大学生英语美文欣赏

时间:2020-11-29 17:40:45 美文欣赏 投诉 投稿

大学生英语美文欣赏

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大学生英语美文欣赏

  大学生英语美文1

  Some people are born with the belief that they are masters of their own lives. Others feel they are at the mercy of fate.New research shows that part of those feelings are in the genes

  Psychologists have long known that people confident in their ability to control their destinies are more likely to adjust well to growing old than those who feel that they drift on the currents of fate.

  Two researchers who questioned hundreds of Swedish twins report that such confidence, or lark of it, is partly genetic and partly drawn from experience.

  They also found that the belief in blind luck-a conviction that coincidence plays a big role in life is something learned in life and has nothing to do with heredity.

  The research was conducted at the Karolinska Institute-better known as the body that annually awards the Nobel Prize for medicine by Nancy Pedersen of the Institute and Margaret Gatz, a professor of psychology at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Their results were recently published in the United States in the Journal of Gerontology.

  People who are confident of their ability to control their lives have an "internal locus of control,"and have a better chance of being well adjusted in their old age, said Pedersen.

  An "external locus of control," believing that outside forces determine the course of life, has been linked to depression in latter years, she said.

  "We are trying to understand what makes people different. What makes some people age gracefully and others have a more difficult time?" she said.

  The study showed that while people have an inborn predilection toward independence and self-confidence, about 70 percent of this personality trait is affected by a person's environment and lifetime experiences.

  Pedersen's studies, with various collaborators, probe the aging process by comparing sets of twins, both identical and fraternal, many of whom were separated at an early age.

  The subjects were drawn from a roster first compiled about 30 years ago registering all twins born in Sweden since 1886. The complete list, which was extended in 1971, has 95,000 sets of twins.

  大学生英语美文2

  The first snow came. How beautiful it was, falling so silently all day long, all night long, on the mountains, on the meadows, on the roofs of the living, on the graves of the dead! All with save the river, that marked its course by a winding black line across the landscape; and the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now revealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacies of their branches. What silence, too, came with the snow, and what seclusion!

  Every sound was muffled, every noise changed to something soft and musical. No more tramping hoofs, no more rattling wheels! Only the chiming of sleigh-bells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of children.

  大学生英语美文3

  I remember quite clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves were floating in 1)measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we used to be happy. Well, I thought we were. But the truth was that you had been 2)longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely 3)conscious, you said: “Our story is ending.”

  The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago. I still don’t think I’m gonna make it through another love story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I’m watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.

  大学生英语美文4

  "I'm going to marry you one day." Beth said to her long time crush Jake. She wore her favorite blue teddy bear shirt. Her four-year-old blue eyes shined in the sun.

  "No you're not, you're a girl." Jake said.

  The California afternoon wind blew his light brown hair. Jumping off the monkey bars he laughed back to class.

  Sitting alone and confused she didn't know what to do. Beth sat high on the monkey bars crying. How can her future husband just leave like that?

  She was going to get him, but how? "I will not let him get away! I won't! I won't!"

  15 years later:

  "I love you, too, Jake." Hanging up the phone she caught her mom smiling. "What?"

  "When is he coming in from France? He's been there for awhile." She sat down on her black leather couch. The house was made up of different Indian stuff. On the walls were different dream catchers. Her mother was a full blood Cherokee Indian. She passed away when Beth was eight.

  "He has a lot of schooling to do right now. Maybe this Saturday."

  Fixing her short overalls she thought of Jake. Who would have thought they were going to date when she turned five?

  "Is he still living in Colorado?" Her mother Kay wore a white tank top with tan pants. And long blonde hair with pretty blue eyes. She was the most beautiful woman on Earth. And Beth is looking like her by the minute.

  "Yeah, I hate having a long distance relationship." She plopped on a leather chair.

  "It's ok baby, you know he loves you more than anything in this world. Love will keep you together."

  Beth could not help but smile. Her mother is and will always be her best friend.

  Jake sat in his hotel the school rented for him. School of law. He loved going overseas for everything. But he missed being with Beth. That hurt him the most.

  Spending the lonely nights in the hotel made him think of how much it would hurt to spend the rest of his life without her in it.

  Getting up off his bed he went into the bathroom. Watching his reflection in the mirror, all he could think about was Beth. He would leave Thursday, and get there Friday night.

  Turning off the light he jumped into the cold bed. On a coffee table near his bed rested a frame with them in it. It was taken at a beach about two years ago. It was the best time of their lives.

  It was Thursday morning and Beth waited for Jake's morning phone call. He would call at eight — it was ten.

  Beth got out of bed and got her favorite blue tank top. She took off her shirt and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  "What? What?" Her mother came rushing into her room. Staring at her naked daughter she saw the lump of her breast. "Does it hurt?"

  Beth could only say "No." Looking at the lump, she cried in pain.

  "Let's get you to the doctor."

  "Ok, let me get dressed."

  Shutting the door behind her, the room became silent. Shaking she put on her shirt, and ran out into the living room.

  "Mom, where are my blue shorts?"

  "In the dresser, second drawer."

  Finishing getting dressed she hopped into her car. Her red mustang drove like a baby.

  They waited for the doctor to come in. Beth could not begin to think she had cancer. As her mind drifted off her cell phone rang.

  "Hello?" Her heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Jake.

  "Hey, how are you?" He asked out of breath.

  "Could be better. Why didn't you call me this morning?"

  "Sorry, school got ahold of me today."

  "Why are you out of breath?" Looking stunned she stared at her mother.

  "I'm so sorry, he'll call back." Her mother gave Beth a hug.

  The doctor came in, and greeted his self. "Hello. I'm Kevin Baker." He smiled while examining her breast.

  大学生英语美文5

  I am dancing with my father at my parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. The band is playing an old-fashioned waltz as we move gracefully across the floor. His hand on my waist is as guiding as it always was, and he hums the tune to himself in a steady, youthful way. Around and around we go, laughing and nodding to the other dancers. We are the best dancers on the floor, they tell us. My father squeezes my hand and smiles at me.

  As we continue to dip and sway, I remember a time when I was almost three, and my father came home from work, swooped me into his arms and began to dance me around the table. My mother laughed at us, told us dinner would get cold. But my father said, “She's just caught the rhythm of the dance! Dinner can wait!” And then he sang out “Roll out the barrel, let's have a barrel of fun,” and I sang back, “Let's get those blues on the run.” That night he taught me to polka, waltz and do the fox trot while dinner waited.

  We danced through the years. When I was five, my father taught me to “shuffle off to Buffalo”. Later we won a dance contest at a Campfire Girls Round-Up. Then we learned to jitterbug at the USO place downtown. Once my father caught on to the steps, he danced with everyone in the hall — the women passing out doughnuts, even the GI's. We all laughed and clapped our hands for my father, the dancer.

  One night when I was fifteen, lost in some painful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. “C'mon,” he said, “let's get those blues on the run.” I turned away from him and hugged my pain closer than before. My father put his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped out of the chair screaming, “Don't touch me! Don't touch me! I am sick and tired of dancing with you!” The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. I ran to my room sobbing hysterically.

  We did not dance together after that night. I found other partners, and my father waited up for me after dances, sitting in his favorite chair, clad in his flannel pajamas. Sometimes he would be asleep when I came in, and I would wake him saying, “If you were so tired, you should have gone to bed.”

  “No, no,” he'd say. “I was just waiting for you.”

  Then we'd lock up the house and go to bed.

  My father waited up for me all through my high school and college years while I danced my way out of his life.

  One night, shortly after my first child was born, my mother called to tell me my father was ill. “A heart problem,” she said. “Now, don't come. Three hundred miles. It would upset your father. We will just have to wait. I'll let you know.”

  My father's tests showed some stress, but a proper diet restored him to good health. Little things, then, for a while. A disc problem in the back, more heart trouble, a lens implant for cataracts. But the dancing did not stop. My mother wrote that they had joined a dance club. “You remember how your father loves to dance.”

  Yes, I remember. My eyes filled up with remembering.

  When my father retired, we mended our way back together again; hugs and kisses were common when we visited each other. But my father did not ask me to dance. He danced with the grandchildren; my daughters knew how to waltz before they could read.

  “One, two, three and one, two, three,” my father would count out, “won't you come and waltz with me?” Sometimes my heart would ache to have him say those words to me. But I knew my father was waiting for an apology from me, and I could never find the right words.

  As the time for my parents' fiftieth anniversary approached, my brothers and I met to plan the party. My older brother said, “Do you remember that night you wouldn't dance with him? Boy, was he mad! I couldn't believe he'd get so mad about a thing like that. I'll bet you haven't danced with him since.”

  I did not tell him he was right.

  My younger brother promised to get the band.

  “Make sure they can play waltzes and polkas,” I told him.

  “Dad can dance to anything,” he said. “Don't you want to get down, get funky?” I did not tell him that all I wanted to do was dance once more with my father.

  When the band began to play after dinner, my parents took the floor. They glided around the room, inviting the others to join them. The guests rose to their feet, applauding the golden couple. My father danced with his granddaughters and then the band began to play the “Beer Barrel Polka.”

  “Roll out the barrel,” I heard my father sing. Then I knew it was time. I knew the words I must say to my father before he would dance with me once more. I wound my way through a few couples and tapped my daughter on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me,” I said, almost choking on my words, “but I believe this is my dance.”

  My father stood rooted to the spot. Our eyes met and traveled back to that night when I was fifteen. In a trembling voice, I sang, “Let's get those blues on the run.”

  My father bowed and said, “Oh, yes. I've been waiting for you.”

  Then he started to laugh, and we moved into each other's arms, pausing for a moment so we could catch once more the rhythm of the dance.

  大学生英语美文6

  Whatever I am writing - is based on my personal experience with life. It's just like life has become a book or certification for me. Similar I found with Mr. M K Gandhi "The Father of Nation? India". He wrote about his experience with truth. I am inspired because writing is best way to express all your feelings that you can't do elsewhere.

  Till date? I am unmarried. I have just started my career as an associate consultant. I believe consultant acts as a confusing mechanism to a client. Provide options not a decision. Well I am straightforward and honest. I have doubt to what extend and how long will I continue with all falsehood of business. Anyway this is expression time.

  My elder sister is a center of my life. I never find absence of love, friendship or guardian till I am with my sister. Once I was far? The first letter I learned was "L" and word was "Love". Even you start loving your age girl in your college days. It is becoming fashion! Get a bike? Girl friend is free. Cost is only petrol. You be at Canteen, no class, all types of festivals and days in campus.

  Sometime I was worried about my common man inside. I never did in my graduation. I had given lift only to one girl who was my enemy but by default she was a member of my industrial project study.

  Well I have not so many words to express my love and friendship. You generally express what you have rather you missed. Right?

  First of all I dislike thinking about love as any physical act. What we call romanticism. Romeo and Juliet? A Great Love Story. Well it was. But it is our style to misunderstand everything. (I may also do same thing!) But Thomas Moore says, "Romantic love is an illusion. Most of us discover this truth at the end of a love affair or else when the sweet emotions of love lead us into marriage and then turn down their flames." I 100 % agree with the statement.

  At this moment? I get another tragedy. Few of my friends were really in deep love. I don't know its meaning please! Graduation was over. Those who were unable to create their future,including them too. There is a French proverb: "Love makes the time pass. Time makes love pass." It is ok to love someone else if you know how to love yourself first! Understand love first. Love is not a girl for a friend and vice versa. It is not a feeling. It is not an attraction. Definitely love is not a time pass at all.

  There is an edge in our region: "Never wait for bus, train and a girl. If you missed one, another will come." But Gentleman “What are you doing at all?" You have to catch one.

  It is really tough to define love for one. We all have different meanings of love. It depends on psychology of different minds. For any Road to Romeo? Seating on cross roads and looking passionately thinking all nightmare dreams is love. For any highly knowledgeable studying at college impressing classmates and taking city round just like a guide is a love. For any typical clerk marrying a caste girl and seating on seashore? Planning future having number of children is true love. So many examples!

  On the same situation Leo Tolstoy says "If so many men, so many minds, certainly so many hearts, so many kinds of love."

  Well let me express few words on my experience. My love is always based on expectation of true friendship. For most of people family love may be messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern. But it is not of my case. I find true meaning of love when I put my first step far from my sister.

  You know - Sisters touch your heart in ways no other could. Sisters share... their hopes, their fears, their love, everything they have. Real friendship springs from their special bonds.

  My weakness is I easily fall in love. And probably I love to write on love although I have been a poor unsuccessful story. But I am one of the luckiest fellows who have got love since birth in advance.

  I always look a person like my sister in a girl whom I love. Sorry I am attaching love with girl. Love has no physical entity. Still let's take a girl, my age girl. 2-3 years above and down difference is ok. Out of my life's six choices, most of which are "Salwar Kameez" (an Indian dress material) just like my sister. They were bold enough to talk at the same time able to understand situation. In short similar to my sister.

  What does it mean? We love people on the basis of some attributes. Even you check out with your experience. Most of us will agree with me finding same attributes or characteristics in a person whom we loved.

  I don't know what is Love? I don't know what is Friendship? I don't know anything? I just want a person who can understand my feelings,my nature,my problems and me. If I want to meet her or if I want to talk to her, I don't need a reason. Why do I insist to get my love that can marry me? because I will not need a permission of her husband if I want to talk to her.

  We rarely understand but always feel it that love,friend and marriage have least degree of control on over physical body rather our mind. Your love is your strength. It is the basis of your existence.

  "Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness that afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives." Says Bertrand Russell.

  Your love may hurt you any day, as everything that comes has to go. Even my sister will get married one day. My friend whom I loved said she wished to be, as friends rather love. I am happy because she talks to me whenever I need. I have not done anything for her. There are many people who dislike me where I have few people who like me without any reason.

  We always need to thank for giving such beautiful and kind relations in life. If you are in age of 12 to 28, you will feel it. Once you pass it, you will understand the reality that I don't know yet.

  Well if you are meeting to your true love today, convey my best wishes!

  大学生英语美文7

  One windy spring day, I observed young people having fun using the wind to fly their kites. Multicolored creations of varying shapes and sizes filled the skies like beautiful birds darting and dancing. As the strong winds gusted against the kites, a string kept them in check.

  Instead of blowing away with the wind, they arose against it to achieve great heights. They shook and pulled, but the restraining string and the cumbersome tail kept them in tow, facing upward and against the wind. As the kites struggled and trembled against the string, they seemed to say, “Let me go! Let me go! I want to be free!” They soared beautifully even as they fought the restriction of the string. Finally, one of the kites succeeded in breaking loose. “Free at last,” it seemed to say. “Free to fly with the wind.”

  Yet freedom from restraint simply put it at the mercy of an unsympathetic breeze. It fluttered ungracefully to the ground and landed in a tangled mass of weeds and string against a dead bush. “Free at last” free to lie powerless in the dirt, to be blown helplessly along the ground, and to lodge lifeless against the first obstruction.

  How much like kites we sometimes are. The Heaven gives us adversity and restrictions, rules to follow from which we can grow and gain strength. Restraint is a necessary counterpart to the winds of opposition. Some of us tug at the rules so hard that we never soar to reach the heights we might have obtained. We keep part of the commandment and never rise high enough to get our tails off the ground.

  Let us each rise to the great heights, recognizing that some of the restraints that we may chafe under are actually the steadying force that helps us ascend and achieve.

  大学生英语美文8

  No young man believes he shall ever die. It was a saying of my brother’s, and a fine one. There is a feeling of Eternity in youth, which makes us amend for everything. To be young is to be as one of the Immortal Gods. One half of time indeed is flown-the other half remains in store for us with all its countless treasures; for there is no line drawn, and we see no limit to our hopes and wishes. We make the coming age our own-

  The vast, the unbounded prospect lies before us.

  Death. old age. are words without a meaning. that pass by us like the idea air which we regard not. Others may have undergone, or may still be liable to them-we "bear a charmed life”, which laughs to scorn all such sickly fancies. As in setting out on delightful journey, we strain our eager gaze forward-

  Bidding the lovely scenes at distance hail!

  And see no end to the landscape, new objects presenting themselves as we advance; so, in the commencement of life, we set no bounds to our inclinations. nor to the unrestricted opportunities of gratifying them. we have as yet found no obstacle, no disposition to flag; and it seems that we can go on so forever. We look round in a new world, full of life, and motion, and ceaseless progress; and feel in ourselves all the vigor and spirit to keep pace with it, and do not foresee from any present symptoms how we shall be left behind in the natural course of things, decline into old age, and drop into the grave. It is the simplicity, and as it were abstractedness of our feelings in youth, that (so to speak) identifies us with nature, and (our experience being slight and our passions strong) deludes us into a belief of being immortal like it. Our short-lives connection with existence we fondly flatter ourselves, is an indissoluble and lasting union-a honeymoon that knows neither coldness, jar, nor separation. As infants smile and sleep, we are rocked in the cradle of our wayward fancies, and lulled into security by the roar of the universe around us0we quaff the cup of life with eager haste without draining it, instead of which it only overflows the more-objects press around us, filling the mind with their magnitude and with the strong of desires that wait upon them, so that we have no room for the thoughts of death.