling him.He let her do this ,finding comfort in her caresses,relief in his own tears.
  After a while his weeping ceased.He raised his head and smiled at her,his wet eyes bright.Then he put his hand under the pillow and withdrew a small dirty envelope.
  "Here's the money,"he whispered.
  She took the envelope and opened it and pulled out a long strip of paper with some figures on it -a ten shilling note and a sixpence.
作者:天下10 时间:2009-08-23 19:42:18
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-24 21:22:32
  言之何物 Which Which
  The relative pronoun "which" can cause more trouble than any other word ,if recklessly used.Foolhardy persons sometimes get lost in which-clauses and are never heard of again.My distinguished contemporary,Fowler ,cites several tragic cases ,of which the following is one:"It was rumoured that Beaconsfield intended opening the Conference with a speech in French,his pronunciation of which language leaving everything to be desired..."That's as much as Mr.Fowler quotes because,at his age,he was afraid to go any farther.The young man who originally got into that sentence was never found .His fate,however ,was not as terrible as that of another adventurerwho became involved in a remarkable which-mire.Fowler has followed his devious course as far as he safely could on foot:"Surely what applies to games should also apply to racing,the leaders of which being the very people from whom an example might well be looked for..."Not even Henry James could have successfully emerged from a sentence with "which,""whom,"and "being"in it .The safest way to avoid such things is to follow in the path of the American author,Ernest Hemingway.In his youth he was trapped in a which-clause one time and barely escaped with his mind.He was going along on solid ground until he go into this:"It was the one thing of which,being very much afraid-for whom has not been warned to fear such things-he..."Being a young and powerfully built man,Hemingway was able to fight his way back to where he had started,and begin again.This time he skirted the treacherous morass in this way:"He was afraid of one thing.This was the one thing.He had been warned to fear such things.Everybody has been warned to fear such things."Today Hemingway is alive and well,and many happy writers are following along the trail he blazed .What most people don't realize is that one "which" leads to another.Trying to cross a paragraph by leaping from "which" to "which" is like Eliza crossing the ice.The danger is in missing a "which" and falling in .A case in point is this:"He went up to a pew which was in the gallery,which brought him under a colored window which he loved and always quieted his spirits."The writer,worn out missed the last "which"-the one that should come just before "always" in that sentence.But supposing he had got it in !we would have:"He went up to a pew which was in the gallery ,which brought him under a colored window which always quieted his spirit."Your inveterate whicher in this way gives the effect of tweeting like a bird or walking with a crutch ,and is not welcome in the best company.
  It is well to remember that one "which"leads to two and that two"whiches "multiply like rabbits.You should never start out with the idea that you can get by with one"which" .Suddenly they are all around you.Take a sentence like this:"It imposes a problem which we either solve ,or perish."On a hot night or after a hard day's work, a man often lets himself get by with a monstrosity like that ,but suppose he dictates that sentence bright and early in the morning .It comes to him typed out by his stenographer and he instantly senses that something is the matter with it .He tries to reconstruct the sentence,still clinging to the "which,"and gets something like this :"It imposes a problem which we either solve,or which ,failing to solve,we must perish on account of ."He goes to the water-cooler,gets a drink,sharpens his pencil,and grimly tries again."It imposes a problem which we either solve or which we don't solve and..."He begins once more:"It imposes a problem which we either solve,or which we do not solve,and from which..."The more times he does it the more "whiches "he gets.The way out is simple:"We must either solve this problem,or perish."Never monkey with "which."Nothing except getting tangled up in a typewriter ribbon is worse.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-27 14:55:37
  电视陌客 The Shock of Recognition
  A few years ago ,New York City had a blackout which caused all the television stations in the area to go out for several hours .This created crises in families all over the New York area and proved that TV plays a much greater role in people's lives than anyone can imagine.
  When the TV went off in the Bufkins house in Forest Hills ,panic set in.First ,Bufkins thought it was his set in the living room,so he rushed into his bedroom and turned on that set.Nothing .The phone rang and Mrs.Bufkins heard her sister say that there was a blackout.She hung up and said to her husband,"It isn't your set.Something's happened to the top of the Empire State Building."
  Bufkins said ,"Who are you?"
  "I'm your wife ,Edith."
  "Oh,"Bufkins said,"then I suppose those kids in there are mine."
  "That's right,"Mrs.Bufkins said ."If you ever got out of that armchair in front of the TV set,you'd know us ."
  "Boy,they've really grown,"Bufkins said,looking at his son and daughter."How old are they now?"
  "Thirteen and fourteen,"Mrs. Bufkins replied.
  "I'll be darned.Hi,kids."
  "Who's he ?"Bufkins' son ,Henry asked.
  "It's your father,"Mrs.Bufkins said.
  "I'm pleased to meet you,"Bufkins' daughter,Mary ,said shyly.There was an embarrassed silence all around.
  "Look,"said Bufkins,finally."I know I haven't been much of a father,but now that the TV's out,I'd like to make it up to you. "
  "How?"asked Henry.
  "Well,let's just talk,"Bufkins said."That's the best way to get acpuainted."
  "What do you want to talk about?"Mary asked.
  "Well, for starters,what school do you go to ?"
  "We go to Forest Hills High School,"Henry said.
  "What do you do?"Mary asked.
  "I thought you were a car salesman,"Mrs.Bufkins said in surprise.
  "That was two years ago.Didn't I tell you I changed jobs?"Bufkins said in surprise.
  "No,you didn't .You haven't told me anything for two years."
  "Yup,I'm doing quite well,too."Bufkins said.
  "Then why am I working in a department store?"Mrs. Bufkins demanded.
  "Oh,are you still working in a department store?If I had known that ,I would have told you you could quit last year.You should have mentioned it ,"Bufkins said.
  There was more dead silence.Finally Henry said,"Hey ,you want to hear me play the guitar?"
  "I'll be darned.You know how to play the guitar?Say,didn't I have a daughter who played the guitar?"
  "That was Susie,"Mrs. Bufkins said.
  "Where is she?"
  "She got married a year ago,just about the time you were watching the World Series."
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-28 10:25:54
  小狗救险记 “Stop That Train”
  Trigger was a railroad dog right from the start.Charlie,the station agent,found the black-and white cocker spaniel in a deserted boxcar.
  Before he adopted Trigger,Charlie was frequently lonesome.He worked at a small railroad station high up in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.He was the flagman ,switchman,and yardmaster.He was everything,because there was no one else.One of Charlie's duties was to oturn the switch ,and Trigger went with him.It was an important task,because at the switch the trains could go only on the right fork to the gold fields or on the left fork to the silver mines.Charlie knew which way to turn the switch by the number of toots signaled to him by the engineer.
  Hearing those engine whistles all his life ,Trigger learned to tell them apart.Whenever they sounded ,he ran to the switch .With his little head docked to one side and his black-and white tail straight up ,he'd watch Charlie open the switch .Trigger tool such an unusual interest in the process that Charlie decided to teach him how to lift the handle with his nose and move it with his paws .It wasn't very long before Trigger could do it quite well.Charlie discovered a section of track that needed repair.When the men came out to work on the rails.Charlie showed them how Trigger could turn the witch.
  They took off their caps and scratched their heads .It was hard for them to believe what they were seeing.
  "Charlie,you got yourself a regular railroad dog,"one of them said.
  While the men were working,Charlie had to stop the train,so he'd stand in the middle of the tracks and wave a red flag.Trigger went with him each time and stood beside him.Soon Charlie let Trigger carry the flag.Then the dog learned to fetch it .By the time the repairs were almost finished,Trigger would get the flag,sit up between the rails holding the flag in his teeth,and wait for the big iron locomotive to stop.Sometimes the big monster of an engine,bellowing steam,would come very close to the little dog before it stopped,but Trigger never faltered.He held still until the iron wheels came to a screeching halt.Then he'd wag his tail and go back to the station.
  One bitter-cold winter day when the wind blew with an icy breath,Charlie's knees began to hurt .When he heard the train coming up the mountain ,he started out for the switch.It was torture for Charlie to walk.Trigger scampered along,his curly black ears flopping in the biting wind.But when they reached the switch,Trigger could not move it.
  "What's the matter,Trigger?"Charlie asked.
  Then he saw .The switch was frozen in the middle.The train coming could not go on the left or the right fork.It would wreck.Charlie tugged with all his might,but the switch did not move.
  Horrified ,Charlie was in a state of shock.Trigger ,wagging his tail,brought Charlie out of it ."Old 49³ will be here before I can get the red flag,"Charlie moaned.
  The engineer was signaling for the left fork.Expecting to go to the silver mines,he would instead shoot straight ahead and down the mountain.
  "Trigger,Mr.Sears,the superintendent of the railroad,is on Old 49.And all the others will go down ,too!Quick,Trigger,fetch the flag!"
  The little dog started running back to the station.
  "Hurry!"shouted Charlie above the howling wind.
  Trigger ran faster.
  In spite of the weather ,little beads of sweat formed on Charlie's forehead .He had never been so scared .Could Trigger save the train?He closed his eyes and said a prayer.The sound of the train pounding on the rails thundered in Charlie's head.
  Tugging its load of passengers,the engine labored upward."Now it's at the bend ,"Charlie said aloud."It'll come raring by me on the downgrade and hit that spot where the track divides,and over they'll go -people,boxcars,engine,strewn all over the mountainside."
  Charlie hated to open his eyes,but when he did here was Trigger in the center of the track,sitting proudly on his hind legs ,his two little paws showing like white mittens ,the red flag secure in his mouth.
  Closer and closer the engine came,its great iron point aimed like an arrow at the brave little dog.Sparks flew from the wheels as the engineer tried to apply the brakes.Just inches from Trigger, the train stopped.Charlie was a man who never let his feelings show,but this time they overwhelmed him.He hobbled over to Trigger,picked up the little dog,flag and all ,and hugged him."You did it Trigger.You did it !"
  Mr.Sears hopped off the train ,wanting to know why it had stopped .When he heard about Trigger,Mr.Sears petted the dog and said ,"This wee laddie saved all our lives .I'm going to send him a big ,juicy steak every day for as long as he lives ."
  Some say this a true story.They say it happened at Forks Creek,Colorado,in 1900,and the real Trigger stopped that train
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-30 04:28:02
  鲜血、辛劳、汗水和眼泪 Blood,Toil,Sweat and Tears
  On Friday evening last I received from His Majesty the mission to form a new administration.It was the evident will of Parliament and the nation that this should be received on the broadest possible basis and that it should include all parties.
  I have already completed the most important part of this task.A war cabinet has been formed of five members,representing,with the Labor,Opposition and Liberals the unity of the nation.It was necessary that this should be done in one single day,on account of the extreme urgency and rigor of events.A number of other key positions were filled yesterday,and I am submitting a further list to His Majesty tonight.I hope to complete the appointment of the principal Ministers during tomorrow.The appointment of the other Ministers usually takes a little longer,but I trust that ,when Parliament meets again ,this part of task will be completed ,and that the administration will be complete in all respects.
  I considered it in the public interest to suggest to the Speaker that the House should be summoned today.Mr.speaker agreed,and took the necessary steps, in accordance with the powers conferred upon him by the Resolution of the House .At the end of the proceedings today,the adjournment of the House will be proposed until Tuesday,May 21,with provision for earlier meeting if need be .The business to be considered during that week will be notified to Members at the earliest opportunity.
  I now invite the House by a resolution to record its approval of the steps taken and declare its confidence in the new government.The resolution:
  "That this House welcomes the formation of a government representing the united and inflexible resolve of the nation to prosecute the war with Germany to a victorious conclusion."
  To form an administration of this scale and complexity is a serious undertaking in itself .But we are in the preliminary phase of one of the greatest battles in history.We are in action at many other points -in Norway and in Holland-and we have to be prepared in the Mediterranean.The air battle is continuing,and many preparations have to be made here at home .
  In this crisis I think I may be pardoned if I do not address the House at any length today ,and I hope that any of my friends and colleagues or former colleagues who are affected by the political reconstruction will make all allowances for any lack of ceremony with which it has been necessary to act.
  I say to the House as I said to ministers who have joined this government,I have nothing to offer but blood,toil,tears and sweat .We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind .We have before us many,many months of struggle and suffering.
  You ask,what is our policy?I say it is victory.Victory at all costs-victory in spite of all terrors-victory,however long and hard the road may be ,for without victory there is no survival.
  Let that be realized.No survival for the British Empire,no survival for all that the British Empire has stood for ,no survival for the urge ,the impulse of the ages,that mankind shall move forward toward his goal.
  I take up my task in buoyancy and hope .I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men.
  I feel entitled at this juncture ,at this time ,to claim the aid of all and to say ,"Come then ,let us go forward together with our united strength."
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-08-31 13:23:14
  我的祖父 My Grandfather
  My grandfather was an old mariner.He would never admit that engineers,firemen and smokers were sailors,although they went to sea and called themselves by that proud name.He always said that the wind and not fire was the care of the true mariner.He had no interest in anything except the weather ,and his chief conversation was the doings of the wind .My grandfather's opinion of man,woman or child that came into the house and could not answer as to which way the wind blew,was not very high.
  He did not need the information ,but he was never satisfied if others did not show the same interest.If they did not ,he judged them to be of small account and took no trouble to entertain them.Any kind of answer would do ,for the old man would then speak according to a compass.If he got up early in the morning-which he always did-he never sat down to breakfast until he had told us all ,which way the wind blew ,although I cannot remember seeing my grandfather show the least concern.When night came no one could go out of the house for even a minute and come back in ,back door or front ,without being asked,"Is everything made fast?"If the maid servant went out to the back with rubbish ,she was always asked on her return if she had made everything fast.No sooner would my grandfather see us all preparing for bed ,than he would stand in the middle of the kitchen-a big,red faced ,bearded old man -and roar,at no one in particular,"Is everything made fast?"The maid-servant would always answer for the back door,saying,"I have bolted the back door,Captain Davies".But in spite of these words my grandfather was always the last to go to bed ,and he was to be heard trying all the locks,bolts and latches for some time after we had all gone upstairs .
  Other people locked their doors and fastened their windows at night for one reason only -to keep out thieves .But that old sea captain knew the power of a strong wind,and feared no other house -breaker at night.One morning my grandmother said she heard in the night someone fingering at the the front door,and the maidservant had heard also.But when my grandfather was told of this he wanted to know what else it could be but the wind .On this occasion he loudly expressed his disgust at being"surrounded by a parcel of women that could not tell the difference between the wind and a thief."
  My own wandering blood comes from my seafaring grandfather who ,after he had left the sea and settle on shore ,still governed his house by a ship's rules.I was quite young at the time of his death,but I remember it well.I had been left in the room to watch him,with orders ,which I did not understand,to call for help if anything happened.A small fire was burning in the grate-proof that the old sea captain was far gone,or he would not have had a coal fire in a bed-room.This fire made the room look cheerful,and I never had one thought of death .Moreover ,I had a very interesting book of wild adventure ,which I was about half-way through,and eager to continue to the end.Being deeply interested in this book I could not say whether my grandfather called once or twice;all I know is that I was suddenly made aware of his voice,and remembered that I had to call for help if anything happened.Taking the book with me I went to his bedside and leaned over him .His face ,which had always been so red,was now quite pale.
  He looked hard at me for a long time ,but said nothing .I was just about to return to my seat at the fire ,when he began to mutter indistinctly.But ,in spite of his difficulty,his last word was quite clear-it was the word"fast".Of course,I knew at once that he was then asking if everything was made fast ,so I nodded "yes".Seeing him now looking satisfied I lost no time in returning to my book.But I could not have been reading very long when I heard a struggle in the bed.This sound made me tremble with fear,for I thought my grandfather had gone mad and was about to rise and attack me .Waiting for a little time,to see if he succeeded in rising when I intended to run out of the room,I felt a great relief to see him at last lying quiet again, and to hear him breathing hard.But soon after this I became more frightened than ever,for he was now taking very long breaths,which I did not know the meaning of .At last these breaths became so very long that I felt it impossible to remain in the room ,for I expected something to happen ,although his hands and feet made no motion at all.However, I sat still for a while longer,but had now forgotten all about my book.While my mind was in this state,not knowing whether to stay or go,I heard a sound -had never heard its like before -coming from my grandfather's bed;a sound that frightened me more than heavy breathing -it was a rattle in the old man's throat.In less than half a minute after hearing this I was down in the presence of my grandmother and her comforters.As soon as they saw my face they all knew that something had happened.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-01 12:16:52
  跌落的眼镜 The Lost Spectacles
  It was midnight in our quiet Edinburgh house.My wife was finishing the packing for a holiday.Crossing the hallway,she dropped her glasses,which slipped through a small hole in the floor.
  It was a solid ,19th century stone floor ,but by removing a small section,we could see the spectacles glinting below .Lying prone beside the hole ,I reached down.
  My fingers searched in the dust,scrabbled unavailingly,then gave up.The spectacles were tantalizingly out of reach.I started to withdraw my arm.It wouldn't come.It was stuck,the elbow jammed in a gap between rock-hard stone and iron beam.I pulled,gingerly at first,then more brutally.It wouldn't budge.
  I twisted it to no effect.I lay trapped,face down-an undignified position.My wife,who seemed to be insufficiently alert to the seriousness of the situation,suggested greasing my arm with olive oil.We poured some into the hole.It had no effect.For a moment I thought I heard the sounds of suppressed laughter ,but ,denied proper eye contact,I could not be certain.
  "We'll have to call the fire department,"she said .
  I decided to struggle.It is one thing to be exposed to humiliation in the privacy of one's own home,but the prospect of revealing it to a team of firemen was too awful to contemplate.I tugged and twisted .Ten minutes later,I gave in .My wife telephoned the local police station to seek advice.They said we should call the fire department.
  There is ,apparently,no means of summoning a single fireman.Once the emergency number has been dialed ,you get the whole works.Minutes later ,down the gently sleeping street roared a fire engine,blue lights flashing.From it leapt three yellow-helmeted firemen,axes swinging from their belts.I was able to study their boots,which were enormous.They crouched around me ,assessing the situation from a professional point of view.Not one ,so far as I could tell ,was laughing.
  Another vehicle pulled up outside,a police van.Two officers,walkies-talkies crackling,strode in and began taking particulars.They ,too,had large boots,but as to whether they were smiling or not .I cannot say.
  They were joined by an officer from the Criminal Investigation Division,drawn to the scene by a garbled report that a man was 'up to his arms in concrete'.He said he had never heard of such a thing before and had come along to see what it was like.
  Seconds later ,with another screech of brakes,an ambulance drew up,and two eager paramedics jumped down ,bearing large bags with medical equipment ,oxygen cylinders and much of the paraphernalia associated with sophisticated resuscitation procedures.They crouched sympathetically beside me and asked searching questions about my medical condition.I told them I was as well as could be expected .At this stage there were eight men in the house and three vehicles with flashing lights outside.My line of vision ,at floor level ,was directly out through the front door.A passer-by was watching ,transfixed .All he could see was a body,face down,surrounded by the entire range of the city's emergency services.What he made of it I shudder to think.
  One of the paramedics suggested the olive-oil treatment again.The half-empty bottle of it poured down the hole while he manipulated my body around to the point where it felt as if the entire arm were being twisted off."Now ,pull,"he said.
  I pulled ,and suddenly up it came bloody,bruised,soaked in mud-colored oil,but a whole arm nevertheless."Wiggle your fingers,"said the paramedic .They wiggled."Next time ,"he said,in the only note of reproof I heard the whole night,"try a coat hanger."
  The policemen snapped their notebooks shut.The ambulance man packed up their oxygen cylinders ,and the firemen replaced their axes,rather reluctantly I thought .Engines roared back to life,and the emergency column pulled away.
  Revived by a sizable beer,I tried coat hanger .I retrieved the spectacles in about two and a half and a half minutes.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-02 09:25:39
  英国议会大厦 The Houses of Parliament
  Close by Westminster Abbey on the riverside stands the Palace of Westminster,generally known as the House of Parliament.Although these buildings are in Gothic style,they are not truly historic ,for they were built in 1840 on the site of the old Palace which was destroyed by fire in 1834.Parliament consists of two separate chambers whose membership and duties have evolved slowly over centuries:the House of Lords (or Upper House),whose members sit there by hereditary right or conferred privilege (there is an increasing number of life peers,whose titles cease when they die),and the House of Commons,where the elected Members of Parliament sit.Although the Upper House is the larger in membership-more than one thousand peers have the right to attend the sittings -nearly all the legislation is initiated in the House of Commons and presented to the Lords for approval.This is ,however,little more than a formality,for the powers of the House of Lords are strictly Limited.
  The six hundred and fifty elected members of the House of Commons meet in a Chamber which is still sometimes called St.Stephen's Chapel.The original chapel where the first parliaments assembled centuries ago was lost in 1834,and the present Chamber is a replica of the one built in 1840 but destroyed during World War II. The members sit on two sides of the Chamber ,one side for the government and the other for the Opposition .Between them sits 'Mr.Speaker',who acts as chairman in the debates.Traditionally,his role was to inform the House of Lords and the monarch of decisions taken by the elected parliament,and as there have been periods in British history when such a duty could be dangerous ,the member chosen to be Mr.speaker always accepts the position with the pretence of great reluctance and fear!
  It is a privilege of democratic government that anyone may visit the Houses of Parliament and may sit in the Strangers' Gallery,looking down into the House of Commons ,to listen to a debate.The Central Lobby entrance hall is usually busy with people coming and going ,some just curious to see the inside of the buildings ,others wanting to see their own elected M.P. On fine days ,the terrace overlooking the river is crowded with small tables where Members can entertain their guests to tea .
  The Parliamentary session begins in November and ,with recessions at holiday periods(Christmas ,Easter and in summer),lasts for about one hundred and sixty days .the sittings begin at 2.30p.m. from Monday to Thursday and at 11a.m. on Friday.There is no set finishing time for sittings and if there is urgent business to discuss the sittings may go on until late at night or ,indeed ,all through the night .All the time Parliament is in session ,a flag flies at the top of the Victoria tower ,and when the House is still sitting after dark,light burns over the clock face of Big Ben.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-03 12:57:53
  和妈妈一起唱 singing with Mom
  Mom's memory went wild after my dad died.Later on ,she no longer knew me ,her only living child .And yet she was always delighted to see me ,and believed me completely when I said ,"It's your son ,John,Mom."
  My 87-year-old mother's recollections of an extraordinarily vibrant life were increasingly elusive.She told me a wonderful story about a cruise she and her sister,both schoolteachers,took around Cape Horn in 1925:
  "We were able to save money on our small salaries because we lived very simply at home with our mother.On the ship we'd walk on the deck in the morning ,play badminton,talk with other young people ,nap in the afternoon and then stay up late because the nights were warm and clear and there was moonlight -and starlight.I met a lovely young man,and we had a very sweet romance,standing at the railing in the evening ,singing songs together."
  This was a real memory,dormant for many years.But soon Mom began to talk of an imaginary second husband.She and ma father had been married only briefly,she said -though actually she and Dad were married for 50 years.
  She was shocked each time I reminded her that I lived in California.She was delighted by every bit of family news I gave her-and delighted all over again if I repeated the same news a moment later.Beyond that she had almost nothing to say.
  Visits became painful.I wanted to spark her memory with vivid images-"I know you remember the Christmasberry tree in the back yard..."I wanted her to remember ,too ,new stories about my kids and my life in the West.
  She remembered non of it,sensed that she was failing me and became agitated.Sometimes visits lasted only 20 minutes:I ran through all my special news ,told her I loved her,and didn't know what else to say.
  A few years ago,out of desperation,I began to sing to her ,quietly ,shyly.I brought along the copy of the old Fireside Book of Folk Songs that used to perch on Mom'sbaby grand piano in the 1950s.
  Sitting up straight,I sang "Loch Lomond"to my mother that day ,filling my lungs,enunciating,remembering her at the piano,feeling the music glow within me .
  To my astonishment Mom began to sing along,reading the words above my finger,then singing from memory.
  Mom was ecstatic as we sang ,and so was I.She'd clap her hands as we finished a song,and once took my hands in hers,looked into my eyes and said ,"I never knew there could be such sweetness in a human relationship."
  Another time,as we rested between songs,I said '90s style,"This is kinda nice."She drew herself upright ,indignant at my sloppy language."Kinda nice?This is more than kinda nice!"
  During visits after that ,we did nothing but make music.On my wooden recorder I conjured up more than a hundred of the songs she had originally taught me -"Red River Valley,""The Band Played On ,""I'll take You Home Again,Kathleen"-songs Mom had learned as many as 80 years ago.
  Her voice floated with my recorder's melody,two frail sopranos at play.She sang without words,her voice itself an instrument.
  Once ,near the top of "Danny Boy,"her clear voice sailed way above my high note,but exactly right,a wild perfect harmony she broke by sailing ,for a timeless instant,even higher.She stopped as though she had screamed.
  Shocked at herself,she looked at me to see if what she had does okay. Yes ,I said with my eyes,as I wound down through the last chorus of "Danny Boy."Mom looked back with eyes full of wonder,as she must have looked at me on the first day of life.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-04 13:08:41
  正直的老虎 The Honourable Tiger
  It was noon time,when people in India prepared to eat their dinner.A grass-cutter,who had been busy since sunrise cutting grass for the cows of his master,was carrying on his head his load of grass bound together in a coarse rope net.trudging along through a very thick,part of the jungle,he was alarmed by a tiger which suddenly crashed out of the bushes and glared at him..The great beast stood in the middle of the track,lashing his tail.
  The grass-cutter turned to run away.He was a long way from his home and he knew that escape was almost hopeless ,for the tiger,with his mighty power of springing,could catch him in one bound.So when the king of the jungle ceased lashing his tail and looked gently at the man as a sheep might look at her lamb,the grass-cutter saw that his only chance of safety was to listen when the tiger spoke.
  "Oh,grass-cutter,why are frightened?Why would you run away?"asked the animal.
  "Because you will kill and eat me,"replied the trembling man.
  "Not so ,"answered the tiger."Stay,I command you!I have something important to say to you.Listen!I am an honourable tiger.If you will hide me in your load of grass ,I will treat you as I would treat my father and my mother."
  To this strange request the grass-cutter was willing to agree;indeed,he felt in such danger of his life that he had no other choice.He had no weapon with to defend himself except his reaping-hook and no man can fight a tiger with a reaping-hook.
  "You are very big,"said the grass-cutter:"and you are very heavy .I am a poor and weak man.How can I lift you on my head?"
  "There is only one thing for me to do then,"snarled the huge animal ,looking fierce."I must kill you and eat you.It is noon and I am hungry."
  ""No,No!"pleaded the grass-cutter in despair."I have a wife and children to support.Spare my life,my lord."
  The man lowered his bundle of grass and untied the rope that bound it .At once the tiger crept in and curled himself in the middle of the grass as a cat might do .The grass-cutter covered him over and tied the rope very carefully so that not a bit of the creature's body could be seen.With a great effort he managed to get the load on his head and ,as he staggered on his way he was bent nearly double under the weight.
  The man had not gone far when he met a huntsman with a gun."Have you seen a tiger pass this way?"the huntsman asked.
  "No sir,"answered the grass-cutter."I have seen no tiger."
  "He is a man eater,a very dangerous animal,"said the huntsman ."He has killed several men,women and children,so I have come out to shoot him."With these words he passed on his way.
  No sooner had the huntsman gone than the tiger began to struggle to be free."You have tied me too tight ;let me out,"he growled.So the grass-cutter lifted the load from his head and placed it under a tree.When he had untied the rope ,the tiger sprang out .
  "You are a wicked man,"said the tiger."You lied to the huntsman.Lies are always punished.As I am an honourable tiger,and never lie,I must punish you.""I lied to save your life,"cried the unhappy man."The huntsman had come out to shoot you and protected you."
  The tiger paid no heed to what the grass-cutter said."You are a fine fat man.I shall kill you and eat you,"he snarled.
  "But you promised to treat me as you would treat your father and your mother,"said the grass-cutter.
  "I care not for promises,"answered the tiger."That is the way of the jungle."
  "But it is not the way of the world,"replied the grass-cutter."With us it is good for evil-"
  "It is not so in the jungle,"snapped the tiger."With us it is evil for good .Ask the tree."
  "Alas,alas!"sighed the tree,"the tiger is right and you are wrong.See what a pleasant shade I cast around me;how cool it is for tired travelers to rest and eat their bread.And yet ,when they have rested and are refreshed,they look up and say,'if this tree were cut down it would make fine boxes and strong beds.'"
  "Ah!Now that you have heard what the tree has said ,you see that I am right,"growled the tiger."I am an honourable tiger,and I must keep to the ways of the jungle folk."
  The grass-cutter was not going to give in ,so he said calmly, "What can a tree know?His head is of wood.Let us first ask advice of yonder herd of buffaloes."
  The tiger agreed,so he and the man made their way towards the buffaloes.They spoke to an old cow buffalo who was grazing apart.She looked up and listened when they began their story,which told how the ma had hidden the tiger in his load of grass,and how he had lied to save the tiger's life,and how the tiger had promised to treat the grass-cutter as he would treat his own father and mother.
  The old cow buffalo shook her head ."All those buffaloes you see grazing around me are my children and my grandchildren.They drank of my milk when they were young .I protected them.Now that they are strong and I am old and weak,they thrust their horns into my sides and push me away angrily;they will not even allow me to graze near them.The tiger is right;it is always evil for good."
  "Surely you see now that I speak the truth,my brother,"said the tiger."Come ,I am hungry."
  "Wait,wait!"cried the grass-cutter,who was now sorry that he had not left the tiger to the huntsman,who would have shot him."Let us seek the advice of yet a third judge."Again the tiger agreed,feeling certain that the advice would be the same.
  At this moment a jackal peeped out of the jungle.
  "Oh,jackal!"they both cried ."Give judgment between us."
  The tiger explained the case."On what you say depends my dinner and this man's life,"he added.
  When the jackal heard of the quarrel,he pretended to look very wise and ,as in the manner of his tribe ,he decided on a cunning trick.
  "How can I believe this story?"He asked.He turned to the tiger and said ,"Unless I see you hidden in the load of grass,so that I may be sure that you are speaking the truth ,it is impossible for me to give judgment."
  The tiger ,who was hungry and anxious for his meal,ordered the grass-cutter to show the jackal exactly how he had been hidden.He told the grass-cutter to open the load of grass again and the tiger crept in as before and was tied up inside.
  Then said the judge,"I see now that you have spoken the truth.And as evil for good is the way of the jungle,I command this man to throw you into the deepest part of the river so that you may be drowned ."
  This the grass-cutter did joyfully and that was the end of the honourable tiger.
作者:dengniguilaicd 时间:2009-09-04 13:17:58
  学英语请到 www.niubi321.cn,更多惊喜等着你!
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-09 23:19:45
  门 On Door
  The opening and closing of doors are the most significant actions of man's life.What a mystery lies in doors!
  No man knows what awaits him when he opens a door.Ever the most familiar room,where the clock ticks and the hearth glows red at dusk,may harbour surprises.The plumber may actually have called (while you were out )and fixed that leaking faucet.The cook may have had a fit of the vapours and demanded her passports.The wise man opens his front door with humility and a spirit of acceptance.Which one of us has not sat in some anteroom and watched the inscrutable panels of a door that was full of meaning ?Perhaps you were waiting t apply for a job;perhaps you had some"deal"you were ambitious to put over.You watched the confidential stenographer flit in and out ,carelessly turning that mystic portal which,to you ,revolved on hinges of fate.And then the young woman said,"Mr.Cranberry will see you now."As you grasped the knob the thought flashed ,"When I open this door again,what will have happened?"
  There are many kinds of doors.Revolving doors for hotels,shops ,and public buildings.These are typical of the brisk,bustling ways of modern life.Can you imagine John Milton or William Penn skipping through a revolving door?Then there are the curious little slatted doors that still swing outside denatured bar-rooms and extend only from shoulder to knee.There are trapdoors,sliding doors,double doors,stage doors,prison doors,glass doors.But the symbol and mystery of a door resides in its quality of concealment.A glass door is not a door at all ,but a window.The meaning of a door is to hide what lies inside;to keep the heart in suspense.
  Also ,there are many ways of opening doors.There is the cheery push of elbow with which the waiter shoves open the kitchen door when he bears in your tray of supper.There is the suspicious and tentative withdrawal of a door before the unhappy book agent or peddler.There is the genteel and carefully modulated recession with which footmen swing wide the oaken barriers of the great .There is the sympathetic and awful silence of the dentist's maid who opens the door into the operating room,and without speaking ,implies that the doctor is ready for you .There is the brisk cataclysmic opening of a door when the nurse comes in ,very early in the morning -"It's a boy!"
  Doors are the symbol of privacy ,of retreat,of the mind's escape into blissful quietude or sad secret struggle.A room without doors is not a room,but a hallway.No matter where he is ,a man can make himself at home behind a closed door.The mind works est behind closed doors.Men are not horses to be herded together.Dogs know the meaning and anguish of doors .Have you ever noticed a puppy yearning at a shut portal?It is a symbol of human life.
  The opening of doors is a mystic act:it has in it some flavour of the unknown ,some sense of moving into a new moment,a new pattern of the human rigmarole.It includes the highest glimpses of mortal gladness:reunions,reconciliations,the bliss of lovers long parted.Even in sadness,the opening of a door ma bring relief:it changes and redistributes human forces.But the closing of doors in far more terrible.It is a confession of finality.Every door closed brings something to an end.And there are degrees of sadness in the closing of doors.A door slammed is a confession of weakness.A door gently shut is often the most tragic gesture in life.Every one knows the seizure of anguish that comes just after the closing of a door,when the loved one is still near,within sound of voice ,and yet already far away.
  The opening and closing of doors is a part of the stern fluency of life .Life will not stay still and let us alone.We are continually opening doors with hope ,closing them with despair.Life lasts not much longer than a pipe of tobacco,and destiny knocks us out like the ashes.
  The closing of a door is irrevocable.It snaps the pack -thread of the heart.It is no avail to reopen ,to go back.Pinero spoke nonsense when he made Paula Tanqueray say,"The future is only the past entered through another gate."Alas ,there is no other gate.When the door is shut ,it is shut forever.There is no other entrance to that vanished pulse of time."The moving finger writes,and having writ···."
  There is a certain kind of door-shutting that will come to us all.The kind of door-shutting that is done very quietly,with the sharp click of the latch to break the stillness.They will think then ,one hopes,of our unfulfilled decencies rather than of our pluperfected misdemeanours.Then they will go out and close the door.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-09 23:20:00
  门 On Door
  The opening and closing of doors are the most significant actions of man's life.What a mystery lies in doors!
  No man knows what awaits him when he opens a door.Ever the most familiar room,where the clock ticks and the hearth glows red at dusk,may harbour surprises.The plumber may actually have called (while you were out )and fixed that leaking faucet.The cook may have had a fit of the vapours and demanded her passports.The wise man opens his front door with humility and a spirit of acceptance.Which one of us has not sat in some anteroom and watched the inscrutable panels of a door that was full of meaning ?Perhaps you were waiting t apply for a job;perhaps you had some"deal"you were ambitious to put over.You watched the confidential stenographer flit in and out ,carelessly turning that mystic portal which,to you ,revolved on hinges of fate.And then the young woman said,"Mr.Cranberry will see you now."As you grasped the knob the thought flashed ,"When I open this door again,what will have happened?"
  There are many kinds of doors.Revolving doors for hotels,shops ,and public buildings.These are typical of the brisk,bustling ways of modern life.Can you imagine John Milton or William Penn skipping through a revolving door?Then there are the curious little slatted doors that still swing outside denatured bar-rooms and extend only from shoulder to knee.There are trapdoors,sliding doors,double doors,stage doors,prison doors,glass doors.But the symbol and mystery of a door resides in its quality of concealment.A glass door is not a door at all ,but a window.The meaning of a door is to hide what lies inside;to keep the heart in suspense.
  Also ,there are many ways of opening doors.There is the cheery push of elbow with which the waiter shoves open the kitchen door when he bears in your tray of supper.There is the suspicious and tentative withdrawal of a door before the unhappy book agent or peddler.There is the genteel and carefully modulated recession with which footmen swing wide the oaken barriers of the great .There is the sympathetic and awful silence of the dentist's maid who opens the door into the operating room,and without speaking ,implies that the doctor is ready for you .There is the brisk cataclysmic opening of a door when the nurse comes in ,very early in the morning -"It's a boy!"
  Doors are the symbol of privacy ,of retreat,of the mind's escape into blissful quietude or sad secret struggle.A room without doors is not a room,but a hallway.No matter where he is ,a man can make himself at home behind a closed door.The mind works est behind closed doors.Men are not horses to be herded together.Dogs know the meaning and anguish of doors .Have you ever noticed a puppy yearning at a shut portal?It is a symbol of human life.
  The opening of doors is a mystic act:it has in it some flavour of the unknown ,some sense of moving into a new moment,a new pattern of the human rigmarole.It includes the highest glimpses of mortal gladness:reunions,reconciliations,the bliss of lovers long parted.Even in sadness,the opening of a door ma bring relief:it changes and redistributes human forces.But the closing of doors in far more terrible.It is a confession of finality.Every door closed brings something to an end.And there are degrees of sadness in the closing of doors.A door slammed is a confession of weakness.A door gently shut is often the most tragic gesture in life.Every one knows the seizure of anguish that comes just after the closing of a door,when the loved one is still near,within sound of voice ,and yet already far away.
  The opening and closing of doors is a part of the stern fluency of life .Life will not stay still and let us alone.We are continually opening doors with hope ,closing them with despair.Life lasts not much longer than a pipe of tobacco,and destiny knocks us out like the ashes.
  The closing of a door is irrevocable.It snaps the pack -thread of the heart.It is no avail to reopen ,to go back.Pinero spoke nonsense when he made Paula Tanqueray say,"The future is only the past entered through another gate."Alas ,there is no other gate.When the door is shut ,it is shut forever.There is no other entrance to that vanished pulse of time."The moving finger writes,and having writ···."
  There is a certain kind of door-shutting that will come to us all.The kind of door-shutting that is done very quietly,with the sharp click of the latch to break the stillness.They will think then ,one hopes,of our unfulfilled decencies rather than of our pluperfected misdemeanours.Then they will go out and close the door.
作者:粉红猪猪爱学习 时间:2009-09-09 23:27:19
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-13 09:37:20
  好莱坞的三大谎言 Hollywood's Three Big Lies
  The America entertainment industry,which dominates popular culture here and throughout the world,appears to take perverse joy in presenting harsh,gritty and some times shocking material,even in movies made for children .Indeed ,filmmakers seem to go out of their way to assault the basic values of family and decency,to which most people remain deeply attached.
  No wonder that recent surveys reveal that an overwhelming majority of Americans feel Hollywood is out touch with their personal values .Yet when entertainment industry is challenged on these grounds,it denies the charges and justifies its excesses with three big lies:
  Lie No.1:"It's only entertainment-it doesn't influence anybody."
  I'm going to let you in on a secret:even Hollywood doesn't believe this.
  Jack Valenti,president of the Motion Picture Association of America,disagrees.During a debate with me ,he said that when his two children were younger,they watced a great deal of violent TV."They are now adults ,"Valenti said ,"and their integrity is preserved ,and their values are intact,and their standards of conduct.I think ,are pretty good."
  Everybody has heard some version of this argument,but it misses the point .Just because the media don't influence everybody doesn't mean they don't influence anybody.When an ad runs on TV, no one expects it will sell that product to everyone.Of the commercial influences just one out of a thousand people ,then it's considered a success.In the same way ,if TV and movies provoke just one out of a thousand people,then it's considered a success.In the same way ,if TV and movies provoke just one in a thousand to behave in the irresponsible ,destructive way that is too often glorified in the media,then those images have made a profound impact on society.
  Of course ,popular entertainment is not the only determinant of violent or promiscuous behavior.But evidence from more than 60 major university studies shows that prolonged exposure to violent images on television does lead to more hostile,violent and aggressive attituddes and behavior in real life.
  Lie No.2:"We just reflect reality.Don't blame us ;blame society."
  Paul Verhoeven ,the director of Robocop,Total Recall and Basic Instinct ,once defended his work by saying that as an artist,it is his hob t ohold a mirror up to nature."Art is a reflection of the world .If the world is horrible ,the reflection in the mirror is horrible."
  Really?If this were true,then why do so few people witness murders in real life but everybody sees them on TV and in movies? Most of us live in a much better world than the one depicted by the media.And while you are trying to lead a decent,restrained life,TV promulgates the notion that everybody else is having a wild ,debauched time and that you may be missing out .That is te true power if mass media-the power to redefine normal.
  Today ,television and movies have become a gigantic broken window to the world.The portrayal of life without standards and misbehavior without consequences sends the message that chaos reigns.For the moment ,our residual common sense and traditions are resisting .But how long can we hold out?
  Lie No.3:"We give the public what it wants.If people don't like it ,they can always turn it off."
  This argument is based on the common assumption that most Americans have a deep-seated craving and need for violent sex in the movies.But recent box-office returns prove that this is not the case .The most successful films of recent months -The Lion King,Forrest Gump,Apollo 13-have shown restraint in their use of sex and violence,and appealed powerfully to more traditional American values.
  The last part of the lie,which says"if you don't like it ,just shut it off,"has the same logic as the statement "If you don't like the smog,stop breathing."You may not listen to the pop singer Madonna.You never chose to put Madonna in your mind,but you certainly know who she is and what she stands for.Popular culture is everywhere ,like the air we breathe.That's why the messages of pop culture are an environmental issue.
  You can't escape the reach of popular culture.The sheer accumulation of this materical has a tremendous impact on our lives.
  That's why at time when we are demanding that corporations bear responsibility for polluting the air and water,at a time when the outcry against the harm from smoking in public has had results it is appropriate to demand that the entertainment conglomerates show greater accountability for polluting the cultural atmosphere that we all breathe.
  We are at a historic moment in media history,on when people in the industry are finally beginning to listen and to change.Disturbing elements will never entirely disappear -nor should they -but we do seem to be getting more family-friendly alternatives,and these need to be supported .In the future,we may even have a chance to enjoy a popular culture as rich,diverse and fundamentally decent as the people who live in this great country.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-13 15:21:19
  父亲的梦想 Dad's field of Dreams
  Last year's baseball season was miserable .In addition to the bitter aftertaste of the disastrous 1994 strike,the usual drug problems and the players' whining ,there were other embarrassments.It was bad enough that wealthy stars from the present and past sold their autographs.But several recently pleaded guilty to not paying taxes on this easy pocket money.
  Not everybody in baseball is a self-obsessed ,immature stiff,of course.There are exceptions,and here's one of them.
  "I left Chicago in 1980,"said business executive Richard Sturm,48,"and moved to Eugene,Oregon,to get away from the big city.I wanted to find a smaller town where people still cared about people."
  When Sturm's 80-year-old father died last July 4,he returned to the Midwest for the funeral.Harry Sturm had been a cellist for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra."He loved music and he loved baseball,"Sturm said."A quiet,nice guy."
  "Two days later my brother and I had to go into Chicago to tie up some loose ends.As we drove past Addison Street,we looked at each other and said ,'we're not that far,are we?"
  "So we doubled back and headed for one of Dad's favorite places.Ours too.We stopped,got out of the car and just started.We were kids again,full of excitement.We were standing in front of Wrigley Field."
  "Since there was no game that day,we decided to take a walk around the park and reminisce .As we were walking ,I pushed on an iron gate and it opened .I said to my brother,'Let's go.'"
  "We walked up the stairs ,and the field came into view.All the stories Dad had told us came rushing back.How ,when he was a boy ,he would show up at Wrigley to clean up the stands,put up seats and get into the game free.It was the only way he could afford to see a game."
  "I noticed a groundskeeper on the field.Thinking I had nothing to lose,I went over and told him why we were there and asked if we could walk on the outfield.He opened the gate and said,'Sorry about your dad.Make yourselves at home.'We couldn't believe it .We were kids again."
  "About 15 minutes later,Mike-that was this groundskeeper's name-walked toward us .I assumed we had overstayed our welcome."
  "But he said,'Here's a coule of game balls.I thought you might want to take them with you .'Then he said again ,'I'm sorry about your dad."
  "It didn't end there .When Mike's boss found out why we were there ,he suggested that we might like to sit in the dugout for a while."
  "Gosh,you sit in the dugout and you see the field and its dimensions like you've never seen them before.My brother said,'Look,the wind is blowing out .It's a home-run day.We were sitting where Ernie Banks used to sit.We could look up at the right-field bleachers,where my father caught a home run once."
  "We stayed for more than an hour.When we left,I tried to give Mike a couple of $20 bills.He said,'No way.'He and his boss wouldn't even let us buy them lunch."
  "They just said that it was nice to have friendly people come to the park.They were sorry it under these circumstances."
  "I was wrong back in 1980.You don't have to move to the country to find decent people.We'll probably never see Mike again,but I'll always consider him a friend."
  Maybe the team should take away Mike's rake and make him a coach.There's a lot he could teach the players.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-16 13:21:48
  圣诞奇迹 Miracle on Christmas Day
  Cold rain mixed with snow fell against the kitchen window of the house trailer in Elkins,W.Va.Melinda Eichelberger,seven months pregnant,pulled a tray of Christmas cookies from the oven.The frigid weather outside made the trailer a cozy haven on this night of December 23,1990.
  "Who wants a cookie?"Melinda called to Steve ,21,and their three-year-old daughter ,Brittany,in the next room.Brittany quickly popped around the corner,wearing only a nightshirt and underwear."I want one!"she said with a dimpled grin.
  Melinda,20,was taking time off from her restaurant job to catch up on Christmas baking .For once ,she wouldn't have to rise at dawn to work the early shift.Steve,laid off from his discount-store job the week before ,would also be home.
  Around midnight,Melinda wearily turned off the oven.Steve was already in bed;Brittany was curled up on the floor ,sound asleep.Their small Christmas tree twinkled brightly nearby.
  Melinda smiled down at her daughter.She looks so comfortable ,she thought ,I'll let her sleep here .Covering Brittany with a blanket,she kissed her cheek and went to bed.
  The clock read 9:33 a.m. when Melinda awoke with a start.Oh ,I don't have work today,she realized with relief.Then she noticed the house was unusually silent.
  "Brittany?"She called again.Melinda thought her daughter might be playing a joke .Two nights before ,Brittany and Steve had hidden in the hall closet and jumped out to surprise her.But the closet was empty and so was Brittany's bedroom.
  Melinda ran to wake Steve."I can't find Brittany!"she cried.Together,they searched the trailer.Then Melinda's eyes turned to the door-and the wintry landscape outside.
  "Oh dear God,"she said.Throwing on jackets,the couple rushed out the door.The cold wind took their breath away."Brittany!"they shouted ,racing up and down the row of trailers .Why didn't I wake up earlier?Melinda thought .Why didn't I hear her open the door?Please ,God ,don't let anything have happened to my baby.
  Then she spotted something between two trailers."Steve!"she shrieked.Brittany,still clad only in her underwear and nightshirt,was lying in the snow.Her eyes were frozen open ,wide and staring ,her mouth agape.With her face framed by soft blond curls,she looked like a porcelain doll.
  The phone rang in the Randolph County Emergency Squad room.Minutes later an emergency crew pulled up in front of the trailer.Brenda Dailey,a paramedic and registered nurse ,ran up the steps ,her heart racing.
  When her fingers touched Brittany's neck to check for a pulse,she gasped -the flesh was cold and hard.She's frozen solid!She thought in disbelief.Dailey moved the child to the floor and began CPR.
  A moment later paramedic Lora Eye and crew chief Delma Caudell rushed in with equipment .Caudell hooked up the child to a heart monitor."She's got a flat line,"she said grimly.As Steve turned away tearfully,Eye began chest compressions again.Please,God she prayed silently.It's Christmas Eve!
  The paramedics placed chemical hot packs on Brittany and then inserted a tube down her throat to force oxygen into her lungs.After they wrapped her with blankets and loaded her onto the stretcher ,Steve followed them to the ambulance.Assured that a neighbor would drive Melinda to the hospital,he climbed in and sirens began to wail.
  Dr.John Veach was on duty in the emergency room at Davis Memorial Hospital when Brittany arrived at 10:45 a.m. Her core temperature was 74 degrees Fahrenheit;her ice-glazed pupils were dilated and fixed.She had been in a deathlike state for at least 40minutes.
  After ordering a warm-water flush of the stomach,heated I.V. fluids ,adn warmed ,humidified oxygen,Veach asked Eye and Dailey to continue CPR.Until Brittany's blood thawed enough to circulate freely,the cardiac drugs they had administered would have little effect.
  For more than two hours ,in the stifling heat of the eight lamps trained on Brittany ,nurses and paramedics performed CPR.As the child's temperature approached 80 degrees with still no sign of life,the atmosphere in the emergency room grew increasingly tense.The unspoken thought hung in the air:It's time to give up.
  No one wanted to stop,however .Maybe it was because of the devastated young parents outside,or simply because it was Christmas Eve.They continued to fight -forcing the child's stilled heart to beat,her empty lungs to fill.
  At about 1 p.m.Lora Eye noticed blood and mucus trickling from Brittany's nose and mouth."Look!"she said excitedly."It's like she's starting to thaw!"Soon the heart monitor showed a subtle change-an uneven curve instead of a flat line.
  Melinda and Steve looked up fearfully when Veach walked in. "We've got your daughter's heart going again,"he said ."We're transferring her to Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh."
  At Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh,Dr. Shekhar Venkataraman,a paediatric intensive-care intensive-care physician,received word that a toddler with severe cold injuries was being airlifted in .The doctor shook his head;such tragedies were always wrenching.There was one positive factor,however:severe cold injuries sometimes have surprising outcomes.
  When Brittany arrived at 4:30 p.m.,Venkataraman tried to assess the child's neurological condition.She didn't respond even to painful stimuli,and her pupils didn't react to light.
  Melinda and Steve,who had been driven to Pittaburgh by relatives,rushed into the hospital two hours later."Your daughter's on a respirator,and her heart rate and blood pressure are becoming stabilized,"Venkataraman told them,"but she's still very cold -only 84 degrees.We won't be able to run an EEG to evaluate her brain activity until she's a lot warmer."
  As dusk fell on Christmas Eve ,the couple began a silent vigil at their daughter's bedside.Melinda's eyes blurred with tears as she looked at Brittany's face ,so beautiful and so still.Please,God,she prayed ,let her be okay.Then ,early Christmas morning ,the toddler's eyes suddenly fluttered open."Brittany?"Melinda said breathlessly."Can you hear me ?"the eyes closed again,but Melinda was certain she had understood."She's going to be okay,"she told Steve excitedly."I just know it!"
  The next afternoon,Venkataraman and several nurses gathered around Brittany's bed in the ICU .As Melinda waited nearby ,they carefully slid the respirator tube from Brittany's throat.She coughed and gagged for a moment,then began to cry and call out,"Mommy,Mommy!"
  Melinda rushed to Brittany's bedside.As she tearfully kissed her daughter,the doctor and nurses watched with wide grins .The Christmas they had missed in a torment of doubt and despair had finally come ,bearing the priceless gift of a child's life renewed.
  Today Melinda and Steve still shake their heads when they recall the Christmas Eve their precious little girl was lost,then miraculously restored."It didn't seem possible that she'd ever wake up,"Melinda says."But getting her back was the greatest Christmas gift of my life!"
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-09-19 14:50:56
  秋之歌 Song of Autumn
  It all hapens so quickly:the days turning shorter ,the leaves going red on the dogwood tree,the sunlight slanting through the windows at different angle.Then one day you notice that the garden seems quite still.And you're aware that your summer clothes feel all wrong-the colors too light,the shoes too bare.Porches start to look emptier,and the air is no longer as fragrant with the smell of steaks sizzling on a grill.
  If we listen carefully,we can almost hear the sound of a door closing.As it swings shut,we catch our last glimpse of the brilliant light of that high,bold season we call summer.
  Officially,summer isn't over until late September,but for most of us the fall season begins just after Labor Day.It begins with putting away bathing suits that smell of chlorine and getting out sweaters and jackets.It begins with the kids going back to school,with packing lunches and driving in car pools.It begins with saying "Hurry or we'll be late"a dozen times a day.
  It begins with loading the car with stereos and clothes and beanbag chairs and driving your teen-ager off to a new life in some distant dormitory.It begins with coming back to your teen-ager's empty room and wondering where the years went.It begins with noticing how early the dark comes on and how ,after dinner,the streets are no longer filled with sounds of children playing.
  If you're like me ,fall begins with the melancholy feeling that something has been lost.I've had this feeling since I was a child,and I can pinpoint its origins.I was tight years old and home the first week of school with a strep throat.Suddenly,a man's voice started singing on the radio next to my bed:"Oh,the days dwindle down to a precious few-September,November!..."
  I didn't know who was singing or what the song was -years later I learned it was "September Song"-but I knew it was about loss,and it made me sad.It still does.
  Maybe the sadness is the dim recognition that there are a finite number of summers and falls left in your life.An elderly friend tells me that some years ago she began numbering the seasons.It helps her to understand that each one is unique.This year marks her 85th changing of summer into fall.
  I thought about this the other evening as I watered my garden.In the half-light of evening ,with the last of summer all around me,I wanted to extend my arms and catch the warmth and the breeze and the flowers and draw it all inside myself ,where it could live for ever.
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-10-11 23:42:44
  Learning to Lead 领导的艺术
  Early in my army career I was assigned to Fort Benning,Ga.,and dispatched on a month-long course of advanced airborne training .One night we had to parachute from a helicopter after completing a day long arch.It was windy and puring rain,and we were exhausted.
  I was the senior officer on board.Through the roar of the helicopter engine,I hollered for everyone to double-check the static lines,the wires ,hooked to a floor cable ,that would open the chutes when we jumped .Nearing the jump site,I yelled to check the hookups again.
  Finally,like an old fussbudget,I started pushing through the crowded bodies,checking each line myself.To my alarm,one hook was loose,I shoved the dangling line in the man's face .He gasped.This guy would have stepped of the helicopter and dropped like a rock.
  The fellow practically blubbered his gratitude.The lesson is clear.Moments of stress,confusion and fatigue are exactly when mistakes happpen.When everyone else is distracted ,the leader must be doubly vigilant."Always check the small things "became one of my rules.
  In my 35-year career with the Army,I learned a lot about leadership.These lessons served me well as a second lieutenant,just as they did much later when I became Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,the nation's highest-ranking military officer.Indeed I think the 'rules' of leadership are surprisingly the same for everyone .Whether you are leading a military unit ,a corporate staff or a Little League team.Make the difficult decisions.Being in charge means making decisions,mo matter how painful.If it's broke ,fix it .A leader cannot make the majority suffer under a bad situation to spare the feelings of an individual.Don't punish every mistake.Nobody ever got to the top without slipping up.When someone stumbles,I don't believe in stomping on him.My philosophy is :pick'em up,dust'em off and get'em moving again.Have clear objectives.Our large strategy for Vietnam never got much clearer over the years,leading to our failure a decade later.Leaders must establish clear,achievable objetives and apply the means to accomplish those objectives,or they are just wasting time ,resources and ,tragically,lives.Make your team feel important.Find ways to reach down and touch everyone in a unit.Make individuals feel important and part of something larger than themselves.Be skeptical of experts.Don't be buffaloed by experts.They often possess more data than judgment.And never beat down enthusiasm.During my years in the field,I learned what makes American soldiers tick.They will gripe about being driven to high performance .They will swear they would rather be somewhere else.But at the end of the day,they always ask proudly,"How'd we do?"Americans love to win.They respect leaders who hold them to a high standard and take them to the limit-as long as they see a worthwhile objective.
作者:天天与一一 时间:2009-10-12 08:50:24
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-10-12 13:46:40
  Campus Comedy 校园幽默
  1、Map reading was our topic in one earth-science class at Old Dominion University in Norfolk,Va. The teacher explained latitude,longitude,degrees and minutes ,then asked ,"Suppose I asked you to meet me for lunch at 23 degrees,4 minutes north latitude and 45 degrees ,15 minutes east longitude..."
  After a confused silence,a voice volunteered,"I guess you'd be eating alone."
  2、Graduation ceremonies at bowling Green State University in Ohio take place in the football stadium.Each graduate is grouped by college and sits with others of similar majors .In that way ,the colleges can be recognized without calling out hundreds of individual names.
  Although I was in the college of Arts &Sciences,I chose to sit with friends who were education majors.When our president announced the College of Arts & Sciences ,the group stood and cheered.So did I,from my seat among the education graduates.
  "Look at that ,"said the president,motioning in my direction."Four years of college and still undecided."
  3、During my senior year at Bucknell University in Lewisburg ,Pa. ,I developed a sore throat and went to the college infirmary,where a doctor determined that I had contracted the "flu of the week."Instead of prescribing medication,he advised:"Eat three square meals a day,get plenty of sleep and don't drink alcohol."
  When i relayed this to my roommate,he asked in astonishment,"Doesn't the doctor realize you're in college."
  4、During finals at Purdue University in West Lafayette,Ind., test papers were being distributed to the class.After conferring with a nervous assistant,the professor spoke."There's a problem,"he said."One of you has the answer key instead of the test."Reaching into his billfold ,he continued,"If you identify yourself,this five dollar bill is yours."
  A young man raised his hand,and the professor walked toward him."Wait a minute,"shouted another student."I'll give you fifty."
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-10-14 23:27:47
  夏日游戏 Summer Games
  Outside ,in our childhood summers-the war.The summers of 1939 to '45.I was six and finally twelve;and the war was three thousand miles to the right where London,Warsaw,Cologne crouched huge,immortal under nights of bombs or ,farther,to the left where our men (among them three cousins of mine )crawled over dead friends from foxhole to foxhole towards Tokyo or ,terribly ,where there were children (our age,our size )starving,fleeing ,trapped ,stripped ,abandoned.
  Far off as it was,still we dreaded each waking hour that the war might arrive on us.A shout would ring in the midst of our play,freezing us in the knowledge that here at last were the first Storm Troopers till we thought and looked-Mrs.Hightower's Ford.And any plane passing overhead after dark seemed pregnant with black chutes ready to blossom.There were hints that war was nearer than it seemed - swastikaed subs off Hatteras or the German sailor's tattered corpse washed up at Virginia Beach with a Norfolk movie ticket in his pocket.
  But of course we were safe.Our elders said that daily.Our deadly threats were polio,being hit by a car ,drowning in pure chlorine if we swam after eating .No shot was fired for a hundred miles.(Fort Bragg-a hundred miles.).We had excess food to shame us at every meal ,excess clothes to fling about us in the heat of play.So,secure ,guilty ,savage,we invoked war to us by games which were rites.
  All our games ended desperately.Hiding ,Prisoner's Base,Sling-Statue ,Snake in Gutter,Giant Step,Kick the Can .We would start them all as friends ,cool ,gentle enough;but as we flung on under monstrous heat ,sealed in sweat and dirt ,hearts thudding, there would come a moment of pitch when someone would shout "Now war !"and it would be war -we separating,fleeing for cover,advancing in stealth on one another in terror,inflicting terror,mock death,surrender,till evening came and the hand of the day relaxed above us and cool rose from the grass and we sank drained into calm again,a last game of Hide in the dusk among bitter-smelling lightning bugs,ghost stories on the dark porch steps;then bath,bed ,prayers for forgiveness and long life,sleep.
  Only once did we draw real blood in our games;and I was the cause,the instrument at least.One August afternoon we had gone from,say,Tag into War.It was me ,my cousins Marcia and Pat ,and a Negro boy named Walter(who played with us for a quarter a week )against older,rougher boys.They massed on the opposite side of the creek that split the field behind our house .We had gathered magnolia seed pods for hand grenades,but as the charge began and swept toward us ,as Madison Cranford leapt the creek and came screaming at me .He ceased being Madison(a preacher's son),the game ceased,the day rose in me .I dropped my fake grenade,stooped,blindly found a stone (pointed flint )and before retreating,flung it .My flight was halted by sudden silence behind me .I turned and by the creek on the ground in a huddle of boys was Madison,flat,still,eyes shut,blood streaming from the part in his sweaty hair,from a perfect circle in the skin which I had made Walter,black and dry and powdered with dust,knelt by the head and the blood and looking through the day and the distance,said to me ,"What ails you,boy?You have killed this child."
  I had not ,of course.He lived ,never went to bed though a doctor did see him and pass on to us the warning that ,young as we were ,we were already deadly.My rock an inch farther down in Madison's temple would have done the work of a bullet -death.Death was ours to give ,mine.
  The warning was passed through my mother that night when she came from the Cranfords',having begged their pardon,and climbed to my room where I feigned sleep in a walnut bed under photographs of stars.I "woke "with a struggle,raising myself from fake drowned depths,lay flat as she spread covers round me and heard her question launched,tense but gentle ,"Why on earth did you throw a rock when everyone else was playing harmless?"What I suddenly knew I held back from her-that the others were not playing harmless,were as bent on ruin as I but were cowards,had only not yet been touched hard enough by hate.So I blamed the summer."It was so hot I didn't know I had a rock.I was wild ,for a minute .I will try not to do it again next summer."She said "Ever again"and left me to sleep which,tried as I was ,did not come at once.
  I lay in half dark (my sacred familiar objects crouched in horror from me against my walls )and thought through the lie I had told to save my mother-that summer was to blame.Then I said aloud as a promise (to my room,to myself),"I will tame myself.When the war is over and I am a man,it will all be peace ,be cool.And when it is not ,when summer comes,we will go to the water-my children and I and play quiet games in the cool of the day.In the heat we will rest,separate o cots,no touching but smiling,watching the hair grow back on our legs."Then sleep came unsought,untroubled to seal that further lie had told to hide from myself what I knew even then -that I was not wrong to blame the summer,not wholly wrong;that wherever summer strikes (its scalding color),even in years of relative peace,something thrusts from the earth ,presses from the air,compresses that in us which sets us wild against ourselves,in work ,in games ,in worst of all our love.Summer is the time wars live ,thrive,on
楼主轩尼狮 时间:2009-10-16 09:38:36
  改变人生得三个字 Three Words That Can Change Your Life
  The most important messages that humans deliver to one another often come in just three words .Think of "I love you "or "There's no charge "or "And in conclusion."
  One of the phrases that I've found most useful is this :"I'll be there ."
  I'll be there.If you've ever had to call a plumber over a week-end,you know how good these words can feel.If you've heard them after being stranded on the road with car trouble and used you lat quarter to call a friend ,you've known the feeling too.
  "Grandma,I'm graduating in June!"I'll be there .
  "Honey,I'm stuck at the office and can't get to the airport to meet my sister!"I'll be there .
  "Mom,the baby cries all night,and if I don't get some sleep I'll perish!"I'll be there.
  One person who really knows how to "be there "is Elizabeth,the Queen Mother of England.During the Blitz on London in 1940,she was asked whether the little princesses,Elizabeth and Margaret Rose ,would leave England for their safety.The queen replied.
  "The children will not leave unless I do .I shall not leave unless their father does,and the king will not leave the country in any circumstances whatever." I'll be there .
  Another important three-word phrase is one of the hardest to learn to say-I know it was for me .It is :Maybe you're right.
  If more people would say "maybe you're right ,"the marriage counselors would go out of business.I know from experience it can have a disarming effect in an argument.When we're so hung up on getting our own way that we won't concede on any point ,we do ourselves a real disservice.
  I must have heard the next phrase a thousand times when I was a little girl and faced a hard decision.Turning to my nanny,I'd ask what I should do .Her response wasa always the same:Your heart knows
  "My heart knows?"I would grumble."What's that supposed to mean?I need advice here .I need you to tell me what to do ."
  She would just smile and say,"Your heart knows ,honey.Your heart knows."
  But I was an imperious child .I would throw my hand on my hip and say,"Maybe so ,but my heart isn't talking!"
  To this she would respond ,"Learn to listen."
  People may suggest what we should do ,but for the most part no one will accept responsibility for our mistakes.We have to make our own choices.That's when we need to listen.Your heart knows.
  Psychologists call this "turning in to ourselves."Spiritual leaders call it "turning to a higher power."Whatever you call it ,your have the ability to find the right answers for your life.It's a powerful gift -but you have to learn to use it .
  It took me a long time,but I learned that life doesn't come with a plan.To some extent the page is blank.You may have a rough outline of where you are going ,but you won't get there without making some tough decisions.To this end,you may find these simple ,yet profound ,words helpful:
  I'll be there.
  Maybe you're right.
  Your heart knows.
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