时间:2024-05-31 15:11:26 瑞文头条 我要投稿





  Romance of the Poor People

  At some dusk, when I was walking in the street, I saw a young man take a woman on his back and go up to the sky-bridge. I could deduce that they are a couple come from countryside from their clothes. The man walked difficultly step by step,at the same time, his forehead is full of sweat.

  So I walked towards them quickly and inquired carefully: what is wrong with her? Let me ask for a taxi for you. While, the man only smiled, instead, the woman on his back said to me: thank you, nothing. Nothing? It is so hard to understand what they did and said, therefore, I followed them all the time to pass the bridge. The woman jumped down from the back suddenly. Her husband as wiped and said to me: sorry and thanks a lot. We are playing game each other, it is just a game, ha ha . What? You are playing game! I was so awkward with little angry.

  After a while, the woman explained to me, today is the date of the three anniversaries of our marriage. Tonight, We have asked for a leave to walk outside. Her husband had little money in his pocket. Yet he wanted to buy gift for me. I refused and told him, we could buy a bag of flour with it. My husband is so strong, so I asked for him to take me with his back, therefore, he took me three rounds for the three anniversaries. In addition, he has promised me that he would be able to take me thirty rounds for the thirty anniversaries, he he.In fact, in my sight, the woman is not pretty. But, at that moment, she looks seem to be a princess under the sunlight of love.

  Said to good-bye to that couple after some greetings. I walked in the street with crowds and thought: we always think that romance relates fresh flowers, cand lelight and music. While, I never imagine this fancy romance no relations with money.

  That is true, if we have no money to provide romance for lover, yet, we can at least take lover with our back to go up to the sky- bridge, which keeps love up to date step by step.


  I have an important friend named Trey, who is exactly ten years older than I am, yet he lives the childlike life of one who is many years younger. When I was six, he was part of my Sunday school class. He seemed huge and intimidating at first, sitting crammed into a small wooden chair, but we became best friends on that first day after he broke a cookie in two and with a large grin handed me the smaller half. I thought of him as a protector, a special friend. It didn"t matter that he was mentally handicapped, for I saw him as a grown-up who understood me. As years went by, however, I began to outgrow Trey. I grew up and Trey just grew. Sometimes I would watch him and wonder: did he notice that I was no longer in his Sunday school class? Did he realize I had moved on with my life as he treaded water? Did he ever miss me?

  One Sunday, just a year before I began college - where I planned to participate in many sports as I had in high school - Trey"s mom asked me if I would like to earn some extra money by being his "special Saturday friend." I wish I could say I accepted for altruistic reasons, but the truth was, I accepted because I needed money for tuition. Trey and I went to the library, to the pet store or for walks in the park. I mainly worked with him on socialization.

  To my embarrassment, I quickly learned that this 200-pound man-boy liked to shake people"s hands. In spite of his ear-to-ear grin, he could be daunting when he galloped up to strangers and stuck out his large hand in a hearty greeting. It was hard to teach him this behavior was inappropriate.

  "Stand next to me and do not go up to people," I spoke tersely. "No one likes it."

  "Ochay," he obediently replied, as if he hadn"t a care in the world, and nothing was important.

  When Trey learned to ride his bike, I watched as he ran off curbs and toppled over about a dozen times. Sighing deeply, I would impatiently tap my foot on the sidewalk and tell him, "Dust off and try again!" I assumed I was the smart one, the one with all the answers. That was about to change.

  That summer, while playing in the city"s softball tournament, I was sliding into third base when my cleat caught in the ground, pulling my foot to the right and backwards as my body fell forward. My parents, sitting in the bleachers, heard two loud cracks. I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. X rays revealed a broken leg and a foot that was totally twisted off my ankle and hanging, saclike, in my skin. Emergency surgery lasted into the wee hours of the morning. A pin was put in place to hold my foot to my ankle and screws were ed in the broken leg.

  In the early morning, groggy from anesthesia, I awoke to see my father, my mother and Trey at my bedside. He waited for me to jump up and do something with him.

  "Hi!" he grinned as he shoved his hand in my face.

  "Hi Trey," I weakly shook his hand. My leg hurt and my mind was dense from pain medication.

  "Dust off . . . try again," he said, repeating what he had heard me say so often.

  "I can"t."

  "Ochay," he sweetly nodded and galloped out of my room in search of a hand to shake.

  "Trey, don"t shake hands," I whispered. "No one likes it."

  Before leaving the hospital, my orthopedic surgeon said I might never regain the same mobility in my ankle - mobility essential for a champion sprinter and jumper like me. Not allowed to put weight on my leg for eight weeks, I wobbled about on steel crutches. Now Trey was the impatient one. He wanted to go places that I couldn"t manage. He sat with his arms crisscrossed over his large belly and stared at me with a pouty face.

  We read many children"s books and drew pictures, but it was plain to see he was bored. He wanted to go to the pet store to see the white mice and feathery birds. He wanted to go to the library and count all the books on the shelves. He wanted to go to the park and have me push him on the swing. I couldn"t do any of this for a while.

  Meanwhile I was plagued with questions and self-doubt. Would I be finished with physical therapy in time to run track? Would I ever run at my capacity again? Would I do well in the 300-meter hurdles, the race I had lettered in the previous season? Would it still be my event? Or would the doctor"s prediction be correct?

  I worked hard at my physical therapy. Afterwards, I packed my foot in ice. At times, Trey came along to watch me work out and he laughed and laughed when he discovered the stationary bike didn"t move. "No dusting off!" he"d say. How simple life was for him. How complicated it had become for me. I tried not to cry in front of him.

  Finally off my crutches, I pushed myself hard to regain my former mobility. Trey ran laps with me around the black tar track at my high school, running slightly askew. Sometimes he tripped over his own feet and fell down hard.

  "Dust off!" he would tell himself with confidence as he rubbed dirt from his legs and knees. I watched him greet each defeat with determination. He never gave up.

  After many months, I somehow managed to qualify for the 300-meter hurdles. Mom, Dad and Trey sat in the stands to cheer me.

  Stay focused, I told myself as I mentally prepared.

  The starting gunshot split the air. Running, I could feel the tautness in my legs. My legs hit the hard track one after the other, in a quick rhythm. My breathing was even. I could feel some of the other runners around me, next to me, passing me, ahead of me. I ignored the rising pain in my foot and ankle as I prayed away the thumping fear taking hold inside my chest. On the other side of the track, I ran into a wall of cheers. No time to react or think - just time to run and run hard.

  More runners passed me, then another and another. Over the hurdles they flew easily like great birds stepping over stones.

  "Look at that new girl move. Go Tiffany," I heard someone shout to the other runner. Last year it was my name they called.

  Once I had sailed over the hurdles. Now I felt as if I were pulling myself up and over. Then something shifted inside me - I thought of Trey and what he had had to deal with. Suddenly my problems seemed minor. With a new sense of determination, I sprang forth. I wish I could say that through a superhuman effort I passed the other runners. But I didn"t. In fact, I limped across the finish line, dead last in an event in which I had once set a record. Then I looked up into the stands. Trey and my folks stood cheering for me harder than any time I had ever won.

  As the season progressed I did improve, but I never placed first, second or third. I never set another school record. My hopes for a track college scholarship were dashed. Yet I learned a lesson more valuable than any medal. And it was this: "Dust off and try again." I also learned that courage comes not in the easy times, but when it"s hard to go on - when others pass you, regardless of how hard you work. Now I finally understand Trey"s courage, as he shakes the hands of complete strangers, risking laughter or rejection.

  Today, I no longer grieve for the athlete I might have been, or the races I might have won, or the records I had hoped to break. I see a world filled with possibilities as I walk (not run) down new paths to explore.

  Now, on Saturdays, when someone stares at us, I pull on Trey"s sleeve. "Go shake his hand, Trey." My crutches gather dust in a musty corner of the garage. In contrast, Trey"s handicap remains fresh as the day he was born. And every day he is braver than I could ever be.


  “Do you like my dress?"she asked of a passing stranger。"My mommy made it just for me。"She said with a tear in her eye。


  "Well,I think it's very pretty,so tell me little one,why are you crying?"


  With a quiver in her voice the little girl answered。"After Mommy made me this dress,she had to go away。"


  "Well,now,"said the lady,"with a little girl like you waiting for her,I'm sure she'll be right back。"


  "No Ma'am ,you don't understand,"said the child through her tears,"my daddy said she's up in heaven now with Grandfather。"


  Finally the woman realized what the child meant,and why she was crying。Kneeling down she gently cradled the child in her arms and together they cried for the mommy that was gone。


  Then suddenly the little girl did something that the woman thought was a bit strange。She stopped crying,stepped back from the woman and began to sing。She sang so softly that it was almost a whisper。 It was the sweetest sound the woman had ever heard,almost like the song of a very small bird。


  After the child stopped singing she explained to the lady,"My mommy used to sing that song to me before she went away,and she made me promise to sing it whenever I started crying and it would make me stop。"


  "See,"she exclaimed,"it did,and now my eyes are dry!"


  As the woman turned to go,the little girl grabbed her sleeve,"Ma'am,can you stay just a minute?I want to show you something。"


  "Of course,"she answered,"what do you want me to see?"


  Pointing to a spot on her dress,she said,"Right here is where my mommy kissed my dress,and here,"pointing to another spot,"and here is another kiss, and here,and here。Mommy said that she put all those kisses on my dress so that I would have her kisses for every booboo'that made me cry。"


  Then the lady realized that she wasn't just looking at a dress,no,she was looking at a mother…who knew that she was going away and would not be there to kiss away the hurts that she knew her daughter would get。


  So she took all the love she had for her beautiful little girl and put them into this dress,that her child now so proudly wore。


  She no longer saw a little girl in a simple dress。 She saw a child wrapped…in her mother's love。




  Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

  Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 60 more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

  Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

  Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonders, the unfailing appetite for what’s next and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart, there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, courage and power from man and from the infinite, so long as you are young.

  When your aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you’ve grown old, even at 20; but as long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there’s hope you may die young at 80.






  无论年届花甲,拟或二八芳龄,心中皆有生命之欢乐,奇迹之诱惑,孩童般天真久盛不衰。人人心中皆有一台天线,只要你从天上人间接受美好、希望、欢乐、勇气和力量的信号,你就年轻永驻,风华常存。 、



  19 Since the beginning of time, man has invented many interesting things. Some of these inventions, like numbers, the alphabet and the radio, have certainly changed history. Since 1946, one of the most important inventions has been the computer. It will change all our lives.

  At one time it was as large as a room, and quite difficult and slow to operate. But, since the invention of the silicon ship, which is really a very very small electric circuit, computers have been greatly improved. They have become smaller, easier to use, and faster; they can store a lot more information.

  Some computer are made as well as television sets. Simple computers can be made smaller than a book. And computers are getting smaller all the time.

  There are several reasons why the computer is useful to us. Firstly, it can store a very very large quantity of information in its memory. Secondly, the computer can operate very quickly thousands of times faster than a human and it will not tire. Thirdly, modern computers can be built into other kinds of machines, like radios, cars, planes and so on. They can do many kinds of work.

  Soon, almost everyone, either at home or at work, will use some kind of computer. the lives of all of us will be changed by this invention.

  The main idea of this passage is ____

  A how the computer came into being



  Self-control is essential to happiness and usefulness.


  It is the master of all the virtues, and has its root in self-respect.


  Let a man yield to his impulses and passions, and from that moment he gives up his moralfreedom.


  It is the self-discipline of a man that enables him to pursue success with superior diligenceand sobriety.


  Many of the great characters in history illustrate this trait.


  In ordinary life the application is the same.


  He who would lead must first command himself.


  The time of test is when everybody is excited or angry, then the well一balanced mind comes tothe front.


  There is a very special demand for the cultivation of this trait at present.


  The young men who rush into business with no good education or drill will do poor andfeverish work.


  Endurance is a much better test of character than act of heroism.


  A fair amount of self-examination is good,Self-knowledge is a preface to self-control.


  Too much self-inspection leads to morbidness; too little conducts to careless and hastyaction.


  There are two things which will surely strengthen our self-control.


  One is attention to conscience; the other is a spirit of good will.


  The man who would succeed in any great undertaking must hold all his faculties under perfectcontrol;


  they must be disciplined and drilled until they quickly and cheerfully obey the will.



  The gas station nearest my house happens to face a strip club. It is apparently a very successful strip club, as they could afford to install a LCD screen on their roof that might be visible from the Space Station. It's certainly visible from the gas station. At some point my eyes will drift up while pumping gas, and there will be a one-story image of a young woman in some stage of near-undress.

  As I was getting some gas this morning, I wondered for the first time what a woman pumping gas thought when she looked at that screen. Though it would depend on the woman, I thought. A woman who had once been an exotic dancer herself would certainly look at that image differently than a Catholic nun.

  The image would look different to each of us. And when I say look different, I mean we would be seeing what amounts to a different image. For while the young woman's pose and attire that I see are identical to the pose and attire that every other man, woman, and child sees, the story that image tells me is told uniquely by me, by my own ideas about women and advertising and maybe even gas stations.

  The image is nothing; the story is everything. Good to remember if you're a writer. Writers don't report the facts. The fact that there is a strip club with a giant LCD screen blazing near-nudity for all to see means nothing in reality. All that ever matters is what a person believes when they look upon it. What a person believes is the terrain of the storyteller.

  And by the way, it is the only terrain of the storyteller. Storytellers, whether they are conscious of it or not, wish to alter reality. We are not so interested in changing the image that flashes on the great LCD screen of the world. Mostly that's beyond our control. We could march, or protest, or fill out petitions to get the screen changed, but it's faster, ultimately, to tell ourselves a story about what we see there.

  I sometimes forget I have to power to change that story. My mind drifts as idly from thought to thought as my eyes drift from gas pump to pinup. What occurs in this exchange between the world I look upon and the story I tell can happen so fast, can be so habitual, that I can lose track of who is telling the story I am hearing. The moment I remember, the moment I see my mind as a blank page on which to write my life, I am the author once more, and my life is mine again.


  Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted; others to swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; an if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.


  Nature satisfies by its loveliness,and without any mixture of corporeal benefit.I see the spectacle of morning from the hilltop over against my house,from daybreak to sunrise,with emotions which an angel might share.The long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of crimson light.From the earth,as a shore, I look out into that silent sea.I seem to partake its rapid transformations;the active enchantment reaches my dust, and I dilate and conspire with the morning wind. How does Nature deify us with a few and cheap elements! Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous.Te dawn is my Assyria;the sunset and moonrise my Paphos, and unimaginable realms of faerie;broad noon shall be my England of the senses and the understanding;the night shall be my Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams.



  On beauty

  Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide? And how shall you speak of her except she be the 1)weaver of your speech?

  The 2)aggrieved and the 3)injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her own 4)glory she walks among us."

  And the 5)passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of 6)might and 7)dread. Like the 8)tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."

  The tired and the 9)weary say, "Beauty is of soft 10)whisperings. She speaks in our spirit. Her voice 11)yields to our silences like a 12)faint light that 13)quivers 14)in fear of the shadow."

  But the 15)restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains, and with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the 16)roaring of lions."

  At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."

  And at 17)noon-time the 18)toilers and the 19)wayfarers say, "We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."

  In winter say the 20)snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."

  And in the summer heat the 21)reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."

  All these things have you said of beauty, yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, and beauty is not a need but an 22)ecstasy. It is not a mouth 23)thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, but rather a heart 24)enflamed and a soul 25)enchanted. It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, but rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the 26)sap within the 27)furrowed 28)bark, nor a wing attached to a 29)claw, but rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

  Beauty is life when life 30)unveils her holy face.

  1) weaver n. 编织者,织工

  2) aggrieved a. 苦恼的,悲伤的 the aggrieved指苦恼的人,悲伤的人

  3) injured a. 受伤的,受损害的 the injured指受伤的人,受损害的人

  4) glory n. 荣誉,光荣

  5) passionate a. 热情的 the passionate指充满热情的人

  6) might n. 力量,威力

  7) dread n. 惧怕,担心

  8) tempest n. 暴风雨

  9) weary a. 疲倦的 the weary指疲倦的人

  10) whispering n. 耳语

  11) yield to 屈服于,屈从于

  12) faint a. 微弱的,模糊的

  13) quiver v. 颤抖

  14) in fear of 对……惧怕,担忧

  15) restless a. 不能安静的 the restless指好动的人

  16) roaring n. 咆哮,呼喊

  17) noon-time n. 正午,白昼

  18) toiler n. 辛劳者

  19) wayfarer n. 旅人,徒步旅行者

  20) snow-bound a. 被大雪困阻的 the snowbound指被大雪困阻的人

  21) reaper n. 收割者

  22) ecstasy n. 入迷

  23) thirsting a. 口渴的

  24) enflame v. 燃烧

  25) enchant v. 施魔法,使迷惑

  26) sap n. 树液

  27) furrowed a. 有犁沟的,有皱纹的

  28) bark n. 树皮

  29) claw n. 爪

  30) unveil v. 揭开,除去面纱














  An important new industry, oil refining, grew after the Civil war. Crude oil, or petroleum ? a dark, thick ooze from the earth ? had been known for hundreds of years, but little use had ever been made of it. In the 1850’s Samuel M. Kier, a manufacturer in western Pennsylvania, began collecting the oil from local seepages and refining it into kerosene. Refining, like smelting, is a process of removing impurities from a raw material.

  Kerosene was used to light lamps. It was a cheap substitute for whale oil, which was becoming harder to get. Soon there was a large demand for kerosene. People began to search for new supplies of petroleum.

  The first oil well was drilled by E.L. Drake, a retired railroad conductor. In 1859 he began drilling in Titusville, Pennsylvania. The whole venture seemed so impractical and foolish that onlookers called it “ Drake’s Folly”. But when he had drilled down about 70 feet(21 meters), Drake struck oil. His well began to yield 20 barrels of crude oil a day.

  News of Drake’s success brought oil prospectors to the scene. By the early 1860’s these wildcatters were drilling for “ black gold” all over western Pennsylvania. The boom rivaled the California gold rush of 1848 in its excitement and Wild West atmosphere. And it brought far more wealth to the prospectors than any gold rush.

  Crude oil could be refined into many products. For some years kerosene continued to be the principal one. It was sold in grocery stores and door-to-door. In the 1880’s refiners learned how to make other petroleum products such as waxes and lubricating oils. Petroleum was not then used to make gasoline or heating oil.


  "Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked.


  when the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.


  Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. when he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.


  He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."


  He grew up, handsome except for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music.


  "But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.


  The boy's father had a session with the family physician... "Could nothing be done?"


  "I believe I culd graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided. So the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.


  Two years went by.Then, "You're going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret." said the father.


  The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.


  Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "but I must know," he asked his father, "who gave me the ears? who gave me so much? I culd never do enough for him."


  "I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."


  The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come. one of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish brown hair to reveal taht the mother had no outer ears.


  "Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," his father whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"



  At the Backs of King’s College there is a memorial stone in white marble commemorating an alumnus of the College, renowned Chinese poet Xu Zhimo. Moving to the UK in 1921, Zhimo spent a year studying at King’s, where he fell in love not only with the romantic poetry of English poets like John Keats, but also with Cambridge itself.


  His poem, 再别康桥 (variously translated as Second Farewell to Cambridge), is arguably his most famous poem, and is now a compulsory text on Chinese literature syllabuses, learnt by millions of school children across the country every year. The poem paints an idyllic portrait of King’s and the River Cam, and serves as a reminder of Xu Zhimo’s fondness for his time in Cambridge.


  While the poem has been set to music many times before, King’s has commissioned the first musical setting of the text by a mainstream classical composer. The new piece, by renowned English composer John Rutter, has been written and recorded in celebration of the near 100-year link between King’s College and Xu Zhimo, and has been released on 26 January 20xx on a new album on the King’s College Record Label.

  虽然这首诗已多次被配乐演绎,但国王学院委托了主流古典作曲家根据诗的文字进行创作。新作品由著名的`英国作曲家约翰.卢特(John Rutter)担纲,以铭记国王学院和徐志摩之间近100年的不解之缘,并已由国王学院的唱片公司于20xx年1月26日发布。

  “Many intellectual transformations happened for him while he was here and in some ways the whole seed of his development as a person who became an intellectual poet, through the medium of poetry, all sort of connected up with his visit to Cambridge and the people we met.”

  “国王学院极大程度帮助徐志摩拓展了学识,并种下了日后成为一名才华横溢的诗人的种子,”国王学院副院长史蒂文.切力(Steve Cherry)表示,“通过对这首诗的音乐创作,我们把学院的美丽点滴和徐志摩本人在这里的美好体验结合起来,重新带给因他而寻访的中国人民。”

  “John Rutter is a very resourceful composer, and I was delighted with the way he conceived of doing this, presenting most of the text through the tenor voice for which we engage the Chinese tenor. Well, I wanted to have a go myself at making an arrangement of it which would express something of what we do at King’s.”

  “很荣幸能够邀请到约翰.卢特(John Rutter)来为我们作曲。他是个经验丰富的作曲家,这次也通过与一名中国男高音歌唱家的合作充分体现了我们想表达的主题。其实我一直希望能够做出一首表达出国王学院气质的作品”,负责这首《再别康桥》曲目的编曲家,同时也担任国王学院合唱团总指挥的史蒂芬.克劳伯里(Stephen Cleobury)说。

  “The inspiration I think came from the poem which is on the tablet by the bridge by the river camp here in the college. Apart from the tourist self and the words, which of course are quite big elements in it, it’s not specifically intended to be a Chinese piece. It’s the sort of arrangement I would make for something like that, and it’s a very beautiful melody.”



  Some people eat to live, but there are others who live to eat.To live a long and healthy life, we must learn to have a balanceddiet. A balanced diet simply means a bit of everything. A dietwhich includes meat, fish, vegetables and fruit is, of course,ideal. If you watch your diet, then you won’t have to suffer thepain of going on a diet.


  As you slowly open your eyes, look around, notice(注意) where the light comes into your room; listen carefully(仔细的,小心的。谨慎的), see if there are new sounds you can recognize(认识。认出,辨认); feel with your body and spirit, and see if you can sense the freshness(新鲜的) in the air.

  Yes, yes, yes, it's a new day, it's a different day, and it's bright (明亮的,发亮的,辉煌的,阳光灿烂的)day! And most importantly, it's a new beginning for your life, a beginning where you are going to make new decisions(决定), take new actions, make new friends, and take your life to a totally unprecedented(空前的) level(水平,层次,级别).

  In your mind's(n.心,精神,心力,知,智力,智慧;心胸,头脑,人;愿望,目的.,意向,意志,决心,见解,意见;记忆,记性,记忆力,回想vi.介意;注意vt.专心于;介意;愿意做;照顾) eye, you can see clearly(清晰的,明白的), the things you want to have, the paces(步度,步速,步调) you intend (想要,打算,计划)to go, the relationships you desire (愿望,欲望,情欲,要求,请求)to develop, and the positions(位置,方位。地位,职务。状况) you aspire(励志)to reach.

  You can hear your laughters of joy(欢乐,快乐) and happiness on the day when everything happens as you dream. You can see the smiles on the people around you when the magic(魔法,也指神奇的力量,魔力,魅力) moment strikes(攻击,击中). You can feel your face is getting red, your heart is beating fast, and your blood is rushing(冲,奔涌) all over your body, to every single(单一的,个别的) corner(角落,转折点) of your being!

  You know all this is real as long as you are confident(确定的,肯定的,有信心的), passionate (热情的,感情强烈的,激昂的)and committed!(效忠的) And you are confident, you are passionate, you are committed!

  You will no longer fear making new sounds, showing new facial(面部的,面部用的,美容用的)expressions(表达,陈述,体现,表情), using your body in new ways, approaching new people, and asking new questions.

  You will live every single(单一的,个别的)day of your life with absolute(绝对的,专制独裁的,完全的) passion, and you will show your

  passion through the words you speak and the actions you take.

  You will focus all your time and effort(努力,艰难的尝试,努力的成果,成就) on the most important goals of your life. You will never succumb(屈服,屈从) to challenges of hardships(苦难,困苦,苦事,苦因).

  You will never waver(动摇) in your pursuit(追赶,追逐,追求) of excellence(优秀,杰出,卓越). After all, you are the best, and you deserve the best!

  As your coach(私人教练,指导教师) and friend, I can assure(使确信,使放心,向。。。保证) you the door to all the best things in the world will open to you, but the key to that door is in your hand. You must do your part(部分,本分,职责). You must faithfully(忠诚的) follow the plans you make and take the actions you plan; you must never quit(离开,退出,停止,放弃) and you must never fear. I know you must do it, you can do it, you will do it, and you will succeed! Now stand firm and tall, make a fist, get excited, and yell it out:

  I must do it! I can do it! I will do it! I will succeed!

  I must do it! I can do it! I will do it! I will succeed!

  I must do it! I can do it! I will do it! I will succeed!