【英语口语培训】英语范文背诵精选.doc

阳 朔 新 起 点 英 文 书 院Yangshuo New Start English CollegeA perfect wife A great many people, when they speak of home, tend to associate it with a certain atmosphere, certain physical surroundings, and certain emotional attitudes within themselves. This sentimentality toward home is something that has come down to us from the past. Many modern people do not have it, and I think it is a good thing that they do not. In the old days life was difficult. Enemies could attack you and kill or rob you, and you had little protection against them. People did not live in well-built houses where doors could be locked. They did not have the protection of an organized police force or telephones which could summon the police instantly. How did this influence the way people felt about home? Small family groups clung tightly together for protection against beasts and against other men. Only the bravest went beyond the small family area. Even in the Middle Ages only the most daring went to lands beyond sea. The human pursuit of security conditioned men to love their homes. I am sure that this feeling must have been very strong among the early settlers of the United States who were obliged, by famine and oppression, to take the plunge and go to the new land where they knew no one and where they were subject to Indian attack. We can see this even today in the attitudes of minority groups who, because of a feeling of insecurity, still preserve cohesive family ties. Today, thanks to modern transportation and well-organized societies, thousands of people willingly and eagerly leave the surroundings where they were born, and the oftener they do so, the less sentiment they are likely to have for those surroundings. I lived in England for three years, and I noticed that boys and girls left their parents homes and lived in dwellings of their own. There they could just telephone and ask an agency to provide them with a house or an apartment, which was their home. How has the meaning of this word home been altered by such activity? What does home mean to those people or to families who often move about, living in first one hotel and then another? I believe that for them home means a place where they can have privacy. This idea of home as being a place of privacy is emerging in my country, Saudi Arabia, where the young are abandoning their parents homes to live their own life. As for me, the atmosphere and surroundings of the place where my parents live have no sentimental attachment. Home is where I can shut the door and be by myself. At the moment it is a room in Eaton Hall. When I left my parents several years ago, I was anxious to leave. You might call it unfeeling, but that was the way I felt. On the day of my departure for the United States, my grandmother sobbed and wept. My father, however, indicated that he understood how I felt. “Son,” he said, “I am not sorry that you are leaving us. I only hope that you make the most of your time.Please let me have a little worldPlease let me have a little world,please my dear husband.Be so generous as to Let me have a little of my own.If you find me scrawling on a piece of newspaper.please dont piple over my shoulders.It may be that Im inventing some paintful feelings long denied description,or trying to compose a little poem.Not yet for the time being,or attempting to scrath out something visual lights from my childhood memories.Which glows my mind like ribble. When Im in such mood.Please leave me alone,and let me write as the pen dictates. Dont disturb me,my dear.When I get this starter over some old photos,or letters which bring tears to my eyes,or smiles on my lips.For those things happen to me before I met you. The joys and sorrows,partings and reunions that taste like green oil or glitter like scattered purls. They my cherished memories which ready as I am sure with you . I would like to endow in by myself for a while,I hope you wont mind when I go with out you for a nice chat with the close friends of mine.You are my bursy friends.But you can not take the place of other friends any more than they can do yours.I need their care ,encouragement and so bring criticisms just I do yours.A star sky with the salitary blue will bedowe uncherish .Why not let them be a move at night with splendid twin stars.I mean occasionally want to make a tour far away places.Please dont hold back when I start packing for it .You are the center of my life.But certainly not the whole of it.I ear to see mistrys and wonders the world miles away be on the mountains .So let me have a chance to explore my alsess wonder minds as a lone riger.Sometime later,When I come back to you with exhaust,experiences and fresh insights. Im sure you will look me in a new light.My dear husband ,So long as you let me have such a little little world .Ill be very much indentitle.Males and females roles In all societies, male and female roles are regarded differently. The mother role is universally carried out by women, which is biologically based. Roles defined by sex also characterize the economic sphere so that the tasks men perform are different from those women perform. This difference is not any outgrowth of the biological differences between men and women. A specific task may be associated with men in one society and with women in another. Milking herd animals, for example, may be womens task in some societies and a mans task in others. Males and females are each associated with different kinds of behavior. These concepts of male and female behavior extended to how people walk, sit, talk and dress. In our society, as in all others, men walk and talk in certain ways and until recently dressed very differently from women. In some societies, different spatial areas are associated with males and females. Women in many Middle Eastern societies are restricted to certain parts of the house and may only come into contact with the males who are members of their family. In such societies, the coffee house and the market are defined as male domains. In contrast, in some West African societies, women most often appear in the marketplace. Sometimes, men choose to carry out female rather than male roles. In some cases, some men dress like women and perform female tasks. On the other hand, females who carry out male roles usually dress and act like men. Because of womens association with mothering and the home, women are associated with the domestic affairs and men are associated with the public affairs. In a number of New Guinea societies, men are associated with the mens house in which they eat and sleep while women are associated with their own dwelling houses. In our own and other Western societies this division was true until the beginning of the 20th century. Politics, the courts, businesses, banks, and so forth were male areas, and so too were the social clubs where real business was carried out. At the beginning of the 20th century, women began to question the assignment of the male and female role. They formed social groups and began to demand the right to vote. They began to move into the business and professional worlds as well. Men regarded the women pioneers in this movement as very manlike. Even today women in business, law or banking wear very tailored, conservative suits to work. As these changes occur in female roles in contemporary American society, men are increasingly taking on child care and domestic tasks.Freedom in dying The process of dying imbues fewer and fewer choices available to us. Even in dying, however, we still have choices concerning how we handle what is happening to us. The following account deals with the dying of Jim Molock, a student and close friend of mine. Jim is 25 years old. He is full of life, witty, bright, honest, and actively questioning. He had just graduated from college as a human service major, and seemed to have a bright future when his illness was discovered. About a year and a half and ago, Jim developed a lump on his forehead and underwent surgery to have it removed. At that time, his doctors believed that it was not a cancer .later, more tumors appeared and more surgery followed. Several months ago, Jim found out that the tumors had spread throughout his body and that even with treatment, he would have a short life. Since that time he has steadily grown weaker, and has been able to do less and less, yet he has shown remarkable courage in the way he has faced this loss and his dying. Some time ago, Jim came to California, and took part in a weekend seminar that I had with a review of this book. On this chapter, he commented that, “although we may not have choices concerning the losses we suffer in dying, we do retain the ability to choose our attitude toward our death. Jim has taught me a lot during these past few months, about this enduring capacity for choice. Even in extreme circumstances. Jim has made many critical choices since being told of his illness. He chose to continue taking a course of the university because he liked the contact with the people there. He worked hard as a but dog to support himself. He decided to undergo treatment even though he knew that it most likely would not result in his cure because he heard that it would reduce his pain. It did not. And Jim has suffered much agony during the past few months. He decided not to undergo chemical treatment, because he didnt want to prolong his life if he couldnt really live fully. He made a choice to accept god and his life, which gave him a full sense of peace. Before he became bedridden, he decided to go to Hawaii, and enjoy his time in luxury. Jim has always disliked hospitals, so he chose to remain at home in more personal surroundings, as long as he was able, he read widely, and continued to write in his diary about his thoughts and feelings on living and dying. With his friends, he played his guitar, and sang songs that he had written. He maintained an active interest in life and in the things around him without denying the fact that he was dying. More than anyone I have known or heard about, Jim has taken care of unfinished business, he made it a point to gather his family and tell them his wishes. He made contact with all his friends and said everything he wanted to say to them, he clearly stated his desire for cremation, he wants to burn those shamans, and then have his ashes scattered over the sea, a wish that reflects his love of freedom and movement. Jim has very little freedom and movement now, for he can do little but lie in his bed wait for his death to come. To this day, he has chosen to die with dignity, and although his body is getting weaker and weaker, his spirit is still very much alive. He retains his mental sharpness, his ability to say a lot in very few words and his sense of humor. He has allowed himself to grief over his losses, as he puts it, “I sure like to hang around to enjoy all those people that love me.” Realizing that this is impossible, Jim is saying goodbye to all those who are close to him. Throughout his suffering, Jims mother has been truly great. When she told me how remarkle Jim has been in complaining so rarely despite his constant pain. I reminded her that I never heard her complain during her month of caring for him. I have been continually amazed by her strength and courage. And I have admired her willingness to honor Jims wishes and accept his beliefs, even though at times, they have differed from her own. Jim has been showing me that his style of dying would be no different from his style of living. By his example and by his words, Jim has taught me how to evaluate my own life.Love of Life Two men walked slowly, one after the other, through the low water of a river. It ran cold over their feet. They had blanket packs on their backs; guns, but no bullets; matches, but no food. Suddenly the man behind fell over a stone, hurt his foot badly and called: Hey, Bill, Ive hurt my foot. Bill continued without looking back. The man was alone but not lost in the empty land. He knew the way to camp, and its food and bullets. He struggled to his feet and limped on. He had not eaten for two days. He picked some small round, tasteless fruits. They did not satisfy, but he knew he must eat them. In the evening he built a fire and slept like a dead man. When he woke up, he took out a small bag weighing fifteen pounds. He wasnt sure he could carry it any longer. But he couldnt leave it behind. He had to take it with him. He put it back into his pack, rose to his feet and continued. His foot hurt, but it was nothing compared with his hunger, which made him go on until darkness fell. His blanket was wet, but he knew only he was hungry. In his troubled sleep, he dreamed of rich meals. He woke up cold, sick and lost; the small bag was still with him. As he pulled himself along, the bag became heavier and heavier. He opened the bag, full of small pieces of gold. He left half the gold on a rock. 1. _ Eleven cold, rainy days passed. Once he found some animal bones with no meat on them. He broke them and ate them like an animal. Would he, too, be bones tomorrow? Why not? This was life. Only life hurt. There was no hurt in death. To die was to sleep. Then why was he not ready to die? He, as a man, no longer desired. Life in him, unwilling to die, drove him on. One morning he woke up beside a river. Slowly he followed it with his eyes and saw it emptying into a shining sea. When he saw a ship, he closed his eyes. He knew there could be no ship, no sea, here. An imagined picture, he thought. Hearing a noise, he turned around. A wolf（狼）, old and sick, was coming slowly toward him. This was real, he thought. He turned back; the sea and the ship were still there. He didnt understand. Had he been walking north, away from the camp, toward the sea? He started slowly toward the ship, knowing full well the sick wolf was following him. In the afternoon, he found the bones of a man. Beside the bones was a small bag of gold, like his own. Bill had carried his gold to the end; he would carry Bills gold to the ship. Ha-ha! He would have the last laugh on Bill. His laughing sounded like the low cry of an animal. The wolf cried back. The man stopped suddenly and turned away. How could he laugh about Bills bones and take his gold? 2. _ 3. _ He was very sick, now. He inched about on hands and knees, having lost everything his blanket, his gun, and his gold. Only the wolf stayed with him hour after hour. At last he could go no further. He fell. The wolf came close to him, but the man was ready. He got on top of the wolf and held its mouth closed and bit it with his last strength. The wolfs blood flowed into his mouth. He held the wolf with his teeth and killed it; then he fell on his back and slept. 4. _ 5. _ The men on the ship saw a strange object lying on the beach. It was moving toward them perhaps twenty feet an hour. They went to look and could hardly believe it was a man. Three weeks later, when he felt better, he told them his story. But there was one strange thing: he feared there wasnt enough food on the ship. They also noticed he was getting fat. They gave him less food, but still he grew fatter with each day. Then one day they saw him put some bread under his shirt. They searched his bed and found food under his blanket. They understood.How to grow old by Bertrand Russell 1、In spite of the title, this article will really be on how not to grow old,which,at my time of life,is a much more important subject.My first advice would be to choose your ancestors.My maternal grandfather,it is true,was cut off in the flower of his youth at the age of sixty-seven,but my other three grandparents all lived to be over eighty.Of remoter ancestors I can only discover one who did not live to a great age,and he died of a disease which is now rare,namely,having his head cut off. 2、A great grandmother of mine,who was a friend of Gibbon,lived to the age of ninety-two,and to her last day remained a terror to all her descendants.My maternal grandmother,after having nine children who survived,one who died in infancy,and many miscarriages,as soon as she became a widow,devoted herself to womans higher education.She was one of the founders of Girton College,and worked hard at opening the medical profession to women.She used to relate how she met in Italy an elder gentleman who was looking very sad.She inquired the cause of his melancholy and he said that he had just parted from his two grandchildren.Good graciousshe exclaimed,I have seventy-two grandchildren,and if I were sad each time I parted from one of them,I should have a dismal existence!Mdaresnaturale,he replied.But speaking as one of the seventy-two,I perfer her recipe.After the age of eighty she found she had some diffculty in getting to sleep,so she habitually spent the hours from midnight to 3 a.m. in reading popular science.I do not believe that she ever had time to notice that she was growing old.This,I think,is proper recipe for remaining young.If you have wide and keen interests and activities in which you can still be effective,you will have no reason to think about the merely statistical fact of the number of years you have already lived,still less of the probable brevity of you future. 3、As regards health I have nothing useful to say since I have little experience of illness.I eat and drink whatever I like,and sleep when I can not keep awake.I never do anything whatever on the ground that it is good for health,though in actual fact the things I like doing are mostly wholesome. 4、Psychologically there are two dangers to be guardsed against in old age.One of these is undue absorption in the past.It does not do to live in memories,in regrets for the good old days,or in sadness about friends who are dead.Ones thoughts must be directe