經典優秀英語美文欣賞

　　英語閱讀，是英語學習和英語教學中的一個重要環節，它是我們獲取知識、外界資訊，與外界交流的主要途徑之一。下面是小編帶來的，歡迎閱讀!

　　篇一

　　Piano Music***鋼琴曲***

　　There are advantages and disadvantages to coming from a large family. Make that a large family with a single parent，and they double. The disadvantages are never so apparent as when someone wants to go off to college. Parents have cashed in life insurance policies to cover the cost of one year.

　　My mother knew that she could not send me to college and pay for it. She worked in a retail store and made just enough to pay the bills and take care of the other children at home. If I wanted to go to college，it was up to me to find out how to get there.

　　I found that I qualified for some grants because of the size of our family，my mom“s income and my SAT scores. There was enough to cover school and books，but not enough for room and board. I accepted a job as part of a work-study program. While not glamorous，it was one I could do. I washed dishes in the school cafeteria.

　　To help myself study，I made flash cards that fit perfectly on the large metal dishwasher. After I loaded the racks，I stood there and flipped cards，learning the makeup of atoms while water and steam broke them down all around me. I learned how to make y equal to z while placing dishes in stacks. My wrinkled fingers flipped many a card，and many times my tired brain drifted off，and a glass would crash to the floor. My grades went up and down. It was the hardest work I had ever done.

　　Just when I thought the bottom was going to drop out of my college career，an angel appeared. Well，one of those that are on earth，without wings.

　　“I heard that you need some help，”he said.

　　“What do you mean?”I asked，trying to figure out which area of my life he meant.

　　“Financially，to stay in school.”

　　“Well，I make it okay. I just have trouble working all these hours and finding time to study.”

　　“Well，I think I have a way to help you out.”

　　He went on to explain that his grandparents needed help on the weekends. All that was required of me was cooking meals and helping them get in and out of bed in the morning and evening. The job paid four hundred dollars a month，twice the money I was making washing dishes. Now I would have time to study. I went to meet his grandparents and accepted the job.

　　My first discovery was his grandmother“s great love of music. She spent hours playing her old，off-key piano. One day，she told me I didn”t have enough fun in my life and 11***took it upon herself to teach me the art.

　　Grandma was impressed with my ability and encouraged me to continue. Weekends in their house became more than just books and cooking;they were filled with the wonderful sounds of the out-of-tune piano and two very out-of-tune singers.

　　When Christmas break came，Grandma got a chest cold，and I was afraid to leave her. I hadn“t been home since Labor Day，and my family was anxious to see me. I agreed to come home，but for two weeks instead of four，so I could return to Grandma and Grandpa. I said my good-byes，arranged for their temporary care and return home.

　　As I was loading my car to go back to school，the phone rang.

　　“Daneen，don”t rush back，“he said.

　　“Why?What”s wrong?“I asked，panic rising.

　　“Grandma died last night，and we have decided to put Grandpa in a retirement home. I”m sorry.“

　　I hung up the phone feeling like my world had ended. I had lost my friend，and that was far worse than knowing I would have to return to dishwashing.

　　I went back at the end of four weeks，asking to begin the work-study program again. The financial aid advisor looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I explained my position，then he smiled and slid me an envelope.“This is for you，”he said.

　　It was from grandma. She had known how sick she was. In the envelope was enough money to pay for the rest of my school year and a request that I take piano lessons in her memory.

　　I don“t think”The Old Grey Mare“was even played with more feeling than it was my second year in college. Now，years later，when I walk by a piano，I smile and think of Grandma. She is tearing up the ivories in heaven，I am sure.

　　Daneen Kaufman Wedekind

　　篇二

　　Winston Churchill: His Other Life***丘吉爾與繪畫***

　　My father，Winston Churchill，began his love affair with painting in his 40s，amid disastrous circumstances. As First Lord of the Admiralty in 1915，he was deeply involved in a campaign in the Dardanelles that could have shortened the course of a bloody world war. But when the mission failed，with great loss of life，Churchill paid the price，both publicly and privately. He was removed from the admiralty and effectively sidelined.

　　Overwhelmed by the catastrophe—“I thought he would die of grief，”said his wife，Clementine– he retired with his family to Hoe Farm，a country retreat in Surrey. There，as Churchill later recalled，“The muse of painting came to my rescue!”

　　Wandering in the garden one day，he chanced upon his sister-in-law sketching with watercolors. He watched her for a few minutes，then borrowed her brush and tried his hand. The muse had cast her spell!

　　Churchill soon decided to experiment with oils. Delighted with this distraction from his dark broodings，Clementine rushed off to buy whatever paints she could find.

　　For Churchill，however，the next step seemed difficult as he contemplated with unaccustomed nervousness the blameless whiteness of a new canvas. He started with the sky and later described how“very gingerly I mixed a little blue paint on the palette，and then with infinite precaution made a mark about as big as a bean upon the affronted snow-white shield. At that moment the sound of a motor car was heard in the drive. From this chariot stepped the gifted wife of Sir John Lavery.

　　“‘Painting!’she declared.‘But what are you hesitating about?Let me have the brush– the big one.’Splash into the turpentine，wallop into the blue and the white，frantic flourish on the palette，and then several fierce strokes and slashes of blue on the absolutely cowering canvas. Anyone could see it could not hit back. The spell was broken. I seized the largest brush and fell upon my victim with berserk fury. I have never felt any awe of a canvas since.”

　　At that time，John Lavery– a Churchill neighbor and celebrated painter– was tutoring Churchill in his art. Later，Lavery said of his unusual pupil：“Had he chosen painting instead of statesmanship，I believe he would have been a great master with the brush.”

　　In painting，Churchill had discovered a companion with whom he was to walk for the greater part of the years that remained to him. After the war，painting would offer deep solace when，in 1921，the death of his mother was followed two months later by the loss of his and Clementine‘s beloved three-year-old daughter，Marigold. Battered by grief，Winston took refuge at the home of friends in Scotland，finding comfort in his painting. He wrote to Clementine：“I went out and painted a beautiful river in the afternoon light with crimson and golden hills in the background. Many tender thoughts my darling one of you & yr sweet kittens. Alas I kept feeling the hurt of the Duckadilly [Marigold’s pet name].”

　　Life and love and hope slowly revived，and in September 1922 I was born. This was also the year that Winston bought Chartwell，the beloved home he was to paint in all its different aspects for the next 40 years.

　　My father must have felt a glow of gratification when in the mid 1920s he won first prize in a prestigious amateur art exhibition held in London. Entries were anonymous，and some of the judges insisted that Winston‘s picture– one of his first of Chartwell– was the work of a professional，not an amateur，and should be disqualified. In the end，they agreed to rely on the artist’s honesty and were delighted when they learned that the picture had been painted by Churchill.

　　Historians have called the decade after 1929，when the Conservative government fell and Winston was out of office，his wilderness years. Politically he may have been wandering in barren places，a lonely fighter trying to awaken Britain to the menace of Hitler，but artistically that wilderness bore abundant fruit. During these years he often painted in the south of France. Of the 500-odd canvases extant，roughly 250 date from 1930 to 1939. One，“The Loup River，Alpes Maritimes，”is owned by the Tate Gallery in London.

　　In 1953，during his second prime ministry，my father had a stroke，and I went with him to the south of France where he convalesced. After five days I wrote sadly in my diary：“Papa is wretched. His paints have been untouched.”

　　Once more the muse，and the magical light of the Riviera，came to his rescue. The next day Winston sent a telegram to Clementine：“Have at last plunged into a daub.”

　　Painting remained a joy to Churchill to the end of his life.“Happy are the painters，”he had written in his book Painting as a Pastime，“for they shall not be lonely. Light and color，peace and hope，will keep them company to the end，or almost to the end，of the day.”And so it was for my father.

　　* Mary Soames，fifth child of Winston and Clementine Churchill，is Chairman of Trustees of the Winston Churchill Memorial Trust.

　　Mary Soames

　　篇三

　　All you remember***你所記得的一切***

　　All you remember about your child being an infant is the incredible awe you felt about the precious miracle you created. You remember having plenty of time to bestow all your wisdom and knowledge. You thought your child would take all of your advice and make fewer mistakes，and be much smarter than you were. You wished for your child to hurry and grow up.

　　All you remember about your child being two is never using the restroom alone or getting to watch a movie without talking animals. You recall afternoons talking on the phone while crouching in the bedroom closet，and being convinced your child would be the first Ivy League1 college student to graduate wearing pullovers2 at the ceremony. You remember worrying about the bag of M&M“s melting in your pocket and ruining your good dress. You wished for your child to be more independent.

　　All you remember about your child being five is the first day of school and finally having the house to yourself. You remember joining the PTA3 and being elected president when you left a meeting to use the restroom. You remember being asked“Is Santa real?”and saying“yes”because he had to be for a little bit longer. You remember shaking the sofa cushions for loose change4，so the toothfairy5 could come and take away your child“s first lost tooth. You wished for your child to have all permanent teeth.

　　All you remember about your child being seven is the carpool6 schedule. You learned to apply makeup in two minutes and brush your teeth in the rearview mirror1 because the only time you had to yourself was when you were stopped at red lights. You considered painting your car yellow and posting a“taxi”sign on the lawn next to the garage door. You remember people staring at you，the few times you were out of the car，because you kept flexing2 your foot and making acceleration3 noises. You wished for the day your child would learn how to drive.

　　All you remember about your child being ten is managing the school fund?raisers. You sold wrapping paper for paint，T?shirts for new furniture，and magazine subscriptions4 for shade trees in the school playground. You remember storing a hundred cases of candy bars in the garage to sell so the school band could get new uniforms，and how they melted together on an unseasonably5 warm spring afternoon. You wished your child would grow out of playing an instrument.

　　All you remember about your child being twelve is sitting in the stands6 during baseball practice and hoping your child“s team would strike out7 fast because you had more important things to do at home. The coach didn”t understand how busy you were. You wished the baseball season would be over soon.

　　All you remember about your child being fourteen is being asked not to stop the car in front of the school in the morning. You had to drive two blocks further and unlock the doors without coming to a complete stop. You remember not getting to kiss your child goodbye or talking to him in front of his friends. You wished your child would be more mature.

　　All you remember about your child being sixteen is loud music and undecipherable8 lyrics9 screamed to a rhythmic beat. You wished for your child to grow up and leave home with the stereo.

　　All you remember about your child being eighteen is the day they were born and having all the time in the world.

　　And，as you walk through your quiet house，you wonder where they went and you wish your child hadn“t grown up so fast.