英语美文收集

　 Love and friendship Both are so much related to each other. And both are so dissimilar! What are the differences between friendship and love? Is platonic friendship possible between persons of opposite sex? Let us try and understand. What is friendship? Why do we call a person our friend? When do we call someone a very good friend? If we care for a person, if we are always ready to help that person and if we share most of our thoughts with a person, they are our good friends. We can always count upon our good friends in an emergency. We are always sure that our friend will understand why we acted in a certain way. We need not explain anything to our very good friends. The friendship is so deep and the relationship is so intimate, that most of the things are automatically understood by our friends.What about love? In a relationship of deep love, all the sharing that we discussed above are taken for granted. But love transcends all this. During love, we are attached with a particular person, while in friendship, one may have many friends. A loving relationship makes one so much attached to the other, that one gets pained if his/her beloved is hurt! Love also involves a physical element. Friendship does not have that. This is a vital difference. Nature gives us love so that the specie can go forward. Nature does not give us friendship.Your heart beats will never increase in anticipation of meeting your friend. You will not lie awake at night thinking about your friend. You will not feel totally lost, if you don't meet your friend for a few days. You will not have dreams in your eyes thinking about your friend. But in love, you will do all this and much more. Indeed, there is no comparison between love and friendship.英语美文赏析：机遇在于生活的细节 机遇就存在于生活的细节中。同样的一件事，一个成功的人会看得更多更远……John and Bobby joined a wholesale company togther just after graduation from college the same year. Both worked very hard. After several years, however, the boss promoted Bobby to the posotion of manager but John remained an ordinary employee. John could not take it anymore, tendered his resignation to the boss and complained the boss did not know how to delegate and did not value hard working staff, but only promoted those who flattered him.约翰和博比同年大学毕业后，被同一家批发公司录用。他们二人工作都很努力。然而，几年后，老板提拔博比为部门经理，而约翰还是一名普通员工。约翰再也无法忍受，冲动之下写了一封辞职信，并抱怨老板不会用人，不重用那些敬业的员工，只提升那些奉承他的人。The boss knew that John worked very hard for the years. He thought for a moment and said, "Thank you for your criticism, but I have a request. I hope you will do one more thing for our company before you leave. Perhaps you will change your mind and take back your resignation."老板知道这几年约翰工作确实很努力。他想了一会儿说：“谢谢你对我的批评。但是我只有一个请求，我希望在你离开之前再为公司做一件事情。或许到时你会改变决定，收回辞呈。”John agreed. The boss asked him to go and find out anyone selling watermelon in the market. John went and returned soon. He said he had found out a man selling watermelon. The boss asked how much per kg? John shook his head and went back to the market to ask and returned to inform the boss $1.2 per kg.约翰答应了。

　老板让他去市场找到一个卖西瓜的人。约翰去了并很快回来。他说他找到了一个卖西瓜的人。老板问他每公斤多少钱？约翰摇摇头，回到市场去问，然后又回来告诉老板每公斤1.2美元。Boss told John to wait a second, and he called Bobby to come to his office. He asked Bobby to go and find anyone seling watermelon in the market. Bobby went, returned and said, boss, only one person selling watermelon. $1.2 per kg, $10 for 10kg, he has inventory of 340 melons. On the table 58 melons, every melon weights about 2 kg, bought from the South two days ago, they are fresh and red, good quality.老板让约翰等一会儿，这时他把博比叫到办公室。他让博比去市场找到一个卖西瓜的人。博比去了，回来之后说：“老板，只有一个卖西瓜的人，每公斤1.2美元，每10公斤卖10美元。这个人一共有340个西瓜，其中58个放在货架上，每个西瓜重约2公斤，都是两天前从南方运来的，新鲜，红瓤，质量好。”John was very impresed and realized the difference between himself and Bobby. He decided not to resign but to learn from Bobby.约翰受到很大的触动，他意识到自己与博比之间的差距。他决定收回辞呈并向博比学习。My dear friends, a more successful person is more observant, thinks more and explores in depth. Chances exists in the daily details. For the same matter, a more successful person sees more and farther so that he can find out an opportunity and catch it to realize his aim. If a person sees one year ahead, while another sees only tomorrow. The difference between a year and a day is 365 times, how could you win?亲爱的朋友们，成功的人更善于观察，勤于思考和孜孜探求。机遇就存在于生活的细节中。同样的一件事，一个成功的人会看得更多更远。有人看到一年后的情景，而你只看到明天。一年与一天的差距是365倍，你怎么能赢呢？Life is the greatest teacher As I look across the horizon at the faces of the young people around me, I weep. A once proud part of the human race, the younger generation has been described as lazy, overemotional, and disrespectful. I myself used to have all three of these characteristics. Not when I was an adventure-seeking, rambunctious toddler, but as an older high school teenager.It was at this stage that my foolish rascal tendencies were at their highest. I would constantly complain, care for my friends more than my family, and in general would just talk all the time.Then came a moment when I wondered where I would end up. Would I remain on track to becoming a doctor like my parents wanted? Am I just going to keep acting like a child for the rest of my life?This moment would serve as the spark that set in motion a process of learning life lesson, molding me into the person you're reading through your computer screen.Since then, I've learned a great many things, but these are the lessons that I wished I'd stumbled upon earlier:1. Everyone's opinion matters only as much as you want them to.There was a time when everyone's opinion was mine as well. Whatever preferences I formerly held were dashed in the face of another's. This most likely came from a need to please others.Remember that your opinion matters just as much as the next guy's, whether they make more money than you or are less popular than you. Everyone's opinion holds the same weight.2. Your emotions are under your control.Drama, chaos, and emotional unrest — these were what took up most of my time as a teenager. When everyone's obsessed with what's in and what's not, tempers flare; mine mostly.If I had heard someone said rotten things behind my back, I'd erupt. Go crazy. Looking back on those tantrums now, I'm not too surprised. After all, when you have little self control, anything is possible.The lessons here is, remain aware of how you react.3. Arguments are pointless.Will one small quarrel among friends decide the fate of the entire universe? In my world it felt like it. I just wanted so much to be right and for them so much to be wrong. But in the end, it only resulted in me wasting my time and in the other person storming off in frustration.Is there really a point to arguing? Unless it's absolutely necessary, I've learned that it's better to hold your breath on things you can't control at all.Arguing to change someone's mind is one of them.4. Your parents only want what's best for you.I'm not saying every parent wants what's best for you (there are outliers), but in general, parents do what they do for you in your best interest.My parents used to make me do the dishes, cook dinner, sweep the floors, mow the lawn, take out the garbage… the list goes on and on. And at every turn, I'd whine and complain. I'd eventually end up doing it.Now, I honestly see the value in having learned those skills. I can efficiently cook and clean up after myself — what's not to like?And even though I despised school, I thank them for the education they helped me acquire.5. Societal norms don't mean anything.When you define your life by what society tells you, trust me, life gets much harder to live. You're constantly on the edge thinking to yourself, "Am I behind the times? What's the normal thing to do? Is this acceptable?"For me, this came from not having confidence in myself to be who I am. I believe that when we are children, we already internalize this. We care not for society, but only for expressing ourselves. Then after puberty, we starting caring a bit too much.So much so that we begin to lose ourselves.Let's go back to who we used to be. Carefree of norms and happy for simply living a life our own.6. You aren't stuck in any situation.Whenever I’d lose a friend, get an awful grade, or disappoint my parents, I stewed in my own muck. Waiting for the bad moments to go away seemed to be the only solution. Fortunately, I know now that you don’t have to be stuck in bad situations.You can go out and create better ones.It all depends on perspective; on how you see the situation. Viewing everything as a learning experience makes life more pleasurable, even during the hard times.You aren't stuck. You can move on.7. You learn by doing.This a lesson that I unknowingly followed for quite some time. I used to try everything at least once, just to see how it was like. But as I entered my teen years, I became wary of trying new things.Skepticism enraptured me, fear grabbed hold of me, and soon… I became gutless.I would count myself out of the race before I was even in it.I think the lesson here is clear.You cannot change what you didn't know back then.Though, it would be nice to transfer wisdom across the time-space continuum. I wish I could tell my younger, immature self all of this.I'd tell him to relax and everything will be fine. All you have to do is believe everything will be okay and believe in your abilities, regardless of any path you choose.Nonetheless, I'm glad to have learned these lessons the way I did. Each experience helped shape me to become a better person. I don't know if any young people are reading this, but if they are, I'd like to say this:"Listen to life and it's experiences. Everyone goes through mostly the same things."Love is a telephone Love is a telephone which always keeps silent when you are longing for a call, but rings when you are not ready for it. As a result, we often miss the sweetness from the other end. Love is a telephone which is seldom program-controlled or directly dialed. You cannot get an immediate answer by a mere "hello", let alone go deep into your lover's heart by one call. Usually it had to be relayed by an operator, and you have to be patient in waiting. Destiny is the operator of this phone, who is always irresponsible and fond of laying practical jokes to which she may make you a lifelong victim intentionally or unintentionally.Love is a telephone which is always busy, When you are ready to die for love, you only find, to your disappointment, the line is already occupied by someone else, and you are greeted only by a busy line. This is an eternal regret handed down from generation to generation and you are only one of those who languish for followers.Love is telephone, but it is difficult to seize the center time for dialing, and you will let slip the opportunity if your call is either too early or too late.Love is a telephone which is not always associated with happiness. Honeyed words are transmitted by sound waves, but when the lovers are brought together, the phone servers no purpose that many lovers observe that marriage is the doom of love.Love is a telephone which, when you use it for the first time, makes you so nervous and excited that you either hold the receiver upside down or dial the wrong number. By the time you've calmed down, you will beat a loss to whom you should make the call.Love is a telephone which often has crossed lines. And this usually happens to you unexpectedly. Your time will either cross or be crossed. Both cases are refereed to as "triangle". Fortunately, all such occurrences are transient.What Do You See? Do you believe that reality just is and there's nothing you can do to change it? Do you think that what you're experiencing day to day is pretty much set in stone? That you're too old, stubborn or poor for life to be any different? I used to think that way. There was a time when I looked at my life and thought, well, these are the cards I've been dealt and, as bad as it is, I'll just have to accept it. Not that my life has been really bad--it hasn't been, but it wasn't absolutely wonderful. At least that's how I saw it. That's the key. I was using the wrong eyes to view my life. My visions were of struggle, boredom, and judgment. These things I saw through my physical eyes, which passed this information along to my brain, which said, OK, since that's what you see, then that's what I'll keep making you think you have. Thanks, but no thanks. I know better now. Somewhere along the way, my inner eyes caught my attention. I suppose their eyelids had been fluttering for quite some time, but who knew? My inner eyes, I call them the eyes of my soul, see nothing but love and joy. That's it! There are no other options available to them. My physical eyes can't understand this. They want to argue and say, No, no, no! The REAL world does not look that way! They have since learned that love and joy don't argue back. They just shine until the protestor shuts up. My inner eyes look at traffic jams and say, Oh, what a perfect chance to meditate! They look at a judgmental person and say, That person deserves blessings to soothe his or her unhappiness. They see a small bank balance as an opportunity to attract replenishment. Lots of it. The eyes of my soul see only the soul's eyes of everyone they meet, whether or not the person is aware of their own inner eyes. These eyes are made of love and can only see in others what they, themselves, are made of. My physical eyes have decided that love is a glorious color and are now more quick to join in this vision than they were in the past. Inner eyes insist on loving experiences. They always seek and find love, even in situations where the physical eyes would definitely not choose love. As a result, joy always surrounds each experience viewed by the inner eyes. My soul's eyes have taught me that love and joy go hand in hand, like lifetime friends that will never part. When you're living from your heart, you're allowing your inner eyes to shine. You're letting love go before you into all aspects of your daily life, to pave your path with joy. As the Universe would have it, the act of putting this love forth leaves you open to receiving it back tenfold. It's really that simple. See your life as full of love and joy. Show love in your thoughts, words, and deeds. Before you know it, your physical eyes will have no other choice but to agree that this is the life they were meant to see all along. Celebration of Life On my way home from coaching basketball yesterday, I was listening to WGN; my favorite talk radio station out of Chicago. I could tell right away that there was something wrong by the somber mood of the speaker. There had been a plane crash. Two small planes collided into each other over a northern suburb of Chicago. What made the story hit close to home was that Bob Collins, the morning show man for WGN, was the pilot of one of the planes and had been killed. (I'm sure that many readers have tuned in "Uncle Bobby" on their car radios in the Midwest.) Later that night, as I made my 40 minute drive to my third shift job, I listened as the station reminisced and paid tribute to a man who was loved by many. They told story after story, describing him as the ultimate friend, and a man who had lived life to the fullest. Genuine love and affection poured in from all over the country. The more I listened about how this man had influenced those around him, the more discouraged I became. Why you ask? I was discouraged because I wanted to know why we as a culture, wait until somebody has passed away before we tell them how much we love them? Why do we wait until someone's ears can't hear before we let them how much they mean to us? Why do we wait until it is too late before we recall the good qualities of a person? Why do we build someone up after they have gone into eternity? What good does it do then! We share memory after memory, as we laugh, cry, and think back about what was positive in a person's life. Yes, it does help us cope with the grief of losing someone that was special to us. And yes it does bring those who are coping, closer together. But as we lovingly remember this person, our words fall short of the ears that most needed to hear them. Just once I would like to see a celebration of life, instead of a gathering of death. A celebration where stories are told, eyes mist over, laughter rings out; and as the speaker concludes his or her loving tribute, the person they are honoring rises from their chair and gives them the biggest bear hug! Wouldn't that be something! The special person gets to hear the stories and come to the realization that they have made a difference on this earth. And all this is done well before they leave their earthly bodies and go into eternity. And when the inevitable funeral finally comes, we can say good bye with the knowledge that they knew exactly how people felt about them while they were here on earth. I now have a stronger resolve to tell those around me how much they mean to me. I am going to let my wife know just how loved and appreciated she is, not only by my words, but also by my actions. I am going to play Batman with my four year old more often, and in the middle of our romping, I am going to grab him, hug him tightly, and tell him how thankful I am that he is my son. I am going to sneak into my sleeping toddler's bedroom, place my lips on his chubby cheek, and thank God for the bundle of joy he has brought into my life. Each day I will make a point to tell both of my boys how much I love them, whether they are four or eighteen! From there, I am going to let family and friends know the tremendous impact they have had on my life. And last but not least, I am going to let the high school players I coach know that I look forward to each and every minute that I get to spend with them in the gym. Do you love someone? Then tell them! Has someone been an influence in your life? Then give them a call! Has someone made a difference in your life? Then write them a letter or send them an email! Don't let another day go by without letting that person know. There is something special about a written letter that expresses feelings of love towards another. I don't know about you, but I have letters and cards from people that I have saved for years, and from time to time, I get them out and reread them. They can turn a depressing day into one where you realize just how blessed and loved you are. Life is too short to leave kind words unsaid. The words you say, or the letter you write, might just make all the difference in the world. Early Autumn When Bill was very young, they had been in love. Many nights they had spent walking, talking together. Then something not very important had come between them, and they didn’t speak. Impulsively, she had married a man she thought she loved. Bill went away, bitter about women. Yesterday, walking across Washington Square, she saw him for the first time in years.“Bill Walker,” she said.He stopped. At first he did not recognize her, to him she looked so old.“Mary! Where did you come from?”Unconsciously, she lifted her face as though wanting a kiss, but he held out his hand. She took it.“I live in New York now,” she said.“Oh” — smiling politely. Then a little frown came quickly between his eyes.“Always wondered what happened to you, Bill.”“I’m a lawyer. Nice firm, way downtown.”“Married yet?”“Sure. Two kids.”“Oh,” she said.A great many people went past them through the park. People they didn’t know. It was late afternoon. Nearly sunset. Cold.“And your husband?” he asked her.“We have three children. I work in the bursar’s office at Columbia.”“You’re looking very . . .” (he wanted to say old) “. . . well,” he said.She understood. Under the trees in Washington Square, she found herself desperately reaching back into the past. She had been older than he then in Ohio. Now she was not young at all. Bill was still young.“We live on Central Park West,” she said. “Come and see us sometime.”“Sure,” he replied. “You and your husband must have dinner with my family some night. Any night. Lucille and I’d love to have you.”The leaves fell slowly from the trees in the Square. Fell without wind. Autumn dusk. She felt a little sick.“We’d love it,” she answered.“You ought to see my kids.” He grinned.Suddenly the lights came on up the whole length of Fifth Avenue, chains of misty brilliance in the blue air.“There’s my bus,” she said.He held out his hand. “Good-bye.”“When . . .” she wanted to say, but the bus was ready to pull off. The lights on the avenue blurred, twinkled, blurred. And she was afraid to open her mouth as she entered the bus. Afraid it would be impossible to utter a word.Suddenly she shrieked very loudly. “Good-bye!” But the bus door had closed.The bus started. People came between them outside, people crossing the street, people they didn’t know. Space and people. She lost sight of Bill. Then she remembered she had forgotten to give him her address — or to ask him for his — or tell him that her youngest boy was named Bill too.Life is about Choices Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I'd be twins!" He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don' t get it. You can' t be positive all the time. How do you do it?"Michael replied, each morning I wake up and say to myself 'Mike, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.""Yeah, right. It isn't that easy." I protested."Yes it is, " Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line is: It's your choice how you live life. " I reflected on what Michael said. Soon thereafter, I left the big enterprise that I had worked in for years to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often though about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling off 60 feet from a communications tower. After l8 hours of surgery, and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back. I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place."The first thing that went through my mind was the well being of my soon-to-born daughter," Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, remembered I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live." "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Michael continued, "... the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the operation room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, l read 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action." "What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me" said Michael. "She asked me if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I said. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled", 'Gravity'" Over their laughter, I told them, 'I'm choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead'."Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude.I learned from him that every day we have a choice to live fully. Attitude is everything. Taking a Stand The summer before fifth grade, my world was turned upside down when my family moved from the country town where I was born and raised to a town near the beach. When school began, I found it difficult to be accepted by the kids in my class who seemed a little more sophisticated, and who had been in the same class together since first grade. I also found this Catholic school different from the public school I had attended. At my old school, it was acceptable to express yourself to the teacher. Here, it was considered outrageous to even suggest a change be made in the way things were done.My mom taught me that if I wanted something in life, I had to speak up or figure out a way to make it happen. No one was going to do it for me. It was up to me to control my destiny.I quickly learned that my classmates were totally intimidated by the strict Irish nuns who ran the school. My schoolmates were so afraid of the nuns’ wrath that they rarely spoke up for themselves or suggested a change.Not only were the nuns intimidating, they also had some strange habits. The previous year, my classmates had been taught by a nun named Sister Rose. This year, she came to our class to teach music several times a week. During their year with her, she had earned the nickname Pick-Her-Nose-Rose. My classmates swore that during silent reading, she’d prop her book up so that she could have herself a booger-picking session without her students noticing. The worst of it, they told me, was that after reading was over, she’d stroll through the classroom and select a victim whose hair would be the recipient of one of her prize boogers. She’d pretend to be praising one of her students by rubbing her long, bony fingers through their hair! Well, to say the least, I did not look forward to her sort of praise.One day during music, I announced to Sister Rose that the key of the song we were learning was too high for our voices. Every kid in the class turned toward me with wide eyes and looks of total disbelief. I had spoken my opinion to a teacher― - one of the Irish nuns!That was the day I gained acceptance with the class. Whenever they wanted something changed, they’d beg me to stick up for them. I was willing to take the punishment for the possibility of making a situation better and of course to avoid any special attention from Pick-Her-Nose-Rose. But I also knew that I was being used by my classmates who just couldn’t find their voices and stick up for themselves.Things pretty much continued like this through sixth and seventh grades. Although we changed teachers, we stayed in the same class together and I remained the voice of the class.At last, eighth grade rolled around and one early fall morning our new teacher, Mrs. Haggard― - not a nun, but strict nevertheless― - announced that we would be holding elections for class representatives. I was elected Vice President.That same day, while responding to a fire drill, the new president and I were excitedly discussing our victory when, suddenly, Mrs. Haggard appeared before us with her hands on her hips. The words that came out of her mouth left me surprised and confused. “You’re impeached!” she shouted at the two of us. My first reaction was to burst out laughing because I had no idea what the word “impeached” meant. When she explained that we were out of office for talking during a fire drill, I was devastated.Our class held elections again at the beginning of the second semester. This time, I was elected president, which I took as a personal victory. I was more determined than ever to represent the rights of my oppressed classmates.My big opportunity came in late spring. One day, the kids from the other eighth grade class were arriving at school in “free dress,” wearing their coolest new outfits, while our class arrived in our usual uniforms: the girls in their pleated wool skirts and the boys in their salt and pepper pants. “How in the world did this happen?” we all wanted to know. One of the eighth graders from the other class explained that their teacher got permission from our principal, Sister Anna, as a special treat for her students.We were so upset that we made a pact to go in and let our teacher know that we felt totally ripped off. We agreed that when she inevitably gave us what had become known to us as her famous line, “If you don’t like it, you can leave,” we’d finally do it. We’d walk out together.Once in the classroom, I raised my hand and stood up to speak to our teacher. About eight others rose to show their support. I explained how betrayed we felt as the seniors of the school to find the other eighth graders in free dress while we had to spend the day in our dorky uniforms. We wanted to know why she hadn’t spoken on our behalf and made sure that we weren’t left out of this privilege.As expected, instead of showing sympathy for our humiliation, she fed us her famous line, “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” One by one, each of my classmates shrank slowly back into their seats. Within seconds, I was the only one left standing.I bega