Sunset
We had a remarkable sunset one day last November.
I was walking in a meadow, the source of a small brook, when the sun, just before setting, after a cold gray day, reached a clear stratum in the horizon. The softest and brightest evening sunlight fell on the dry grass, on the branches of the trees on the opposite horizon, duanwenw and on the leaves of the shrub oaks on the hillside, while our shadows stretched long over the meadow eastward, as if we were only motes in its beams. duanwenw It was such a beautiful sight that we could not have imagined a moment before, and the air was so warm and serene that nothing was needed to make a paradise of that meadow.
The sun set on that retired meadow, where no house was visible, with all the glory and splendor that it lavished on cities, as it has never set before. There was only a solitary marsh-hawk having its wings gilded by the golden light. A hermit looked from his cabin, and a little black-veined brook meandered through the marsh. As we walked in that pure and brilliant light gilding the withered grass and leaves I thought I had never been bathed in such a golden flood, and never would again.
落日
去年十一月的一天，我们目睹了一个极其美丽的日落。
当我漫步于一道小溪发源处的草地之上，那太阳，终于在一个凄苦的寒天之后、暮夕之前，突于天际骤放澄明。这时但见远方天幕下的衰草残茎，山边的树叶橡丛，登时浸在一片柔美而耀眼的绮照之中，而我们自己的身影也长长地伸向草地的东方，仿佛在那缕斜光中只是微尘。周围的风景是那么美，之前还是难以想象，空气也是那么和暖纯净，一时这一片草地实在无异于天上的景象。
此刻那落日的余晕正以它全部的灿烂与辉煌，甚至以往日少见的艳丽，尽情斜映在这一带境远地僻的草地之上。茫茫之中只瞥见一头孤零零的沼鹰，背羽上染尽了金黄。一位隐士从他的小屋向外张望，看见一股水黝黑的小溪，蜿蜒曲折，绕行于这片沼泽。我们漫步于纯美与熠耀的光照，满目衰草枯叶，我想我从来不曾且再也不会沐浴在这么优美的金光波里
The Four Seasons of Life
Our journey on earth consists, like the year, of four seasons: spring, summer, fall and winter.
Life is only loaned to us, and as with everything borrowed, must someday be returned. We are only here for a short stay, and have many tasks. We must contend with pain in order to achieve peace, accept problems if we are to reach success, and shed tears if we are to share laughter. duanwenw We have many lessons to learn. Each and every moment of life is an important one.
In spring, everything grows fresh and new. Lilacs blossom, and the maple and oak trees produce new leaves. It is a time when we are as if newly born into the world.
You are now entering the summer of your life. Everything is now in full bloom. The trees and flowers proudly display all their beauty and elegance. This season doesn’t seem as if it will end, yet it slips by before you know it.
The fall is next, when the leaves drop to the ground, and the farmers gather their crops and reap the rewards of their labor. The harvest moon is full and round, and slightly misted by a passing cloud. This is the most satisfying of the four seasons.
Then all too quickly the winter of your life is upon you, and everything is barren. However, duanwenw there is a peaceful sort of beauty in the wintertime. If you allow your spirit to be free, you will remain youthful longer than you thought possible.
Is winter truly the season to end all seasons?
人生的四季
然后，很快地，生命就会面临人生的冬天，此时万物皆荒凉。然而，冬季却有一种平和的美。如果你肯
放飞心灵，你肯定会比想象中的自己更加年轻。
我们在世间的旅程，就像年轮一样，包含着春夏秋冬四个季节。
生命仅仅是我们暂时借来的，如同所有借来的东西，总有一天得还回去。我们在此只是短暂地停留，并有很多任务需要完成。想要获得安宁，我们必须忍受痛苦；想要获得成功，我们就必须面对种种困难；想要分享欢笑，就得流下泪水。我们有很多课程要学习。生命中的每一个时刻都举足轻重。
春天是万物复苏的季节。丁香开花了，枫树和橡树也都吐露新的枝叶。这就好像我们刚刚来到这世上。
然后，你会步入人生的夏天。万物都处于繁茂的时刻。花草树木自豪地展示着它们的美丽与优雅。这样的季节看起来不会结束，但却在你不经意的时候悄然划过。
接下来就是秋天了。树木的叶子都落了，农民们忙着收获庄稼，收获他们的劳动成果。月儿圆圆的，还被偶尔经过的云蒙上一层薄薄的轻雾。这是最令人感到满足的一个季节。
冬天真的是四季的尾声吗？
The Eagle and his Captor
A Man once caught an Eagle, and after clipping his wings turned him loose among the fowls in his hen-house, where he moped in a corner, looking very dejected and forlorn. After a while his Captor was glad enough to sell him to a neighbour, who took him home and let his wings grow again. As soon as he had recovered the use of them, the Eagle flew out and caught a hare, which he brought home and presented to his benefactor. A fox observed this, and said to the Eagle, “Don’t waste your gifts on him! Go and give them to the man who first caught you; make him your friend, and then perhaps he won’t catch you and clip your wings a second time.”
鹰与捕鹰者
从前，有一个人捉住了一只鹰，随后便剪断了他的翅膀，放入鸡窝中与其它家禽一起饲养，鹰一直呆在角落里暗自悲伤，看上去甚为沮丧和绝望。没过多久，捕获老鹰的那个人很高兴地将鹰卖给了一个邻居，邻居把鹰带回家后又帮它长出了新的翅膀。鹰飞出去抓住了一只兔子，立刻带回家给恩人。一只狐狸看到后，便对老鹰说：“不要在他身上浪费你的猎物，把这份礼物送给以前捕获你的那个人，和他交个朋友，那么，或许他不会再次捕获你，并剪断你的翅膀。”
The Moon can’t be stolen
A Zen master lived the simplest kind of life in a little but at the foot of a mountain.
One evening, while he was away, a thief sneaked into the hut only to find there was nothing in it to steal. The Zen Master returned and found him.
“You have come a long way to visit me, ” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty-handed. duanwenw Please take my clothes as a gift.”
The thief was bewildered, but he took the clothes and ran away.
The Master sat naked, watching the moon.
“Poor fellow, ” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
无法偷走的月亮
一位禅师住在山脚下的小棚屋里，过着极为简朴的生活。
一天夜里，一个小偷趁他外出时潜入他的家中，却发现没什么可偷的，这时禅师回来了，正好和小
偷撞了个满怀。
他对这个不速之客说：“你路途遥远来拜访我，总不能空手而归吧，请把我的衣服带走吧，就当我送你的
礼物。”
小偷有些懵了，但还是带上衣服仓皇而逃。
禅师赤，身，裸，体地坐着，凝望明月.
“可怜的朋友，”他沉思到：“我多希望能送你这轮明月啊。”
哲理英语故事短文启示：迷失本性的人可能会得到博大之心的宽容，却永远无法换回自己心中的那
份清澈和明净。
A little Girl’s Dream
The promise was a long time keeping. But then，so was the dream.
In the early 1950s in a small Southern California town，a little girl hefted yet another load of books onto the tiny library’s counter.
The girl was a reader. Her parents had books all over their home，but not always the ones she wanted. So she’d make her weekly trek to the yellow library with the brown trim，the little one-room bu
ilding where the children’s library actually was just a nook1. Frequently, duanwenw she ventured out of that nook in search of heftier fare.
As the white-haired librarian hand-stamped the due dates in the ten-year-old’s choice，the little girl looked longingly at "The New Book" prominently displayed on the counter. She marveled again at the wonder of writing a book and having it honored like that，right there for the world to see.
That particular day, she confessed her goal.
"When I grow up，" she said，"I "m going to be a writer. I’m going to write books." The librarian looked up from her stamping and smiled，not with the condescension4 so many children receive，but with encouragement. "When you do write that book，" she replied，"bring it into our library and we’ll put it on display，right here on the counter." The little girl promised she would.
As she grew，so did her dream. She got her first job in ninth grade, writing brief personality profiles，which earned her $1.50 each from the local newspaper. The money palled5 in comparison with the magic of seeing her words on paper. A book was a long way off.
She edited her high-school paper，married and started a family，but the itch to write burned deep. Sh
e got a part-time job covering school news at a weekly newspaper. It kept her brain busy as she balanced babies. But no book. She went to work full time for a major daily. Even tried her hand at magazines. Still no book.
settingsunFinally, she believed she had something to say and started a book. She sent it off to two publishers and was rejected. She put it away, sadly. Several years later, the old dream increased in persistence. She got an agent and wrote another book. She pulled the other out of hiding, and soon both were sold.
But the world of book publishing moves slower than that of daily newspapers，duanwenw and she waited two long years. The day the box arrived on her doorstep with its free author’s copies，she ripped it open. Then she cried. She’d waited so long to hold her dream in her hands. Then she remembered that librarian’s invitation，and her promise.
Of course, that particular librarian had died long ago, and the little library had been razed to make way for a larger incarnation. The woman called and got the name of the head librarian. She wrote a letter, telling her how much her predecessor’s words had meant to the girl. She’d be in town for her thirtieth high school reunion, she wrote and could she bring her two books by and give them to the library? The librarian called and said’ "Come." So she did, clutching a copy of each book.
Inside the big new library，the librarian welcomed her warmly. She introduced a reporter from the local newspaper — a descendant10 of the paper she’d begged a chance to write for long ago. Then she presented her books to the librarian，who placed them on the counter with a sign of explanation. Tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks.
Then she hugged the librarian and left，pausing for a picture outside，which proved that dreams can come true and promises can be kept. Even if it takes thirty-eight years. The ten-year-old girl and the writer she’d become posed by the library sign，right next to the reader board，which said: WELCOME BACK，JANN MITCHELL.
小女孩的梦想
这个诺言被长久地遵守着，而这个梦想也同样如此。
20世纪50年代初，在加利福尼亚州南部的一个小镇上，一个小女孩把一摞书放在小图书馆的柜台上。
这个女孩是一位读者，她父母有很多书，但没有哪本是她想看的，因此，她每个星期都会去一次图书

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