英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文（通用35篇）

　　無(wú)論是身處學(xué)校還是步入社會(huì)，大家都知道美文吧？美文對(duì)作者主觀感情的要求是所有文體中僅次于詩(shī)歌的。那么問(wèn)題來(lái)了，怎樣才能完成一篇優(yōu)秀的美文呢？以下是小編收集整理的英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文，僅供參考，歡迎大家閱讀。

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇1

　　In this crisis I think I may be pardoned if I do not address the House at any length today, and I hope that any of my friends and colleagues or former colleagues who are affected by the political reconstruction will make all allowances for any lack of ceremony with which it has been necessary to act. I say to the House as I said to Ministers who have joined this government, I have nothing to offer but blood, toil,

　　sweat and tears. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many months of struggle and suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I say it is to wage war by land, sea and air. War with all our might and with all the strength God has given us, and to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark and unpleasant catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word. It is victory. Victory at all costs—victory in spite of all terrors—victory, however long and hard the road may be,

　　for without victory there is no survival. Let that be realized. No survival for the British Empire, no survival for all that the British Empire has stood for, no survival for the urge, the impulse of the ages, that mankind shall move forward toward his goal. I take up my task in light heart and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. I feel entitled at this juncture, at this time, to claim the aid of all and to say, “Come then, let us go forward together with our united strength.”

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇2

　　My house is perfect. By great good fortune I have found a housekeeper no less to my mind, a low-voiced, light-footed woman of discreet age, strong and deft enough to render me all the service I require,

　　and not afraid of loneliness. She rises very early. By my breakfast-time there remains little to be done under the roof save dressing of meals. Very rarely do I hear even a clink of crockery; never the closing of a door or window. Oh, blessed silence! My house is perfect. Just large enough to allow the grace of order in domestic circumstance; just that superfluity of inner space,

　　to lack which is to be less than at one's ease. The fabric is sound; the work in wood and plaster tells of a more leisurely and a more honest age than ours. The stairs do not creak under my step; I am attacked by no unkindly draught; I can open or close a window without muscle-ache. As to such trifles as the color and device of wall-paper,

　　I confess my indifference; be the walls only plain, and I am satisfied. The first thing in one's home is comfort; let beauty of detail be added if one has the means, the patience, the eye. To me, this little book-room is beautiful, and chiefly because it is home. Through the greater part of life I was homeless. Many places have I lived, some which my soul disliked, and some which pleased me well; but never till now with that sense of security which makes a home. At any moment I might have been driven forth by evil accident, by disturbing necessity. For all that time did I say within myself: Some day, perchance, I shall have a home;

　　yet the "perchance" had more and more of emphasis as life went on, and at the moment when fate was secretly smiling on me, I had all but abandoned hope. I have my home at last. This house is mine on a lease of a score of years. So long I certainly shall not live; but, if I did, even so long should I have the money to pay my rent and buy my food. I am no cosmopolite. Were I to think that I should die away from England, the thought would be dreadful to me. And in England, this is the place of my choice; this is my home.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇3

　　One of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey: but I like to go by myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company enough for me. I am then never less alone than when alone. “The fields his study, nature was his book.” I cannot see the wit of walking and talking at the same time.

　　When I am in the country I wish to vegetate like the country. I am not for criticizing hedges and black cattle. I go out for town in order to forget the town and all that is in it. There are those who for this purpose go to watering places, and carry the metropolis with them. I like more space and fewer obstacles. I like solitude, when I give myself up to it, for the sake of solitude; nor do I ask for “a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper solitude is sweet.” The soul of journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel,

　　do, just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all obstacles and all inconveniences; to leave ourselves behind, much more to get rid of others. It is because I want a little breathing space to ponder on indifferent matters, where contemplation “May plume her feathers and let grow her wings, that in the various bustle of resort were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaired.” I absent myself from the town for a while, without feeling at a loss the moment I am left by myself. Instead of a friend in a post chaise or in a carriage, to exchange good things with, and vary the same stale topics over again, for once let me have a time free from manners.

　　Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and the three hours' march to dinner—and then to thinking! It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone heaths. I laugh, I run, I leap, I sing for joy! From the point of yonder rolling cloud I plunge into my past being, and revel there as the sun-burnt Indian plunges headlong into the wave that wafts him to his native shore. Then long-forgotten things like “sunken wrack and sumless treasuries,” burst upon my eager sight, and I begin to feel, think, and be myself again. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attempts at wit or dull commonplaces, mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇4

　　Half the people on our streets look as though life was a sorry business. It is hard to find a happy looking man or woman. Worry is the cause of their woebegone appearance. Worry makes the wrinkles; worry cuts the deep, down-glancing lines on the face; worry is the worst disease of our modern times. Care is contagious; it is hard work being cheerful at a funeral, and it is a good deal harder to keep the frown from your face when you are in the throng of the worry worn ones. Yet, we have no right to be dispensers of gloom; no matter how heavy our loads may seem to be we have no right to throw their burden on others nor even to cast the shadow of them on other hearts.

　　Anxiety is instability. Fret steals away force. He who dreads tomorrow trembles today. Worry is weakness. The successful men may be always wide-awake, but they never worry. Fret and fear are like fine sand, thrown into life's delicate mechanism; they cause more than half the friction; they steal half the power. Cheer is strength. Nothing is so well done as that which is done heartily, and nothing is so heartily done as that which is done happily. Be happy, is an injunction not impossible of fulfillment. Pleasure may be an accident; but happiness comes in definite ways. It is the casting out of our foolish fears that we may have room for a few of our common joys. It is the telling our worries to wait until we get through appreciating our blessings.

　　Take a deep breath, raise your chest, lift your eyes from the ground, look up and think how many things you have for which to be grateful, and you will find a smile growing where one may long have been unknown. Take the right kind of thought—for to take no thought would be sin—but take the calm, unanxious thought of your business, your duties, your difficulties, your disappointments and all the things that once have caused you fear, and you will find yourself laughing at most of them.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇5

　　One day thirty years ago Marseilles lay in the burning sun. A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarity in southern France than at any other time before or since.

　　Everything in Marseilles and about Marseilles had stared at the fervid sun, and had been stared at in return, until a staring habit had become universal there. Strangers were stared out of countenance by staring white houses, staring white streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills from which verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not fixedly staring and glaring were the vines drooping under their loads of grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air barely moved their faint leaves. The universal stare made the eyes ache.

　　Towards the distant blue of the Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved by light clouds of mist slowly rising from the evaporation of the sea, but it softened nowhere else. Far away the dusty vines overhanging wayside cottages, and the monotonous wayside avenues of parched trees without shade, dropped beneath the stare of earth and sky. So did the horses with drowsy bells, in long files of carts, creeping slowly towards the interior; so did their recumbent drivers, when they were awake, which rarely happened; so did the exhausted laborers in the fields. Everything that lived or grew was oppressed by the glare; except the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone walls, and cicada, chirping its dry hot chirp, like a rattle. The very dust was scorched brown, and something quivered in the atmosphere as if the air itself were panting. Blinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and drawn to deep out the stare.

　　Grant it but a chink or a keyhole, and it shot in like a white-hot arrow.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇6

　　Each spring brings a new blossom of wildflowers in the ditches along the highway I travel daily to work. There is one particular blue flower that has always caught my eyes.

　　I've noticed that it blooms only in the morning hours, the afternoon sun is too warm for it. Every day for approximately two weeks, I see those beautiful flowers. This spring, I started a wildflower garden in our yard. I can look out of the kitchen window while doing the dishes and see the flowers. I've often thought that those lovely blue flowers from the ditches would look great in that bed alongside other wildflowers. Everyday I drove past the flowers thinking, “I'll stop on my way home and dig them.” “Gee, I don't want to get my good clothes dirty...” Whatever the reason, I never stopped to dig them. My husband even gave me a folding shovel one year for my trunk to be used for that expressed purpose. One day on my way home from work, I was saddened to see that the highway department had mowed the ditches and the pretty blue flowers were gone. I thought to myself, “Way to go, you waited too long. You should have done it when you first saw them blooming this spring.”

　　A week ago we were shocked and saddened to learn that my oldest sister-in-law has a terminal brain tumor. She is 20 years older than my husband and unfortunately, because of age and distance, we haven’t been as close as we all would have liked. I can not help but see the connection between the pretty blue flowers and the relationship between my husband's sister and us. I do believe that God has given us some time left to plant some wonderful memories that will bloom every year for us. And yes, if I see the blue flowers again, you can bet I'll stop and transplant them to my wildflower garden.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇7

　　I have known very few writers, but those I have known, and whom I respect, confess at once that they have little idea where they are going when they first set pen to paper.

　　They have a character, perhaps two; they are in that condition of eager discomfort which passes for inspiration; all admit radical changes of destination once the journey has begun; one, to my certain knowledge,spent nine months on a novel about Kashmir, then reset the whole thing in the Scottish Highland. I never heard of anyone making an “outline”, as we were taught at school. In the breaking and remaking,in the timing, interweaving,beginning again, the writer comes to discern things in his material which were not consciously in his mind when he began. This organic process, often leading to moments of extraordinary self-discovery, is of an indescribable fascination. A blurred image appears; he adds a brushstroke and another, and it is gone; but something was there, and he will not rest till he has captured it.

　　Sometimes the passion within a writer outlives a book he has written. I have heard of writers who read nothing but their own books; like adolescents they stand before the mirror, and still cannot understand the exact outline of the vision before them. For the same reason, writers talk endlessly about their own books, digging up hidden meanings, super-imposing new ones, begging response from those around them. Of course a writer doing this is misunderstood: he might as well try to explain a crime or a love affair. He is also, incidentally, an unforgivable bore. This temptation to cover the distance between himself and the reader, to study his image in the sight of those who do not know him, can be his undoing:he has begun to write to please.

　　A young English writer made the pertinent observation a year or two back that the talent goes into the first draft, and the art into the drafts that follow. For this reason also the writer, like any other artist,has no resting place, no crowd or movement in which he may take comfort, no judgment from outside which can replace the judgment from within. A writer makes order out of the anarchy of his heart; he submits himself to a more ruthless discipline than any critic dreamed of, and when he flirts with fame, he is taking time off from living with himself, from the search for what his world contains at its inmost point.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇8

　　In order to experience everlasting love in life, you ought to first figure out what is missing in your life and then fill in the gaps. People fall in and out of love because they expect their lovers to be everything to them and do everything for them. They then become dissatisfied when the partner fails to meet all their requirements. If you have a dream of achieving everlasting love you better create your very own life crowned by hobbies, interests and beneficial passions. This makes you a full lover when you enjoy a complete, interesting life on your own. Create a world of your own. On your to-do-list add forgiveness. It is always healthy to forgive while you can, disappointments and sadness is a part of life.

　　Some people find it hard to forgive their partners especially if they happened to catch them cheating on them. Seek professional help from a marriage and relationship counselor. This is an important move towards search for everlasting love. Most buried resentments are the cause to failed marriages and broken relationships. At one time they resurface and blow the present things out of proportion. To find a smooth sail in your love life you have to learn to forgive and move on with a clean slate. Accept changes when they arrive instead of fighting the reality. In life change is inevitable. At one time you will be loved, dumped, married, you will have children, become sick and die. You should acknowledge the happenings in life and move through them strongly. No matter how settled you might be it is good to know that things can change in an instant.

　　Always accept the unexpected. Always find Happiness in what you have and be grateful to own what you have. It is a great secret to everlasting love. Despite the greatest fear and uncertainties of the unknown, when the inevitable things happen you will look back on the good old times and wish that you had been more grateful when things were more colorful. To enjoy your love life you should give thanks every moment and learn to appreciate the small problems we experience because unknown to us they can get worse and some time they probably will. To experience how it feels to have everlasting love, create time for each other as lovers. Many people who are unhappy keep on postponing time to be together. People get caught up in the many and demanding daily activities and forget to get time to live for today.

　　It happens to me and you. There will always be more laundry, more house chores and more errands to be carried out. It is a routine where we retire to bed when we are very exhausted late at night only to awake and follow the same routine again the next day. To live life to the fullest stop at some point and take time for yourself and for each other too. Today might be the only gift you have in life so live like there is no tomorrow. The precious moments we reckon in life are achieved by creating time for them against the much pressure of work. Create such short and fleeting moments everyday to enjoy everlasting love.

　　英語(yǔ)的晨讀美文 篇9

　　I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the field or the woods all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he cannot sit down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where he can :see the folks,:” and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate himself for his day’s solitude; and hence he wonders how the student can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui and :the blues:; but he does not realize that the student, though in the house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society that the latter does, though it may be a more condensed form of it.

　　Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are. We have had to agree on a certain set of rules, called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; we live thick and are in each other’s way, and stumble over one another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty communications. Consider the girls in a factory---never alone, hardly in their dreams. It would be better if there were but one inhabitant to a square mile, as where I live. The value of a man is not in his skin, that we should touch him.

　　I have a great deal of company in my house; especially in the morning, when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons, that some one may convey an idea of my situation. I am no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden Pond itself. What company has that lonely lake, I pray?

　　And yet it has not the blue devils, but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint of its waters. The sun is alone, except in thick weather, when there sometimes appear to be two, but one is a mock sun. god is alone---but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a bumblebee. I am no more lonely than the Millbrook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first spider in a new house.

　　譯文：

　　我發(fā)現(xiàn)人若大部分時(shí)間用于獨(dú)處，將有益身心。與人為伴，即使是摯友，也很快會(huì)有厭煩或虛度光陰的感覺(jué)。我愛(ài)獨(dú)處，我發(fā)現(xiàn)沒(méi)有比獨(dú)處更好的伴侶了。出國(guó)，身在熙攘人群中，要比退守陋室更讓人寂寞。心有所想，身有所系的人總是孤身一人，不論他身處何地。獨(dú)處與否也不是由人與人之間的距離來(lái)確定。在劍橋苦讀的學(xué)子雖身處蜂巢般擁擠的.教室，實(shí)際上卻和沙漠中的苦行僧一樣，是在獨(dú)處。家人終日耕于田間，伐于山野，此時(shí)他雖孤單但并不寂寞，因他專心于工作;但待到他日暮而息，卻未必能忍受形影相吊，空有思緒做伴的時(shí)光，他必到“可以看見(jiàn)大伙兒”的去處去找樂(lè)子，如他所認(rèn)為的那樣以補(bǔ)償白日里的孤獨(dú);因此他無(wú)法理解學(xué)子如何能竟夜終日獨(dú)坐而不心生厭倦或倍感凄涼;然而他沒(méi)意識(shí)到，學(xué)子雖身在學(xué)堂，但心系勞作，但是耕于心田，伐于學(xué)林，這正和農(nóng)人一樣，學(xué)子在尋求的無(wú)非是和他一樣的快樂(lè)與陪伴，只是形式更簡(jiǎn)潔罷了。

　　與人交往通常都因唾手可得而毫無(wú)價(jià)值，在頻繁的相處中，我們無(wú)暇從彼此獲取新價(jià)值。我們每日三餐相聚，反復(fù)讓?script>s("content_relate");

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