染雾文章精选 篇一
慢下来，与自然共舞
现代生活节奏快，人们常常把自己紧紧地套在了快节奏的轨道上，无法停下来欣赏生活的美好。然而，当我们与自然相融合，慢下来，我们会发现生活中的细节和乐趣。
首先，与自然共舞可以帮助我们减压。在喧嚣的城市生活中，人们经常承受着工作压力、家庭压力等各种压力。当我们走进自然，欣赏大自然的美景时，我们会感到心灵的宁静和平和。在大自然中，我们可以放下一切烦恼，暂时摆脱生活的困扰，让心灵得到放松和愉悦。
其次，与自然共舞可以增强我们的身体健康。在城市生活中，我们常常久坐不动，缺乏运动。而在大自然中，我们可以尽情地奔跑、跳跃、呼吸新鲜空气，这对我们的身体健康非常有益。研究表明，与自然亲近的人更容易保持健康的体重和强壮的身体。所以，让自己与自然共舞，不仅可以让我们充满活力，还可以保持身体健康。
最后，与自然共舞可以给我们带来灵感和创造力。在大自然中，我们可以看到美丽的景色、多样的植物和动物。这些都会激发我们的创造力和想象力。许多伟大的作品都是在大自然中创作出来的，比如莎士比亚的戏剧、梵高的画作等等。所以，与自然共舞可以让我们的思维更加开阔，创造出更加出色的作品。
总之，与自然共舞是一种让我们放松心情、增强身体健康、激发创造力的好方法。无论是在工作之余，还是在周末休闲时间，我们都应该走出家门，与自然亲近，慢下来，享受大自然的美好。让我们与自然共舞，让生活更加精彩！
文章精选 篇二
探索未知的美丽
人类的进步离不开对未知的探索。无论是科学、艺术还是人文领域，都需要我们勇于去探索未知，去发现新的美丽。
首先，探索未知可以帮助我们拓宽视野。人类的知识是有限的，而世界的美是无限的。当我们勇敢地踏入未知领域，探索未知的奥秘时，我们会发现世界的多样性和美丽之处。无论是探索未知的地理景观，还是研究未知的科学领域，我们都能够了解到以前未曾了解的事物，从而丰富自己的知识和经验。
其次，探索未知可以激发我们的创造力。在未知领域，我们会面临各种各样的问题和挑战，需要我们寻找解决方案。这种挑战可以激发我们的创造力，让我们找到新的方法和途径。很多伟大的发明和创新都是在探索未知的过程中产生的。所以，勇于探索未知可以让我们的创造力得到提升，实现自我的突破。
最后，探索未知可以让我们感受到生命的意义。人类存在的意义不仅仅在于生活的舒适和物质的满足，更在于对未知的追求和探索。当我们勇敢地面对未知，发现新的美丽时，我们会感到生命的充实和意义的深远。探索未知可以让我们更加珍惜生命，更加热爱生活。
总之，探索未知是一种让我们拓宽视野、激发创造力、感受生命意义的好方法。无论是在科学研究、艺术创作还是人文探索中，我们都应该勇于面对未知，勇敢地探索发现新的美丽。让我们一起去探索未知，让生活更加丰富多彩！
文章精选 篇三
What I Have Lived for
我的人生追求
Bertrand Russell罗素
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, in a wayward course,are over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
有三种简单然而无比强烈的激情左右了我的一生;对爱的渴望,对知识的探索和对人类苦难的难以忍受的怜悯。这些激情像飓风,反复地吹拂过深重的苦海,濒于绝境。
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy-ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all my rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it ,next because it relieves loneliness-that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the co1d unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what-at last-I have found.
我寻找爱,首先是因为它使人心醉神迷。这种陶醉是如此的美妙,使我愿意牺牲所有的余生去换取几个小时这样的欣喜。 我寻找爱,还因为它解除孤独(在可怕的孤独中,一颗颤抖的灵魂从世界的边缘看到冰冷、无底、死寂的深渊。最后,我寻找爱,还因为在爱的交融中,神秘而又具体入微地,我看到了圣贤和诗人们想象出的天堂的前景。 这就是我所寻找的,而且,虽然对人生来说似乎过于美妙,这也是我终于找到了的。
With equa1 passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A 1ittle of this, but not much, I have achieved.
以同样的激情我探索知识。我希望能够理解人类的心灵。我希望能够知道群星为何闪烁。我试图领悟毕达哥拉斯所景仰的数字力量,它支配着此消彼长。仅在不大的一定程度上,我达到了此目的。
Love and knowledge, so far they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their pain make a mockery of what human life should be.
I long to alleviate the evi1, but I can't, and I too suffer.
爱和知识,只要有可能,通向着天堂。但是怜悯总把我带回尘世。痛苦呼喊的回声回荡在我的内心。忍饥挨饿的孩子,惨遭压迫者摧残的受害者,被儿女们视为可憎的负担的痛苦无助的老人,使人类所应有的生活成为了笑柄。我渴望能够减少邪恶,但是我无能为力,而且我自己也在忍受折磨。
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and wou1d gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
这就是我的一生。我发现它值得一过。如果再给我一次机会,我会很高高兴地再活它一次。
文章精选 篇四
My Left Foot
I was now five, and still I showed no real sign of intelligence. I showed no apparent interest in things except with my toes – more especially those of my left foot. Although my natural habits were clean I could not aid myself, but in this respect my father took care of me. I used to lie on my back all the time in the kitchen or, on bright warm sunny days, out in the garden, a little bundle of crooked muscle and twisted nerves, surrounded by a family that loved me and hoped for me and that made me part of their own warmth and humanity. I was lonely, imprisoned in a world of my own, unable to communicate with others, cut off, separated from them as though a glass wall stood between my existence and theirs, thrusting me beyond the sphere of their lives and activities. I longed to run about and play with the rest, but I was unable to break loose from my bondage.
Then, suddenly, it happened! In a moment everything was changed, my future life moulded into a definite shape, my mother’s faith in me rewarded and her secret fear changed into open triumph. It happened so quickly, so simply after all the years of waiting and uncertainty that I can see and feel the whole scene as if it had happened last week. It was the afternoon of a cold, grey December day. The streets outside glistened with snow; the white sparkling flakes stuck and melted on the window-panes and hung on the boughs of the trees like molten silver. The wind howled dismally, whipping up little whirling columns of snow that rose and fell at every fresh gust. And over all, the dull, murky sky stretched like a dark canopy, a vast infinity of greyness.
Inside, all the family were gathered round the big kitchen fire that lit up the little room with a warm glow and made giant shadows dance on the walls and ceiling.
In a corner Mona and Paddy were sitting huddled together, a few torn school primers before them. They were writing down little sums on to an old chipped slate, using a bright piece of yellow chalk. I was close to them, propped up by a pillow against the wall, watching.
It was the chalk that attracted me so much. It was a long slender stick of vivid yellow. I had never seen anything like it before, and it showed up so well against the black surface of the slate that I was fascinated by it as much as if it had been a stick of gold.
Suddenly I wanted desperately to do what my sister was doing. Then – without thinking or knowing exactly what I was doing, I reached out and took the stick of chalk out of my sister’s hand – with my left foot.
I do not know why I used my left foot to do this. It is a puzzle to many people as well as to myself, for, although I had displayed a curious interest in my toes at an early age, I had never attempted before this to use either of my feet in any way. They could have been as useless to me as were my hands. That day, however, my left foot, apparently on its own volition, reached out and very impolitely took the chalk out of my sister’s hand.
I held it tightly between my toes, and, acting on an impulse, made a wild sort of scribble with it on the slate. Next moment I stopped, a bit dazed, surprised, looking down at the stick of yellow chalk stuck between my toes, not knowing what to do with it next, hardly knowing how it got there. Then I looked and became aware that everyone had stopped talking and were staring at me silently. Nobody stirred. Mona, her black curls framing her chubby little face, stared at me with great big eyes and open mouth. Across the open hearth, his face lit by flames, sat my father, leaning forward, hands outspread on his knees, his shoulders tense. I felt the sweat break out on my forehead.
My mother came in from the pantry with a steaming pot in her hand. She stopped midway between the table and the fire, feeling the tension flowing through the room. She followed their stare and saw me, in the corner. Her eyes looked from my face down to my foot, with the chalk gripped between my toes. She put down the pot.
The she crossed over to me and knelt down beside me, as she had done so many times before. ‘I’ll show you what to do with it, Chris,’ she said, very slowly and in a queer, jerky way, her face flushed as if with some inner excitement.
Taking another piece of chalk from Mona, she hesitated, then very deliberately drew, on the floor in front of me, the single letter ‘A’. ‘Copy that,’ she said, looking steadily at me. ‘Copy it, Christy.’ I couldn’t.
I looked about me, looked around at the faces that were turned towards me, excited faces that were at that moment frozen, immobile, eager, waiting for a miracle in their midst. The stillness was profound. The room was full of flame and shadow that danced before my eyes and lulled my taut nerves into a sort of waking sleep. I could hear the sound of the water-tap dripping in the pantry, the loud ticking of the clock on the mantelshelf, and the soft hiss and crackle of the logs on the open hearth.
I tried again. I put out my foot and made a wild jerking stab with the chalk which produced a very crooked line and nothing more. Mother held the slate steady for me. ‘Try again, Chris,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Again.’
I did. I stiffened my body and put my left foot out again, for the third time. I drew one side of the letter. I drew half the other side. Then the stick of chalk broke and I was left with a stump. I wanted to fling it away and give up. Then I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder. I tried once more. Out went my foot. I shook, I sweated and strained every muscle. My hands were so tightly clenched that my finger nails bit into the flesh. I set my teeth so hard that I nearly pierced my lower lip. Everything in the room swam till the faces around me were mere patches of white. But – I drew it – the letter ‘A’. There it was on the floor before me. Shaky, with awkward, wobbly sides and a very uneven centre line. But it was the letter ‘A’. I looked up. I saw my mother’s face for a moment, tears on her cheeks. Then my father stooped down and hoisted me on his shoulder.
I had done it! It had started – the thing that was to give my mind its chance of expressing itself. True, I couldn’t speak with my lips, but now I would speak through something more lasting than spoken words – written words.
That one letter, scrawled on the floor with a broken bit of yellow chalk gripped between my toes, was my road to a new world, my key to mental freedom. It was to provide a source of relaxation to the tense, taut thing that was me which panted for expression behind a twisted mouth.
