關(guān)于長篇英語優(yōu)美文章欣賞
關(guān)于長篇英語優(yōu)美文章欣賞
閱讀是外語學(xué)習(xí)中最基本也是最重要的技能之一。所以對于高中階段學(xué)生來說閱讀水平的提高是他們英語學(xué)習(xí)過程中的重要任務(wù)。下面是學(xué)習(xí)啦小編帶來的關(guān)于長篇優(yōu)美英語文章欣賞，歡迎閱讀!
關(guān)于長篇優(yōu)美英語文章欣賞篇一
Aspirin: Exciting New Benefits(阿斯匹林：令人激動的新功效)
Aspirin may be the most familiar drug in the world——but its power to heal goes far beyond the usual aches and pains. Exciting new studies suggest that aspirin can help fight a wide range of serious illnesses.“It now seems to be a benefit in so many areas of health，”says Dr. Debra Judelson，medical director of the Women‘s Heart Institute in Beverly Hills，Calif.“I advise most of my patients，as long as they aren’t allergic to aspirin and don‘t have bleeding problems，to take low-dose aspirin.”
Here are some major illnesses and conditions that aspirin or aspirin-like drugs might help prevent.
Alzheimer‘s.“Research over the last five years has shown that inflammation within the brain plays a role in the development of Alzheimer’s disease，”says Dr. Richard B. Lipton，professor of psychiatry，neurology and epidemiology at Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York City. This may explain studies showing that people who have regularly taking anti-inflammatory drugs for other reasons，such as to treat arthritis or to prevent cardiovascular disease，are less likely to develop Alzheimer‘s.
“Elderly people who take aspirin have a lower rate of cognitive loss，”says Dr. Charles H. Hennekens of the University of Miami School of Medicine.“So aspirin may have an impact not just on Alzheimer‘s but on the large number of patients who experience memory loss with age.”
Diabetes-Related Heart Disease. Researchers have found evidence that diabetics are prone to an increased production of thromboxane，a substance that encourages platelets to clump together. Due，in part，to this effect，people with diabetes are two to four times more likely than non-diabetics to die from the complications of cardiovascular disease.
Aspirin helps prevent diabetes-related heart disease，in partly by blocking the synthesis of thromboxane. The Physicians‘Health Study，a landmark clinical trial directed by Dr. Hennekens，revealed a 44-percent reduction in heart attacks in men placed on aspirin therapy，and an even greater reduction among diabetic men. The American Diabetes Association recommends using low-dose aspirin to reduce the development of cardiovascular disease in my of the more than 14 million adult diabetics in the United States.
Cancer. Over the last decade there has been keen interest in the use of aspirin to prevent cancer.“Experiments have shown that non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs，including aspirin，inhibit tumors in a whole array of cancers，including cancers of the colon，esophagus and stomach，”says Dr. Michael Thun，vice president for epidemiology and surveillance research for the American Cancer Society. At Harvard Medical School，the long-term Nurses‘Health Study(which involves nearly 90，000 female nurses)，has revealed a 30-percent reduction in colorectal cancer among those women who used aspirin regularly for 10 to 19 years and a 44-percent reduction after 20 years of consistent aspirin use.
Heart Attack. Most of us know that the Food and Drug Administration(FDA)recommends aspirin as a way of preventing heart attacks in those known to have a heart condition，but few of us realize it can help at the onset of an attack. In 1998 the FDA advised that individuals experiencing the symptoms of a heart attack should immediately take aspirin. A worldwide study of 17，187 patients directed by Dr. Hennekens has shown that there is a 23-percent reduction in the death rate when aspirin is taken within 24 hours of experiencing heart-attack symptoms.
Cardiologist Debra Judelson has seen its benefits firsthand. On an airplane flight，a fellow passenger turned pale，began suffering chest pains and had trouble breathing. She quickly gave the man two aspirin，and in a few moments his pain abated，his lung cleared and his color returned.
When the man was taken to a hospital，doctors found that one of his coronary arteries was more than 95-percent blocked.“The doctors opened the vessel and sent him home two days later，”Dr. Judelson says. The aspirin had disrupted the formation of blood clots in the clogged artery.
“If you think you‘re having a heart attack，chew two aspirin，”advised Dr. Judelson.“Chewing leads to more rapid absorption than swallowing whole. With a heart attack，minutes mean muscle. The longer you wait，the more muscle is damaged.”
Antibiotic-Induced Hearing Loss. Research suggests that hearing loss associated with common antibiotics called aminoglycosides can be curtailed by taking aspirin along with the drugs.“These antibiotics are among the most commonly used throughout the world，”explains Jochen Schacht，professor of biological chemistry at the University of Michigan Medical School.“Many bacterial infections that are resistant to other drugs respond best to these. We estimate that ten percent of all those admitted to our hospital receive aminoglycosides.”
At the same time，says Schacht，“the world Health Organization considers these drugs a significant cause of preventable deafness.”They can combine with iron in the body to form free radicals——unstable molecules that can damage cells，including the thousands of tiny hair cells found in the inner ear. Once these hair cells are damaged，the inner ear loses its ability to detect sounds，leading to permanent hearing loss.
Preliminary studies in animals indicate that salicylate——what aspirin becomes after it is broken down by the body——prevents the formation of free radicals and，thus，antibiotic-induced hearing loss.
Before beginning daily aspirin use，check with your physician. Despite their enthusiasm for aspirin，doctors remind us there can be significant risk for some people in taking the drug. By thinning the blood，aspirin can retard clotting and cause excessive bleeding. So regular aspirin use may not be appropriate for people with digestive disorders，gastrointestinal bleeding or other bleeding problems. Those planning to undergo even minor surgery should tell their doctors if they‘re on aspirin therapy. Also，aspirin isn’t recommended for children and teens because of its association with Reye‘s syndrome，a rare but dangerous childhood disease.
For many，however，aspirin may be just the therapy to help prevent some of our most dreaded illnesses.“I think it‘s the wonder drug of the 21st century，”says Dr. Hennekens
Harriet Webster
關(guān)于長篇優(yōu)美英語文章欣賞篇二
My Friend, Albert Einstein (我的朋友阿爾伯特•愛因斯坦)
He was one of the greatest scientists the world has ever known，yet if I had to convey the essence of Albert Einstein in a single word，I would choose simplicity. Perhaps an anecdote will help. Once，caught in a downpour，he took off his hat and held it under his coat. Asked why，he explained，with admirable logic，that the rain would damage the hat，but his hair would be none the worse for its wetting. This knack for going instinctively to the heart of a matter was the secret of his major scientific discoveries——this and his extraordinary feeling for beauty.
I first met Albert Einstein in 1935，at the famous Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton，N. J. He had been among the first to be invited to the Institute，and was offered carte blanche as to salary. To the director‘s dismay，Einstein asked for an impossible sum：It was far too small. The director had to plead with him to accept a larger salary.
I was in awe of Einstein，and hesitated before approaching him about some ideas I had been working on. When I finally knocked on his door，a gentle voice said，“Come”—with a rising inflection that made the single word both a welcome and a question. I entered his office and found him seated at a table，calculating and smoking his pipe. Dressed in ill-fitting clothes，his hair characteristically awry，he smiled a warm welcome. His utter naturalness at once set me at ease.
As I began to explain my ideas，he asked me to write the equations on the blackboard so he could see how they developed. Then came the staggering—and altogether endearing—request：“Please go slowly. I do not understand things quickly.”This from Einstein!He said it gently，and I laughed. From then on，all vestiges of fear were gone.
Einstein was born in 1879 in the German city of Ulm. He had been no infant prodigy;indeed，he was so late in learning to speak that his parents feared he was a dullard. In school，though his teachers saw no special talent in him，the signs were already there. He taught himself calculus，for example，and his teachers seemed a little afraid of him because he asked questions they could not answer. At the age of 16，he asked himself whether a light wave would seem stationary if one ran abreast of it. From that innocent question would arise，ten years later，his theory of relativity.
Einstein failed his entrance examinations at the Swiss Federal Polytechnic School，in Zurich，but was admitted a year later. There he went beyond his regular work to study the masterworks of physics on his own. Rejected when he applied for academic positions，he ultimately found work，in 1902，as a patent examiner in Berne，and there in 1905 his genius burst into fabulous flower.
Among the extraordinary things he produced in that memorable year were his theory of relativity，with its famous offshoot，E=mc(energy equals mass times the speed of light squared)，and his quantum theory of light. These two theories were not only revolutionary，but seemingly contradictory：The former was intimately linked to the theory that light consists of waves，while the latter said it consists somehow of particles. Yet this unknown young man boldly proposed both at once—and he was right in both cases，though how he could have been is far too complex a story to tell here.
Collaborating with Einstein was an unforgettable experience. In 1937，the Polish physicist Leopold Infeld and I asked if we could work with him. He was pleased with the proposal，since he had an idea about gravitation waiting to be worked out in detail. Thus we got to know not merely the man and the friend，but also the professional.
The intensity and depth of his concentration were fantastic. When battling a recalcitrant problem，he worried it as an animal worries its prey. Often，when we found ourselves up against a seemingly insuperable difficulty，he would stand up，put his pipe on the table，and say in his quaint English，“I will a little tink”(he could not pronounce“th”)。Then he would pace up and down，twirling a lock of his long，graying hair around his fore-finger.
A dreamy，faraway and yet inward look would come over his face. There was no appearance of concentration，no furrowing of the brow——only a placid inner communion. The minutes would pass，and then suddenly Einstein would stop pacing as his face relaxed into a gentle smile. He had found the solution to the problem. Sometimes it was so simple that Infeld and I could have kicked ourselves for not having thought of it. But the magic had been performed invisibly in the depths of Einstein‘s mind，by a process we could not fathom.
When his wife died he was deeply shaken，but insisted that now more than ever was the time to be working hard. I remember going to his house to work with him during that sad time. His face was haggard and grief-lined，but he put forth a great effort to concentrate. To help him，I steered the discussion away from routine matters into more difficult theoretical problems，and Einstein gradually became absorbed in the discussion. We kept at it for some two hours，and at the end his eyes were no longer sad. As I left，he thanked me with moving sincerity.“It was a fun，”he said. He had had a moment of surcease from grief，and then groping words expressed a deep emotion.
Although Einstein felt no need for religious ritual and belonged to no formal religious ritual and belonged to no formal religious group，he was the most deeply religious man I have known. He once said to me，“Ideas come from God，”and one could hear the capital“G”in the reverence with which he pronounced the word. On the marble fireplace in the mathematics building at Princeton University is carved，in the original German，what one might call his scientific credo：“God is subtle，but he is not malicious.”By this Einstein meant that scientists could expect to find their task difficult，but not hopeless：The Universe was a Universe of law，and God was not confusing us with deliberate paradoxes and contradictions.
Einstein was a accomplished amateur musician. We used to play duets，he on the violin，I at the piano. One day he surprised me by saying Mozart was the greatest composer of all. Beethoven“created”his music，but the music of Mozart was of such purity and beauty one felt he had merely“found”it——that it had always existed as part of the inner beauty of the Universe，waiting to be revealed.
It was this very Mozartean simplicity that most characterized Einstein‘s methods. His 1905 theory of relativity，for example，was built on just two simple assumptions. One is the so-called principle of relativity，which means，roughly speaking，that we cannot tell whether we are at rest or moving smoothly. The other assumption is that the speed of light is the same no matter what the speed of the object that produces it. You can see how reasonable this is if you think of agitating a stick in a lake to create waves. Whether you wiggle the stick from a stationary pier，or from a rushing speedboat，the waves，once generated，are on their own，and their speed has nothing to do with that of the stick……
Each of these assumptions，by itself，was so plausible as to seem primitively obvious. But together they were in such violent conflict that a lesser man would have dropped one or the other and fled in panic. Einstein daringly kept both——and by so doing he revolutionized physics. For he demonstrated they could，after all，exist peacefully side by side，provided we gave up cherished beliefs about the nature of time.
Science is like a house of cards，with concepts like time and space at the lowest level. Tampering with time brought most of the house tumbling down，and it was this that made Einstein‘s work so important——and controversial. At a conference in Princeton in honor of his 70th birthday，one of the speakers，a Nobel Prize winner，tried to convey the magical quality of Einstein’s achievement. Words failed him，and with a shrug of helplessness he pointed to his wristwatch，and said in tones of awed amazement，“It all came from this.”His very ineloquence made this the most eloquent tribute I have heard to Einstein‘s genius.
Although fame had little effect on Einstein as a person，he could not escape it;he was，of course，instantly recognizable. One autumn Saturday，I was walking with him in Princeton discussing some technical matters. Parents and alumni were streaming excitedly toward the stadium，their minds on the coming football game. As they approached us，they paused in sudden recognition，and a momentary air of solemnity came over them as if they had been reminded of a different world. Yet Einstein seemed totally unaware of this effect and went on with the discussion as though they were not there.
We think of Einstein as one concerned only with the deepest aspects of science. But he saw scientific principles in everyday things to which most of us would give barely a second thought. He once asked me if I had ever wondered why a man‘s feet will sink into either dry or completely submerged sand，while sand that is merely damp provides a firm surface. When I could not answer，he offered a simple explanation.
It depends，he pointed out，on surface tension，the elastic-skin effect of a liquid surface. This is what holds a drop together，or causes two small raindrops on a windowpane to pull into one big drop the moment their surfaces touch.
When sand is damp，Einstein explained，there are tiny amounts of water between grains. The surface tensions of these tiny amounts of water pull all the grains together，and friction then makes them hard to budge. When the sand is dry，there is obviously no water between grains. If the sand is fully immersed，there is water between grains，but no water surface to pull them together.
This is not as important as relativity;yet there is no telling what seeming trifle will lead an Einstein to a major discovery. And the puzzle the sand does give us an inkling of the power and elegance of his mind.
Einstein‘s work，performed quietly with pencil and paper，seemed remote from the turmoil of everyday life：But his ideas were so revolutionary they caused violent controversy and irrational anger. Indeed，in order to be able to award him a belated Nobel Prize，the selection committee had to avoid mentioning relativity，and pretend the prize was awarded primarily for his work on the quantum theory.
Political events upset the serenity of his life even more. When the Nazis came to power in Germany，his theories were officially declared false because they had been formulated by a Jew. His property was confiscated，and it is said a price was put on his head.
When scientists in the United States，fearful that the Nazis might develop an atomic bomb，sought to alert American authorities to the danger，they were scarcely heeded. In desperation，they drafted a letter which Einstein signed and sent directly to President Roosevelt. It was this act that led to the fateful decision to go all-out on the production of an atomic bomb—an endeavor in which Einstein took no active part. When he heard of the agony and destruction that his E=mc had wrought，he was dismayed beyond measure，and from then on there was a look of ineffable sadness in his eyes.
There was something elusively whimsical about Einstein. It is illustrated by my favorite anecdote about him. In his first year in Princeton，on Christmas Eve，so the story goes，some children sang carols outside his house. Having finished，they knocked on his door and explained they were collecting money to buy Christmas presents，Einstein listened，then said，“Wait a moment.”He put on his scarf and overcoat，and took his violin from its case Then，joining the children as they went from door to door，he accompanied their singing of“Silent Night”on his violin.
How shall I sum up what it meant to have known Einstein and his works?Like the Nobel Prize winner who pointed helplessly at his watch，I can find no adequate words. It was akin to the revelation of great art that lets one see what was formerly hidden. And when，for example，I walk on the sand of a lonely beach，I am reminded of his ceaseless search for cosmic simplicity—and the scene takes on a deeper，sadder beauty.
Banesh Hoffmann
關(guān)于長篇優(yōu)美英語文章欣賞篇三
My Father, My Son, My Self(父親、兒子和我)
y father still looks remarkably like I remember him when I was growing up：hair full，body trim，face tanned，eyes sharp. What‘s different is his gentleness and patience. I had remembered neither as a boy，and I wondered which of us had changed.
My son Matthew and I had flown to Arizona for a visit，and his 67-year-old grandfather was tuning up his guitar to play for the boy.“You know‘Oh，Give Me a Home Where the Buffalo Roam’?”my father asked.
All the while，four-year-old Matthew was bouncing on the couch，furtively strumming the guitar he wasn‘t supposed to touch and talking incessantly.
My father and I were once at great odds. We went through all the classic resentful and rebellious teen stuff：shouting matches，my weird friends，clothes and beliefs. I still vividly recall the revelation that finally came to me one day that I was not my father，and that I could stop trying to prove I wasn‘t.
When I was a boy，my father wasn‘t around much. He worked seven days a week as a milkman. But even at work he was the task-master in absentia. Infractions were added up，and at night he dispensed punishment，though rarely beyond a threatening voice or a scolding finger.
I believed that manhood required that I stand up to him，even if it meant fists. One day some friends and I buried our high school‘s parking-lot barriers under the woodpile for the annual home-coming bonfire.
We hated the things because they kept us from leaving school in our cars until after the buses had left. I thought the prank was pretty funny，and I mentioned it to my father. He didn‘t think it was funny，and he ordered me to go with him to dig the barriers out.
Can you imagine anything more humiliating at age 16?I refused，and we stood toe to toe. Dad was in a rage，and I thought for an instant that the test had come.
But then he shook his head and calmly walked away. The next day my friends told me that they had seen him at the bonfire celebration. He‘d climbed into the woodpile in front of hundreds of kids，pulled out the barriers and left. He never mentioned it to me. He still hasn’t.
Despite our father-son struggles，I never doubted my father‘s love，which was our lifeline through some pretty rough times. There are plenty of warm memories– he and I on the couch watching TV together，walking a gravel road in Crete，Ill.，as dusk，riding home in a car，singing“Red River Valley.”
He had this way of smiling at me，this way of tossing a backhanded compliment，letting me know he was prod of me and my achievements. He was a rugged teaser，and it was during his teasing that I always sensed his great，unspoken love. When I was older，I would understand that this is how many men show affection without acknowledging vulnerability. And I imitated his way of saying“I love you”by telling him his nose was too big or his ties too ugly.
But I can‘t recall a time my father hugged or hissed me or said he loved me. I remember snuggling next to him on Sunday mornings. I remember the strong，warm feeling of dozing off in his arms. But men，even little men，did not kiss or hug;they shook hands.
There were times much later when I would be going back to college，times when I wanted so badly to hug him. But the muscles wouldn‘t move with the emotion. I hugged my mother. I shook hands with my father.
“It‘s not what a man says，but what he does that counts，”he would say. Words and emotions were suspect. He went to work every day，he protected me，he taught me right from wrong，he made me tough in mind and spirit. It was our bond. It was our barrier.
I‘ve tried not to repeat what I saw as my father’s mistake. Matthew and I cuddle and kiss good-bye. This is the new masculinity，and it‘s as common today as the old masculinity of my father’s day. But，honestly，I don‘t believe that in the end the new masculinity will prevent the growing-up conflicts between fathers and sons. All I hope is that Matthew and I build some repository of unconscious joy so that it will remain a lifeline between us through the rough times ahead.
It was only after having a boy of my own that I began to think a lot about the relationship between fathers and sons and to see– and to understand– my own father with remarkable clarity.
If there is a universal complaint from men about their fathers，it is that their dads lacked patience. I remember one rainy day when I was about six and my father was putting a new roof on his mother‘s house，a dangerous job when it’s dry，much less wet. I wanted to help. He was impatient and said no. I made a scene and got the only spanking I can recall. He had chuckled at that memory many times over the years，but I never saw the humor.
Only now that I‘ve struggled to find patience in myself when Matthew insists he help me paint the house or saw down dead trees in the back yard am I able to see that day through my father’s eyes. Who‘d have guessed I’d be angry with my father for 30 years，until I relived similar experiences with my own son，who，I suppose，is angry now with me.
More surprisingly，contrary to my teen-age conviction that I wasn‘t at all like my father，I have come to the greater realization. I am very much like him. We share the same sense of humor，same stubbornness，same voice even. Although I didn’t always see these similarities as desirable，I have grown into them，come to like them.
My father，for instance，has this way of answering the phone.“Hellll– o，”he says，putting a heavy accent on the first syllable and snapping the“o”short. Call me today and you‘ll hear“Hellll– o，”just like the old an. Every time I hear myself say it，I feel good.
This new empathy for my father has led me to a startling insight：if I am still resolving my feelings about my father，then when I was a boy my father was still resolving his feelings about his father.
He raised me as a result of and as a reaction to his own dad，which links my son not only to me and my father，but to my father‘s father and，I suspect，any number of Harrington fathers before. I imagine that if the phone had rung as the first Harrington stepped of the boat，he’d have answered by saying，“Hellll–o”。
For reasons to profound and too petty to tell，there was a time years ago when my father and I didn‘t speak or see each other. I finally gave up my stubbornness and visited unexpectedly. For two days we talked，of everything and nothing. Neither mentioned that we hadn’t seen each other in five years.
I left as depressed as I‘ve ever been，knowing that reconciliation was impossible. Two days later I got the only letter my father ever sent me. I’m the writer，he‘s the milkman. But the letter’s tone and cadence，its emotion and simplicity might have been my own.
“I know that if I had it to do over again，”he wrote，“I would somehow find more time to spend with you. It seems we never realize this until it‘s too late.”
It turned out that as he had watched me walk out the door after our visit– at the instant I was thinking we were hopelessly lost to each other– he was telling himself to stop me，to sit down and talk，that if we didn‘t he might never see me again.“But I just let you go，”he wrote.
I realized that his muscles just hadn‘t been able to move with the emotion，which is all I ever really needed to know.
Not long ago，Matthew asked me，“sons can grow up to be their daddies，right?”This was no small struggling for insight，and I was careful in my response.“No，”I said，“sons can grow up to be like their daddies in some ways，but they can‘t be their daddies. They must be themselves.”Matthew would hear nothing of these subtleties.
“Sons can grow up to be their daddies!”he said defiantly.“They can.”I didn‘t argue. It made me feel good.
All morning I am anxious. Matthew and I are about to leave Arizona for home，and I am determined to do something I have never done.
There is a time in every son‘s life when he resents the echoes reminding him that，for all his vaunted individuality，he is his father’s son. But thee should also come a time– as it had for me– when these echoes call out only the understanding that the generations have melded and blurred without threat.
So just before my son and I walk through the gate and onto our plane，I lean over，hug my father and say，“I want you to know that I love you. That I always have.”
Walt Harrington
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