新视野大学英语第4册课文翻译

新视野大学英语(第四册)课后答案与课文翻译

5． made excellent observations on
6． counted on
7． for my part
8． make a fuss
《读写教程 IV》: Ex. V, p. 9
1． sanctions
2． Restrictions
3． fine
4． limits
《读写教程 IV》: Ex. XI, p. 12
1. 在一起呆了几天，她仍感到对这个客人很陌生，只得大部分时间让丈夫陪着他。
2. 加斯顿拉了拉妻子的衣袖，双手搂着她的腰，快乐地望着她那充满困惑的眼睛。
3. 他在她身旁的长凳上坐下，丝毫不曾想到她可能会反对他坐在那儿。
4. 他的话变成了一串毫无意义的动词、名词、副词和形容词，她陶醉在他的声音里。
5. 那晚，巴罗达太太很想把自己的一时荒唐告诉丈夫—也是她的朋友，但还是忍住了。
6. 他照例说了些诸如这个季节的夜风对身体不好之类的话。后来，望着茫茫夜色，他开始谈了起来。
7. “噢，”她笑着，在他唇上印了长长的温柔的一吻，“我一切都已经克服了！你会看到的，这次我会对他很好。”
8. 而现在他只求能生存，只是偶尔才能体验到一丝真正的生活的气息，就像此刻这样。
5. She had never known her thoughts to be so confused, unable to gather anything from them.
6. From Gouvernail’s talk, Mrs. Baroda came to know that his periods of silence were not his basic nature, but the result of moods.

新视野大学英语第三版读写教程第四册课文原文及翻译

Love and logic: The story of fallacyI had my first date with Polly after I made the trade with my roommate Rob. That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn't stand the idea of being the only football player who didn't, so he made a pact that he'd give me his girl in exchange for my jacket. He wasn't the brightest guy. Polly wasn't too shrewd, either. But she was pretty, well-off, didn't dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup. She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer. If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant,well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition. "Radiant" she was already. I could dispense her enough pearls of wisdom to make her "well-spoken".After a banner day out, I drove until we were situated under a big old oak tree on ahill off the expressway. What I had in mind was a little eccentric. I thought the venue with a perfect view of the luminous city would lighten the mood. We stayed in the car, and I turned down the stereo and took my foot off the brake pedal. "What are we going to talk about?" she asked.爱情与逻辑：谬误的故事在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后，我和波莉有了第一次约会。

新视野大学英语第四册课文原文加翻译

1A An artist who seeks fame is like a dog chasing his own tail who, when he captures it, does not know what else to do but to continue chasing it.The cruelty of success is that it often leads those who seek such success to participate in their own destruction."Don't quit your day job!" is advice frequently given by understandably pessimistic family members and friends to a budding artist who is trying hard to succeed.The conquest of fame is difficult at best, and many end up emotionally if not financially bankrupt.Still, impure motives such as the desire for worshipping fans and praise from peers may spur the artist on.The lure of drowning in fame's imperial glory is not easily resisted.Those who gain fame most often gain it as a result of exploiting their talent for singing, dancing, painting, or writing, etc.They develop a style that agents market aggressively to hasten popularity, and their ride on the express elevator to the top is a blur.Most would be hard-pressed to tell you how they even got there.Artists cannot remain idle, though.When the performer, painter or writer becomes bored, their work begins to show a lack of continuity in its appeal and it becomes difficult to sustain the attention of the public.After their enthusiasm has dissolved, the public simply moves on to the next flavor of the month.Artists who do attempt to remain current by making even minute changes to their style of writing, dancing or singing, run a significant risk of losing the audience's favor.The public simply discounts styles other than those for which the artist has become famous.Famous authors' styles—a Tennessee Williams play or a plot by Ernest Hemingway or a poem by Robert Frost or T.S. Eliot—are easily recognizable.The same is true of painters like Monet, Renoir, or Dali and moviemakers like Hitchcock, Fellini, Spielberg, Chen Kaige or Zhang Yimou. Their distinct styles marked a significant change in form from others and gained them fame and fortune.However, they paid for it by giving up the freedom to express themselves with other styles or forms.Fame's spotlight can be hotter than a tropical jungle—a fraud is quickly exposed, and the pressure of so much attention is too much for most to endure.It takes you out of yourself: You must be what the public thinks you are, not what you really are or could be.The performer, like the politician, must often please his or her audiences by saying things he or she does not mean or fully believe.One drop of fame will likely contaminate the entire well of a man's soul, and so an artist who remains true to himself or herself is particularly amazing.You would be hard-pressed to underline many names of those who have not compromised and still succeeded in the fame game.An example, the famous Irish writer Oscar Wilde, known for his uncompromising behavior, both social and sexual, to which the public objected, paid heavily for remaining true to himself.The mother of a young man Oscar was intimate with accused him at a banquet in front of his friends and fans of sexually influencing her son. Extremely angered by her remarks, he sued the young man's mother, asserting that she had damaged his "good" name.He should have hired a better attorney, though.The judge did not second Wilde's call to have the woman pay for damaging his name, and instead fined Wilde.He ended up in jail after refusing to pay, and even worse, was permanently expelled from the wider circle of public favor.When things were at their worst, he found that no one was willing to risk his or her name in his defense.His price for remaining true to himself was to be left alone when he needed his fans the most.Curiously enough, it is those who fail that reap the greatest reward: freedom!They enjoy the freedom to express themselves in unique and original ways without fear of losing the support of fans.Failed artists may find comfort in knowing that many great artists never found fame until well after they had passed away or in knowing thatthey did not sell out.They may justify their failure by convincing themselves their genius is too sophisticated for contemporary audiences.Single-minded artists who continue their quest for fame even after failure might also like to know that failure has motivated some famous people to work even harder to succeed.Thomas Wolfe, the American novelist, had his first novel Look Homeward, Angel rejected 39 times before it was finally published. Beethoven overcame his father, who did not believe that he had any potential as a musician, to become the greatest musician in the world. And Pestalozzi, the famous Swiss educator in the 19th century, failed at every job he ever had until he came upon the idea of teaching children and developing the fundamental theories to produce a new form of education.Thomas Edison was thrown out of school in the fourth grade, because he seemed to his teacher to be quite dull.Unfortunately for most people, however, failure is the end of their struggle, not the beginning.I say to those who desperately seek fame and fortune: good luck.But alas, you may find that it was not what you wanted.The dog who catches his tail discovers that it is only a tail.The person who achieves success often discovers that it does more harm than good.So instead of trying so hard to achieve success, try to be happy with who you are and what you do.Try to do work that you can be proud of.Maybe you won't be famous in your own lifetime, but you may create better art.1B One summer day my father sent me to buy some wire and fencing to put around our barn to pen up the bull.At 16, I liked nothing better than getting behind the wheel of our truck and driving into town on the old mill road.Water from the mill's wheel sprayed in the sunshine making a rainbow over the canal and I often stopped there on my way to bathe and cool off for a spell—natural air conditioning.The sun was so hot, I did not need a towel as I was dry by the time I climbed the clay banks and crossed the road ditch to the truck.Just before town, the road shot along the sea where I would collect seashells or gather seaweed beneath the giant crane unloading the ships. This trip was different, though.My father had told me I'd have to ask for credit at the store.It was 1976, and the ugly shadow of racism was still a fact of life.I'd seen my friends ask for credit and then stand, head down, while a storeowner enquired into whether they were "good for it".Many store clerks watched black youths with the assumption that they were thieves every time they even went into a grocery.My family was honest.We paid our debts.But just before harvest, all the money flowed out.There were no new deposits at the bank.Cash was short.At Davis Brothers' General Store, Buck Davis stood behind the register, talking to a middle-aged farmer.Buck was a tall, weathered man in a red hunting shirt and I nodded as I passed him on my way to the hardware section to get a container of nails, a coil of binding wire and fencing.I pulled my purchases up to the counter and placed the nails in the tray of the scale, saying carefully, "I need to put this on credit."My brow was moist with nervous sweat and I wiped it away with the back of my arm.The farmer gave me an amused, cynical look, but Buck's face didn't change."Sure," he said easily, reaching for his booklet where he kept records for credit.I gave a sigh of relief."Your daddy is always good for it."He turned to the farmer."This here is one of James Williams' sons.They broke the mold when they made that man."The farmer nodded in a neighborly way.I was filled with pride."James Williams' son."Those three words had opened a door to an adult's respect and trust.As I heaved the heavy freight into the bed of the truck, I did so with ease, feeling like a stronger man than the one that left the farm that morning.I had discovered that a good name could furnish a capital of good will of great value.Everyone knew what to expect from a Williams: a decent person who kept his word and respected himself too much to do wrong.My great grandfather may have been sold as a slave at auction, but this was not an excuse to do wrong to others.Instead my father believed the only way to honor him was through hard work and respect for all men.We children—eight brothers and two sisters—could enjoy our good name, unearned, unless and until we did something to lose it.We had an interest in how one another behaved and our own actions as well, lest we destroy the name my father had created.Our good name was and still is the glue that holds our family tight together.The desire to honor my father's good name spurred me to become the first in our family to go to university.I worked my way through college as a porter at a four-star hotel. Eventually, that good name provided the initiative to start my own successful public relations firm in Washington, D.C.America needs to restore a sense of shame in its neighborhoods.Doing drugs, spending all your money at the liquor store, stealing, or getting a young woman pregnant with no intent to marry her should induce a deep sense of embarrassment.But it doesn't.Nearly one out of three births in America is to a single mother. Many of these children will grow up without the security and guidance they need to become honorable members of society.Once the social ties and mutual obligations of the family melt away, communities fall apart.While the population has increased only 40 percent since 1960, violent crime in America has increased a staggering 550 percent—and we've become exceedingly used to it. Teen drug use has also risen.In one North Carolina County, police arrested 73 students from 12 secondary schools for dealing drugs, some of them right in the classroom.Meanwhile, the small signs of civility and respect that hold up civilization are vanishing from schools, stores and streets.Phrases like "yes, ma'am", "no, sir", "thank you" and "please" get a yawn from kids today who are encouraged instead by cursing on television and in music.They simply shrug off the rewards of a good name.The good name passed on by my father and maintained to this day by my brothers and sisters and me is worth as much now as ever.Even today, when I stop into Buck Davis' shop or my hometown <49>barbershop</49> for a haircut, I am still greeted as James Williams' son.My family's good name did <50>pave</50> the way for me.2A He was born in a poor area of South London.He wore his mother's old red stockings cut down for ankle socks.His mother was temporarily declared mad.Dickens might have created Charlie Chaplin's childhood.But only Charlie Chaplin could have created the great comic character of "the Tramp", the little man in rags who gave his creator permanent fame.Other countries—France, Italy, Spain, even Japan—have provided more applause (and profit) where Chaplin is concerned than the land of his birth.Chaplin quit Britain for good in 1913 when he journeyed to America with a group of performers to do his comedy act on the stage, where talent scouts recruited him to work for Mack Sennett, the king of Hollywood comedy films.Sad to say, many English people in the 1920s and 1930s thought Chaplin's Tramp a bit, well, "crude".Certainly middle-class audiences did; the working-class audiences were more likely to clap for a character who revolted against authority, using his wicked little cane to trip it up, or aiming the heel of his boot for a well-placed kick at its broad rear.All the same, Chaplin's comic beggar didn't seem all that English or even working-class.English tramps didn't sport tiny moustaches, huge pants or tail coats: European leaders and Italian waiters wore things like that.Then again, the Tramp's quick eye for a pretty girl had a coarse way about it that was considered, well, not quite nice by English audiences—that's how foreigners behaved, wasn't it?But for over half of his screen career, Chaplin had no screen voice to confirm his British nationality.Indeed, it was a headache for Chaplin when he could no longer resist the talking movies and had to find "the right voice" for his Tramp.He postponed that day as long as possible: In Modern Times in 1936, the first film in which he was heard as a singing waiter, he made up a nonsense language which sounded like no known nationality.He later said he imagined the Tramp to be a college-educated gentleman who'd come down in the world.But if he'd been able to speak with an educated accent in those early short comedies, it's doubtful if he would have achieved world fame. And the English would have been sure to find it "odd". No one was certain whether Chaplin did it on purpose but this helped to bring about his huge success.He was an immensely talented man, determined to a degree unusual even in the ranks of Hollywood stars.His huge fame gave him the freedom—and, more importantly, the money—to be his own master.He already had the urge to explore and extend a talent he discovered in himself as he went along."It can't be me. Is that possible? How extraordinary," is how he greeted the first sight of himself as the Tramp on the screen.But that shock roused his imagination.Chaplin didn't have his jokes written into a script in advance; he was the kind of comic who used his physical senses to invent his art as he went along.Lifeless objects especially helped Chaplin make "contact" with himself as an artist.He turned them into other kinds of objects.Thus, a broken alarm clock in the movie The Pawnbroker became a "sick" patient undergoing surgery; boots were boiled in his film The Gold Rush and their soles eaten with salt and pepper like prime cuts of fish (the nails being removed like fish bones).This physical transformation, plus the skill with which he executed it again and again, is surely the secret of Chaplin's great comedy.He also had a deep need to be loved—and a corresponding fear of being betrayed.The two were hard to combine and sometimes—as in his early marriages—the collision between them resulted in disaster.Yet even this painfully-bought self-knowledge found its way into his comic creations.The Tramp never loses his faith in the flower girl who'll be waiting to walk into the sunset with him; while the other side of Chaplin makes Monsieur Verdoux, the French wife killer, into a symbol of hatred for women.It's a relief to know that life eventually gave Charlie Chaplin the stability and happiness it had earlier denied him.In Oona O'Neill Chaplin, he found a partner whose stability and affection spanned the 37 years age difference between them, which hadseemed so threatening, that when the official who was marrying them in 1942 turned to the beautiful girl of 17 who'd given notice of their wedding date, he said, "And where is the young man? "—Chaplin, then 54, had cautiously waited outside.As Oona herself was the child of a large family with its own problems, she was well prepared for the battle that Chaplin's life became as many unfounded rumors surrounded them both—and, later on, she was the center of calm in the quarrels that Chaplin sometimes sparked in his own large family of talented children.Chaplin died on Christmas Day 1977.A few months later, a couple of almost comic body thieves stole his body from the family burial chamber and held it for money.The police recovered it with more efficiency than Mack Sennett's clumsy Keystone Cops would have done, but one can't help feeling Chaplin would have regarded this strange incident as a fitting memorial—his way of having the last laugh on a world to which he had given so many. 2B Modest and soft-spoken, Agatha Muthoni Mbogo, 24, is hardly the image of a revolutionary.Yet, six months ago, she did a most revolutionary thing: She ran for mayor of Embu, Kenya, and won.Ms. Mbogo's victory was even more surprising because she was voted in by her colleagues on the District Council, all men.For the thousands of women in this farming area two hours northeast of Nairobi, Ms. Mbogo suddenly became a symbol of the increasingly powerful political force women have become in Kenya and across Africa.Ms. Mbogo launched her dream of a career in politics in 1992 by running for the Embu Council, facing the obstacles that often trouble African women running for political office.She had little money.She had no political experience.She faced ridiculous questions about her personal life."My opponent kept insisting that I was going to get married to somebody in another town and move away," Ms. Mbogo said.Ms. Mbogo also faced misunderstanding among the town's women, many of whom initially were unwilling to vote for her.She became an ambassador for women's political rights, giving speeches before women's groups and going from door to door, handbag in hand, spending hours at a time giving a combination of speech and government lesson."I was delighted when she won the election, because men elected her," said Lydiah Kimani, an Embu farmer and political activist."It was the answer to my prayers because it seemed to be a victory over this idea that 'women can't lead'."Education of African women has become a top priority for political activists.One organization has held dozens of workshops in rural Kenya to help women understand the nation's constitution and the procedures and theory behind a democratic political system.One veteran female political activist said that many women had not been taught the basics of political participation.They are taught to vote for the one who "gives you a half kilo sack of flour, 200 grams of salt, or a loaf of bread" during the campaign, said the activist.Women politicians and activists say they are fighting deeply-held cultural traditions.Those traditions teach that African women cook, clean, take care of children, sow and harvest crops and support their husbands.They typically do not inherit land, divorce their husband, control their finances or hold political office.Yet, political activity among Kenyan women is not a new phenomenon.During the struggle for independence in the 1950s, Kenyan women often secretly provided troops with weapons and spied on the positions of colonial forces.But after independence, leaders jealous to protect their power shut them out of politics, a situation repeated across the continent.Today, men still have the upper hand.Women in Kenya make up 60 percent of the people who vote, but only 3 percent of the National Assembly.No Kenyan woman has ever held a cabinet post.Against that background, Agatha Mbogo began her political career.After winning her council seat, she declined a spot on the education and social services committee after a colleague called it "a woman's committee".She instead joined the town planning committee, a much more visible assignment.Then last year, she decided to challenge Embu's mayor, a veteran politician.Ms. Mbogo said she had become frustrated because the donor groups that provide substantial aid to Kenya's rural areas "did not want to come here"."We weren't seeing things done for the community," she said."It was a scandal—the donors' money seemed to be going to individuals."After a fierce campaign, the council elected her, 7 to 6.She said women in Embu celebrated.Men were puzzled; some were hostile.They asked, "How could all of those men vote for a woman? " she recalled.Ms. Mbogo has not met with the kinds of abuse that other female politicians have been subjected to, however.Some have said their supporters are sometimes attacked with clubs after rallies.Last June, Kenyan police attempted to break up a women's political meeting northwest of Nairobi, insisting it was illegal and might start a riot.When the 100 women, including a member of the National Assembly, refused to go, officers tore down their banners and beat them with clubs and fists, witnesses reported.In contrast, Ms. Mbogo generally receives warm greetings from the men of Embu, and many say they are now glad the council chose her.Donor groups are now funding projects in Embu in earnest.A new market is going up downtown.A 200-bed section for new mothers is being added to the hospital.A dormitory-style home has been built for the dozens of homeless street children who once wandered the city.Ms. Mbogo is especially proud of the market and the hospital because "they have an impact on women".At the current market, where hundreds of people, shaded by umbrellas, lay out fruits and vegetables, one person who sells lemons said she liked the new mayor."I feel like if I have a problem, I can go to her office," she said."The other mayor shouted. He acted like an emperor. He did not want to hear my problems."Nearby, a man said he found Ms. Mbogo a refreshing change."I'm tired of men," he said, watching over his pile of onions."They give us so many promises, but they don't deliver the goods. As long as she keeps giving us what we want, she is all right."3A A welfare client is supposed to cheat. Everybody expects it.Faced with sharing a dinner of raw pet food with the cat, many people in wheelchairs I know bleed the system for a few extra dollars.They tell the government that they are getting two hundred dollars less than their real pension so they can get a little extra welfare money. Or, they tell the caseworker that the landlord raised the rent by a hundred dollars.I have opted to live a life of complete honesty.So instead, I go out and drum up some business and draw cartoons.I even tell welfare how much I make!Oh, I'm tempted to get paid under the table.But even if I yielded to that temptation, big magazines are not going to get involved in some sticky situation.They keep my records, and that information goes right into the government's computer.Very high-profile.As a welfare client I'm expected to bow before the caseworker.Deep down, caseworkers know that they are being made fools of by many of their clients, and they feel they are entitled to have clients bow to them as compensation. I'm not being bitter.Most caseworkers begin as college-educated liberals with high ideals.But after a few years in a system that practically requires people to lie, they become like the one I shall call "Suzanne", a detective in shorts.Not long after Christmas last year, Suzanne came to inspect my apartment and saw some new posters pasted on the wall."Where'd you get the money for those? " she wanted to know."Friends and family.""Well, you'd better have a receipt for it, by God. You have to report any donations or gifts."This was my cue to beg.Instead, I talked back."I got a cigarette from somebody on the street the other day. Do I have to report that? ""Well, I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules, Mr. Callahan."Suzanne tries to lecture me about repairs to my wheelchair, which is always breaking down because welfare won't spend money maintaining it properly."You know, Mr. Callahan, I've heard that you put a lot more miles on that wheelchair than average."Of course I do.I'm an active worker, not a vegetable.I live near downtown, so I can get around in a wheelchair.I wonder what she'd think if she suddenly broke her hip and had to crawl to work.Government cuts in welfare have resulted in hunger and suffering for a lot of people, not just me.But people with spinal cord injuries felt the cuts in a unique way: The government stopped taking care of our chairs.Each time mine broke down, lost a screw, needed a new roller bearing, the brake wouldn't work, etc., and I called Suzanne, I had to endure a little lecture.Finally, she'd say, "Well, if I can find time today, I'll call the medical worker."She was supposed to notify the medical worker, who would certify that there was a problem.Then the medical worker called the wheelchair repair companies to get the cheapest bid.Then the medical worker alerted the main welfare office at the state capital.They considered the matter for days while I lay in bed, unable to move.Finally, if I was lucky, they called back and approved the repair.When welfare learned I was making money on my cartoons, Suzanne started "visiting" every fortnight instead of every two months.She looked into every corner in search of unreported appliances, or maids, or a roast pig in the oven, or a new helicopter parked out back. She never found anything, but there was always a thick pile of forms to fill out at the end of each visit, accounting for every penny.There is no provision in the law for a gradual shift away from welfare.I am an independent businessman, slowly building up my market.It's impossible to jump off welfare and suddenly be making two thousand dollars a month. But I would love to be able to pay for some of my living and not have to go through an embarrassing situation every time I need a spare part for my wheelchair.There needs to be a lawyer who can act as a champion for the rights of welfare clients, because the system so easily lends itself to abuse by the welfare givers as well as by the clients.Welfare sent Suzanne to look around in my apartment the other day because the chemist said I was using a larger than usual amount of medical supplies.I was, indeed: The hole that has been surgically cut to drain urine had changed size and the connection to my urine bag was leaking.While she was taking notes, my phone rang and Suzanne answered it.The caller was a state senator, which scared Suzanne a little.Would I sit on the governor's committee and try to do something about the thousands of welfare clients who, like me, could earn part or all of their own livings if they were allowed to do so, one step at a time?Hell, yes, I would!Someday people like me will thrive under a new system that will encourage them, not seek to convict them of cheating.They will be free to develop their talents without guilt or fear—or just hold a good, steady job.3B It was late afternoon when the chairman of our Bangkok-based company gave me an assignment: I would leave the next day to accompany an important Chinese businessman to tourist sites in northern Thailand.Silently angry, I stared at my desk.The stacks of paper bore witness to a huge amount of work waiting to be done, even though I had been working seven days a week.How will I ever catch up? I wondered.After a one-hour flight the next morning, we spent the day visiting attractions along with hundreds of other tourists, most of them loaded with cameras and small gifts.I remember feeling annoyed at this dense collection of humanity.That evening my Chinese companion and I climbed into a chartered van to go to dinner and a show, one which I had attended many times before.While he chatted with other tourists, I exchanged polite conversation in the dark with a man seated in front of me, a Belgian who spoke fluent English.I wondered why he held his head motionless at an odd angle, as though he were in prayer.Then the truth struck me.He was blind.Behind me someone switched on a light, and I could see his thick silvery hair and strong, square jaw.His eyes seemed to contain a white mist."Could I please sit beside you at the dinner?" he asked."And I'd love it if you'd describe a little of what you see.""I'd be happy to," I replied.。

新视野大学英语第四册第三版课文及翻译

Unit 8A turning point of my life我人生的转折点I wasn't yet 30 years old and was working as a firefighter in New York City, in a firehouse completely swampedwith calls. In the rare moments when we weren't busy, I would make calls on our cordless phone handset or rush to our office to read Captain Gray's subscription of the Sunday New York Times. Late one afternoon when I finallyread the Book Review section, my blood began to boil. An article stated a thesis I took to be an offensive insult: William Butler Yeats, the Nobel Prize-winning light of the Irish Literary Renaissance, had risen above his Irishness and was now a universal poet. I grew indignant suddenly, and a deep-seated passion within me was activated.我那时还不到30 岁，是纽约市的一名消防员，我工作的消防站总是不断有求助电话进来。

偶尔在我们不忙的时候，我会打打无绳电话，或是到办公室，看看格雷队长订的《纽约时报》周日版。

一天下午晚些时候，当我最后读到书评栏时，我开始血液沸腾。

新视野大学英语第四册课文翻译

UNIT1名望之尾1艺术家追求成名，如同狗自逐其尾，一旦追到手，除了继续追逐，不知道还能做些什么。

乐成之暴虐正在于它往往让那些追逐乐成者自寻废弃。

2对待一名正努力追求并刚刚崭露头角的艺术家，其亲朋往往会建议“严格的饭碗不能丢！”他们的忧愁不无道理。

追求高人一等，最达观的说也疾苦重重，许多人到末了不是穷困坎坷，也是几近元气破产。

尽管如此，希望博得追星族追捧和同行赞许之类的不太简单的简单的念头却在激发着他们前进。

享用乐成的无上名誉，这种迷惑不是能随便抵拒的。

3成名者之所以成名，大多是由于发挥了自己在唱歌、舞蹈、绘画或写作方面的擅长，并能造成自己的气魄。

为了能迅速走红，经纪人会戮力吹捧他们的这种气魄。

他们扶摇直上的经过让人看不清楚。

他们究竟是怎样乐成的，大多半人也都说不下去。

尽管如此，艺术家依然不能闲上去。

若献技者，画家或作家感到厌恶，他们的作品就难以继续维系以前的吸收力，也就难以维系民众的注意力。

民众的感情消磨以来，就回去追捧下一个走红的人。

有些艺术家为了不落伍，会对他们的写作、跳舞或唱歌的气魄稍加蜕变，但这将冒极大的得宠的危险。

民众对待他们借以成名的艺术气魄以外的任何形式都将嗤之以鼻。

4知名作家的文风一眼就能看进去，如田纳西.威廉斯的笑剧、欧内斯特.海明威的情节安排、罗伯特弗罗斯特或T.S艾略特的诗歌等。

异样，像莫奈。

雷诺阿、达利这样的画家、希区柯克、费里尼、斯皮尔伯格、陈凯歌或张艺谋这样的电影制作人也是如此。

他们明显特殊的艺术气魄标志着与他人不同的艺术形式上的重大改良，这让他们名利双收，但也让他们付出了代价，那就是?失了用其他气魄或形式呈现自我的自在。

5名望这盏聚光灯可比寒带丛林还要炙热。

骗局很快会被透露，过多的关怀带来的压力会让大多半人难以蒙受。

它让你?失自我。

你必需是民众认可的那个你，而不是真实的你，或是可能的你。

艺人，就像政客一样，必需往往说些愿意或连自己都不完全自负的话来取悦听众。

6一滴名望之水有可能玷污人得心灵这一整口井于是乎，一个艺术家若能维系真我，会格外让人赞叹你可能答不下去哪些人没有调和，却仍在这场名利的游戏中获胜。

新视野大学英语第四册课文原文加翻译

1A An artist who seeks fame is like a dog chasing his own tail who, when he captures it, does not know what else to do but to continue chasing it.The cruelty of success is that it often leads those who seek such success to participate in their own destruction."Don't quit your day job!" is advice frequently given by understandably pessimistic family members and friends to a budding artist who is trying hard to succeed.The conquest of fame is difficult at best, and many end up emotionally if not financially bankrupt.Still, impure motives such as the desire for worshipping fans and praise from peers may spur the artist on.The lure of drowning in fame's imperial glory is not easily resisted.Those who gain fame most often gain it as a result of exploiting their talent for singing, dancing, painting, or writing, etc.They develop a style that agents market aggressively to hasten popularity, and their ride on the express elevator to the top is a blur.Most would be hard-pressed to tell you how they even got there.Artists cannot remain idle, though.When the performer, painter or writer becomes bored, their work begins to show a lack of continuity in its appeal and it becomes difficult to sustain the attention of the public.After their enthusiasm has dissolved, the public simply moves on to the next flavor of the month.Artists who do attempt to remain current by making even minute changes to their style of writing, dancing or singing, run a significant risk of losing the audience's favor.The public simply discounts styles other than those for which the artist has become famous.Famous authors' styles—a Tennessee Williams play or a plot by Ernest Hemingway or a poem by Robert Frost or T.S. Eliot—are easily recognizable.The same is true of painters like Monet, Renoir, or Dali and moviemakers like Hitchcock, Fellini, Spielberg, Chen Kaige or Zhang Yimou. Their distinct styles marked a significant change in form from others and gained them fame and fortune.However, they paid for it by giving up the freedom to express themselves with other styles or forms.Fame's spotlight can be hotter than a tropical jungle—a fraud is quickly exposed, and the pressure of so much attention is too much for most to endure.It takes you out of yourself: You must be what the public thinks you are, not what you really are or could be.The performer, like the politician, must often please his or her audiences by saying things he or she does not mean or fully believe.One drop of fame will likely contaminate the entire well of a man's soul, and so an artist who remains true to himself or herself is particularly amazing.You would be hard-pressed to underline many names of those who have not compromised and still succeeded in the fame game.An example, the famous Irish writer Oscar Wilde, known for his uncompromising behavior, both social and sexual, to which the public objected, paid heavily for remaining true to himself.The mother of a young man Oscar was intimate with accused him at a banquet in front of his friends and fans of sexually influencing her son. Extremely angered by her remarks, he sued the young man's mother, asserting that she had damaged his "good" name.He should have hired a better attorney, though.The judge did not second Wilde's call to have the woman pay for damaging his name, and instead fined Wilde.He ended up in jail after refusing to pay, and even worse, was permanently expelled from the wider circle of public favor.When things were at their worst, he found that no one was willing to risk his or her name in his defense.His price for remaining true to himself was to be left alone when he needed his fans the most.Curiously enough, it is those who fail that reap the greatest reward: freedom!They enjoy the freedom to express themselves in unique and original ways without fear of losing the support of fans.Failed artists may find comfort in knowing that many great artists never found fame until well after they had passed away or in knowing thatthey did not sell out.They may justify their failure by convincing themselves their genius is too sophisticated for contemporary audiences.Single-minded artists who continue their quest for fame even after failure might also like to know that failure has motivated some famous people to work even harder to succeed.Thomas Wolfe, the American novelist, had his first novel Look Homeward, Angel rejected 39 times before it was finally published. Beethoven overcame his father, who did not believe that he had any potential as a musician, to become the greatest musician in the world. And Pestalozzi, the famous Swiss educator in the 19th century, failed at every job he ever had until he came upon the idea of teaching children and developing the fundamental theories to produce a new form of education.Thomas Edison was thrown out of school in the fourth grade, because he seemed to his teacher to be quite dull.Unfortunately for most people, however, failure is the end of their struggle, not the beginning.I say to those who desperately seek fame and fortune: good luck.But alas, you may find that it was not what you wanted.The dog who catches his tail discovers that it is only a tail.The person who achieves success often discovers that it does more harm than good.So instead of trying so hard to achieve success, try to be happy with who you are and what you do.Try to do work that you can be proud of.Maybe you won't be famous in your own lifetime, but you may create better art.1B One summer day my father sent me to buy some wire and fencing to put around our barn to pen up the bull.At 16, I liked nothing better than getting behind the wheel of our truck and driving into town on the old mill road.Water from the mill's wheel sprayed in the sunshine making a rainbow over the canal and I often stopped there on my way to bathe and cool off for a spell—natural air conditioning.The sun was so hot, I did not need a towel as I was dry by the time I climbed the clay banks and crossed the road ditch to the truck.Just before town, the road shot along the sea where I would collect seashells or gather seaweed beneath the giant crane unloading the ships. This trip was different, though.My father had told me I'd have to ask for credit at the store.It was 1976, and the ugly shadow of racism was still a fact of life.I'd seen my friends ask for credit and then stand, head down, while a storeowner enquired into whether they were "good for it".Many store clerks watched black youths with the assumption that they were thieves every time they even went into a grocery.My family was honest.We paid our debts.But just before harvest, all the money flowed out.There were no new deposits at the bank.Cash was short.At Davis Brothers' General Store, Buck Davis stood behind the register, talking to a middle-aged farmer.Buck was a tall, weathered man in a red hunting shirt and I nodded as I passed him on my way to the hardware section to get a container of nails, a coil of binding wire and fencing.I pulled my purchases up to the counter and placed the nails in the tray of the scale, saying carefully, "I need to put this on credit."My brow was moist with nervous sweat and I wiped it away with the back of my arm.The farmer gave me an amused, cynical look, but Buck's face didn't change."Sure," he said easily, reaching for his booklet where he kept records for credit.I gave a sigh of relief."Your daddy is always good for it."He turned to the farmer."This here is one of James Williams' sons.They broke the mold when they made that man."The farmer nodded in a neighborly way.I was filled with pride."James Williams' son."Those three words had opened a door to an adult's respect and trust.As I heaved the heavy freight into the bed of the truck, I did so with ease, feeling like a stronger man than the one that left the farm that morning.I had discovered that a good name could furnish a capital of good will of great value.Everyone knew what to expect from a Williams: a decent person who kept his word and respected himself too much to do wrong.My great grandfather may have been sold as a slave at auction, but this was not an excuse to do wrong to others.Instead my father believed the only way to honor him was through hard work and respect for all men.We children—eight brothers and two sisters—could enjoy our good name, unearned, unless and until we did something to lose it.We had an interest in how one another behaved and our own actions as well, lest we destroy the name my father had created.Our good name was and still is the glue that holds our family tight together.The desire to honor my father's good name spurred me to become the first in our family to go to university.I worked my way through college as a porter at a four-star hotel. Eventually, that good name provided the initiative to start my own successful public relations firm in Washington, D.C.America needs to restore a sense of shame in its neighborhoods.Doing drugs, spending all your money at the liquor store, stealing, or getting a young woman pregnant with no intent to marry her should induce a deep sense of embarrassment.But it doesn't.Nearly one out of three births in America is to a single mother. Many of these children will grow up without the security and guidance they need to become honorable members of society.Once the social ties and mutual obligations of the family melt away, communities fall apart.While the population has increased only 40 percent since 1960, violent crime in America has increased a staggering 550 percent—and we've become exceedingly used to it. Teen drug use has also risen.In one North Carolina County, police arrested 73 students from 12 secondary schools for dealing drugs, some of them right in the classroom.Meanwhile, the small signs of civility and respect that hold up civilization are vanishing from schools, stores and streets.Phrases like "yes, ma'am", "no, sir", "thank you" and "please" get a yawn from kids today who are encouraged instead by cursing on television and in music.They simply shrug off the rewards of a good name.The good name passed on by my father and maintained to this day by my brothers and sisters and me is worth as much now as ever.Even today, when I stop into Buck Davis' shop or my hometown <49>barbershop</49> for a haircut, I am still greeted as James Williams' son.My family's good name did <50>pave</50> the way for me.2A He was born in a poor area of South London.He wore his mother's old red stockings cut down for ankle socks.His mother was temporarily declared mad.Dickens might have created Charlie Chaplin's childhood.But only Charlie Chaplin could have created the great comic character of "the Tramp", the little man in rags who gave his creator permanent fame.Other countries—France, Italy, Spain, even Japan—have provided more applause (and profit) where Chaplin is concerned than the land of his birth.Chaplin quit Britain for good in 1913 when he journeyed to America with a group of performers to do his comedy act on the stage, where talent scouts recruited him to work for Mack Sennett, the king of Hollywood comedy films.Sad to say, many English people in the 1920s and 1930s thought Chaplin's Tramp a bit, well, "crude".Certainly middle-class audiences did; the working-class audiences were more likely to clap for a character who revolted against authority, using his wicked little cane to trip it up, or aiming the heel of his boot for a well-placed kick at its broad rear.All the same, Chaplin's comic beggar didn't seem all that English or even working-class.English tramps didn't sport tiny moustaches, huge pants or tail coats: European leaders and Italian waiters wore things like that.Then again, the Tramp's quick eye for a pretty girl had a coarse way about it that was considered, well, not quite nice by English audiences—that's how foreigners behaved, wasn't it?But for over half of his screen career, Chaplin had no screen voice to confirm his British nationality.Indeed, it was a headache for Chaplin when he could no longer resist the talking movies and had to find "the right voice" for his Tramp.He postponed that day as long as possible: In Modern Times in 1936, the first film in which he was heard as a singing waiter, he made up a nonsense language which sounded like no known nationality.He later said he imagined the Tramp to be a college-educated gentleman who'd come down in the world.But if he'd been able to speak with an educated accent in those early short comedies, it's doubtful if he would have achieved world fame. And the English would have been sure to find it "odd". No one was certain whether Chaplin did it on purpose but this helped to bring about his huge success.He was an immensely talented man, determined to a degree unusual even in the ranks of Hollywood stars.His huge fame gave him the freedom—and, more importantly, the money—to be his own master.He already had the urge to explore and extend a talent he discovered in himself as he went along."It can't be me. Is that possible? How extraordinary," is how he greeted the first sight of himself as the Tramp on the screen.But that shock roused his imagination.Chaplin didn't have his jokes written into a script in advance; he was the kind of comic who used his physical senses to invent his art as he went along.Lifeless objects especially helped Chaplin make "contact" with himself as an artist.He turned them into other kinds of objects.Thus, a broken alarm clock in the movie The Pawnbroker became a "sick" patient undergoing surgery; boots were boiled in his film The Gold Rush and their soles eaten with salt and pepper like prime cuts of fish (the nails being removed like fish bones).This physical transformation, plus the skill with which he executed it again and again, is surely the secret of Chaplin's great comedy.He also had a deep need to be loved—and a corresponding fear of being betrayed.The two were hard to combine and sometimes—as in his early marriages—the collision between them resulted in disaster.Yet even this painfully-bought self-knowledge found its way into his comic creations.The Tramp never loses his faith in the flower girl who'll be waiting to walk into the sunset with him; while the other side of Chaplin makes Monsieur Verdoux, the French wife killer, into a symbol of hatred for women.It's a relief to know that life eventually gave Charlie Chaplin the stability and happiness it had earlier denied him.In Oona O'Neill Chaplin, he found a partner whose stability and affection spanned the 37 years age difference between them, which hadseemed so threatening, that when the official who was marrying them in 1942 turned to the beautiful girl of 17 who'd given notice of their wedding date, he said, "And where is the young man? "—Chaplin, then 54, had cautiously waited outside.As Oona herself was the child of a large family with its own problems, she was well prepared for the battle that Chaplin's life became as many unfounded rumors surrounded them both—and, later on, she was the center of calm in the quarrels that Chaplin sometimes sparked in his own large family of talented children.Chaplin died on Christmas Day 1977.A few months later, a couple of almost comic body thieves stole his body from the family burial chamber and held it for money.The police recovered it with more efficiency than Mack Sennett's clumsy Keystone Cops would have done, but one can't help feeling Chaplin would have regarded this strange incident as a fitting memorial—his way of having the last laugh on a world to which he had given so many. 2B Modest and soft-spoken, Agatha Muthoni Mbogo, 24, is hardly the image of a revolutionary.Yet, six months ago, she did a most revolutionary thing: She ran for mayor of Embu, Kenya, and won.Ms. Mbogo's victory was even more surprising because she was voted in by her colleagues on the District Council, all men.For the thousands of women in this farming area two hours northeast of Nairobi, Ms. Mbogo suddenly became a symbol of the increasingly powerful political force women have become in Kenya and across Africa.Ms. Mbogo launched her dream of a career in politics in 1992 by running for the Embu Council, facing the obstacles that often trouble African women running for political office.She had little money.She had no political experience.She faced ridiculous questions about her personal life."My opponent kept insisting that I was going to get married to somebody in another town and move away," Ms. Mbogo said.Ms. Mbogo also faced misunderstanding among the town's women, many of whom initially were unwilling to vote for her.She became an ambassador for women's political rights, giving speeches before women's groups and going from door to door, handbag in hand, spending hours at a time giving a combination of speech and government lesson."I was delighted when she won the election, because men elected her," said Lydiah Kimani, an Embu farmer and political activist."It was the answer to my prayers because it seemed to be a victory over this idea that 'women can't lead'."Education of African women has become a top priority for political activists.One organization has held dozens of workshops in rural Kenya to help women understand the nation's constitution and the procedures and theory behind a democratic political system.One veteran female political activist said that many women had not been taught the basics of political participation.They are taught to vote for the one who "gives you a half kilo sack of flour, 200 grams of salt, or a loaf of bread" during the campaign, said the activist.Women politicians and activists say they are fighting deeply-held cultural traditions.Those traditions teach that African women cook, clean, take care of children, sow and harvest crops and support their husbands.They typically do not inherit land, divorce their husband, control their finances or hold political office.Yet, political activity among Kenyan women is not a new phenomenon.During the struggle for independence in the 1950s, Kenyan women often secretly provided troops with weapons and spied on the positions of colonial forces.But after independence, leaders jealous to protect their power shut them out of politics, a situation repeated across the continent.Today, men still have the upper hand.Women in Kenya make up 60 percent of the people who vote, but only 3 percent of the National Assembly.No Kenyan woman has ever held a cabinet post.Against that background, Agatha Mbogo began her political career.After winning her council seat, she declined a spot on the education and social services committee after a colleague called it "a woman's committee".She instead joined the town planning committee, a much more visible assignment.Then last year, she decided to challenge Embu's mayor, a veteran politician.Ms. Mbogo said she had become frustrated because the donor groups that provide substantial aid to Kenya's rural areas "did not want to come here"."We weren't seeing things done for the community," she said."It was a scandal—the donors' money seemed to be going to individuals."After a fierce campaign, the council elected her, 7 to 6.She said women in Embu celebrated.Men were puzzled; some were hostile.They asked, "How could all of those men vote for a woman? " she recalled.Ms. Mbogo has not met with the kinds of abuse that other female politicians have been subjected to, however.Some have said their supporters are sometimes attacked with clubs after rallies.Last June, Kenyan police attempted to break up a women's political meeting northwest of Nairobi, insisting it was illegal and might start a riot.When the 100 women, including a member of the National Assembly, refused to go, officers tore down their banners and beat them with clubs and fists, witnesses reported.In contrast, Ms. Mbogo generally receives warm greetings from the men of Embu, and many say they are now glad the council chose her.Donor groups are now funding projects in Embu in earnest.A new market is going up downtown.A 200-bed section for new mothers is being added to the hospital.A dormitory-style home has been built for the dozens of homeless street children who once wandered the city.Ms. Mbogo is especially proud of the market and the hospital because "they have an impact on women".At the current market, where hundreds of people, shaded by umbrellas, lay out fruits and vegetables, one person who sells lemons said she liked the new mayor."I feel like if I have a problem, I can go to her office," she said."The other mayor shouted. He acted like an emperor. He did not want to hear my problems."Nearby, a man said he found Ms. Mbogo a refreshing change."I'm tired of men," he said, watching over his pile of onions."They give us so many promises, but they don't deliver the goods. As long as she keeps giving us what we want, she is all right."3A A welfare client is supposed to cheat. Everybody expects it.Faced with sharing a dinner of raw pet food with the cat, many people in wheelchairs I know bleed the system for a few extra dollars.They tell the government that they are getting two hundred dollars less than their real pension so they can get a little extra welfare money. Or, they tell the caseworker that the landlord raised the rent by a hundred dollars.I have opted to live a life of complete honesty.So instead, I go out and drum up some business and draw cartoons.I even tell welfare how much I make!Oh, I'm tempted to get paid under the table.But even if I yielded to that temptation, big magazines are not going to get involved in some sticky situation.They keep my records, and that information goes right into the government's computer.Very high-profile.As a welfare client I'm expected to bow before the caseworker.Deep down, caseworkers know that they are being made fools of by many of their clients, and they feel they are entitled to have clients bow to them as compensation. I'm not being bitter.Most caseworkers begin as college-educated liberals with high ideals.But after a few years in a system that practically requires people to lie, they become like the one I shall call "Suzanne", a detective in shorts.Not long after Christmas last year, Suzanne came to inspect my apartment and saw some new posters pasted on the wall."Where'd you get the money for those? " she wanted to know."Friends and family.""Well, you'd better have a receipt for it, by God. You have to report any donations or gifts."This was my cue to beg.Instead, I talked back."I got a cigarette from somebody on the street the other day. Do I have to report that? ""Well, I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules, Mr. Callahan."Suzanne tries to lecture me about repairs to my wheelchair, which is always breaking down because welfare won't spend money maintaining it properly."You know, Mr. Callahan, I've heard that you put a lot more miles on that wheelchair than average."Of course I do.I'm an active worker, not a vegetable.I live near downtown, so I can get around in a wheelchair.I wonder what she'd think if she suddenly broke her hip and had to crawl to work.Government cuts in welfare have resulted in hunger and suffering for a lot of people, not just me.But people with spinal cord injuries felt the cuts in a unique way: The government stopped taking care of our chairs.Each time mine broke down, lost a screw, needed a new roller bearing, the brake wouldn't work, etc., and I called Suzanne, I had to endure a little lecture.Finally, she'd say, "Well, if I can find time today, I'll call the medical worker."She was supposed to notify the medical worker, who would certify that there was a problem.Then the medical worker called the wheelchair repair companies to get the cheapest bid.Then the medical worker alerted the main welfare office at the state capital.They considered the matter for days while I lay in bed, unable to move.Finally, if I was lucky, they called back and approved the repair.When welfare learned I was making money on my cartoons, Suzanne started "visiting" every fortnight instead of every two months.She looked into every corner in search of unreported appliances, or maids, or a roast pig in the oven, or a new helicopter parked out back. She never found anything, but there was always a thick pile of forms to fill out at the end of each visit, accounting for every penny.There is no provision in the law for a gradual shift away from welfare.I am an independent businessman, slowly building up my market.It's impossible to jump off welfare and suddenly be making two thousand dollars a month. But I would love to be able to pay for some of my living and not have to go through an embarrassing situation every time I need a spare part for my wheelchair.There needs to be a lawyer who can act as a champion for the rights of welfare clients, because the system so easily lends itself to abuse by the welfare givers as well as by the clients.Welfare sent Suzanne to look around in my apartment the other day because the chemist said I was using a larger than usual amount of medical supplies.I was, indeed: The hole that has been surgically cut to drain urine had changed size and the connection to my urine bag was leaking.While she was taking notes, my phone rang and Suzanne answered it.The caller was a state senator, which scared Suzanne a little.Would I sit on the governor's committee and try to do something about the thousands of welfare clients who, like me, could earn part or all of their own livings if they were allowed to do so, one step at a time?Hell, yes, I would!Someday people like me will thrive under a new system that will encourage them, not seek to convict them of cheating.They will be free to develop their talents without guilt or fear—or just hold a good, steady job.3B It was late afternoon when the chairman of our Bangkok-based company gave me an assignment: I would leave the next day to accompany an important Chinese businessman to tourist sites in northern Thailand.Silently angry, I stared at my desk.The stacks of paper bore witness to a huge amount of work waiting to be done, even though I had been working seven days a week.How will I ever catch up? I wondered.After a one-hour flight the next morning, we spent the day visiting attractions along with hundreds of other tourists, most of them loaded with cameras and small gifts.I remember feeling annoyed at this dense collection of humanity.That evening my Chinese companion and I climbed into a chartered van to go to dinner and a show, one which I had attended many times before.While he chatted with other tourists, I exchanged polite conversation in the dark with a man seated in front of me, a Belgian who spoke fluent English.I wondered why he held his head motionless at an odd angle, as though he were in prayer.Then the truth struck me.He was blind.Behind me someone switched on a light, and I could see his thick silvery hair and strong, square jaw.His eyes seemed to contain a white mist."Could I please sit beside you at the dinner?" he asked."And I'd love it if you'd describe a little of what you see.""I'd be happy to," I replied.。

新视野大学英语第三版第四册课文及翻译

新视野大学英语第三版第四册课文及翻译Love and logic: The story of fallacyI had my first date with Polly after I made the trade with my roommate Rob. That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn“t stand the idea of being the only football player who didn"t, so he made a pact that he"d give me his girl in exchange for my jacket. He wasn"t the brightest guy. Polly wasn"t too shrewd, either.But she was pretty, well-off, didn"t dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup. She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer. If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant, well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition.\After a banner day out, I drove until we were situated under a big old oak tree on a hill off the expressway. What I had in mind was a little eccentric. I thought the venue with a perfect view of the luminous city would lighten the mood. We stayed in the car, and I turned down the stereo and took my foot off the brake pedal. \爱情与逻辑：谬误的故事在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后，我和波莉有了第一次约会。

新视野大学英语第三版第四册课文翻译

unit 1 TextALove and logic: The story of a fallacy爱情与逻辑: 谬误的故事1 I had my first date with Polly afterI made the trade with my roommate Rob.That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn't stand the idea of being the only football player who didn't, so he made a pact that he'd give me his girl in exchange for my jacket.He wasn't the brightest guy.Polly wasn't too shrewd, either.在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后, 我和波莉有了第一次约会。

那一年校园里每个人都有件皮夹克, 而罗伯是校足球队员中唯一一个没有皮夹克的, 他一想到这个就受不了, 于是他和我达成了一项协议, 用他的女友换取我的夹克。

他可不则聪明, 而他的女友波莉也不太精明。

2 But she was pretty, well-off, didn't dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup.She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer.If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant, well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition.但她漂亮而且富有, 也没有把头发染成奇怪的颜色或是化很浓的妆。

新视野大学英语第三版读写教程第四册课文原文及翻译

Love and logic: The story of fallacyI had my first date with Polly after I made the trade with my roommate Rob. That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn't stand the idea of being the only football player who didn't, so he made a pact that he'd give me his girl in exchange for my jacket. He wasn't the brightest guy. Polly wasn't too shrewd, either. But she was pretty, well-off, didn't dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup. She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer. If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant,well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition. "Radiant" she was already. I could dispense her enough pearls of wisdom to make her "well-spoken".After a banner day out, I drove until we were situated under a big old oak tree on ahill off the expressway. What I had in mind was a little eccentric. I thought the venue with a perfect view of the luminous city would lighten the mood. We stayed in the car, and I turned down the stereo and took my foot off the brake pedal. "What are we going to talk about?" she asked.爱情与逻辑：谬误的故事在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后，我和波莉有了第一次约会。

新视野大学英语第四册第三版课文及翻译

—－可编辑修改，可打印——别找了你想要的都有！精品教育资料——全册教案，，试卷，教学课件，教学设计等一站式服务——全力满足教学需求，真实规划教学环节最新全面教学资源，打造完美教学模式Unit 8A turning point of my life我人生的转折点I wasn't yet 30 years old and was working as a firefighter in New York City, in a firehouse completely swamped with calls. In the rare moments when we weren't busy, I would make calls on our cordless phone handset or rush to our office to read Captain Gray's subscription of the Sunday New York Times. Late one afternoon when I finally read the Book Review section, my blood began to boil. An article stated a thesis I took to be an offensive insult: William Butler Yeats, the Nobel Prize-winning light of the Irish Literary Renaissance, had risen above his Irishness and was now a universal poet. I grew indignant suddenly, and a deep-seated passion within me was activated.我那时还不到30 岁，是纽约市的一名消防员，我工作的消防站总是不断有求助电话进来。

新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第四册课文及翻译

The Temptation of a Respectable WomanMrs.Baroda was a little annoyed to learn that her husband expected his friend, Gouvernail, up to spend a week or two on the plantation.Gouvernail's quiet personality puzzled Mrs.Baroda. After a few days with him, she could understand him no better than at first. She left her husband and his guest, for the most part, alone together, only to find that Gouvernail hardly noticed her absence. Then she imposed her company upon him, accompanying him in his idle walks to the mill to press her attempt to penetrate the silence in which he had unconsciously covered himself. But it hardly worked."When is he going — your friend?" she one day asked her husband. "For my part, I find him a terrible nuisance.""Not for a week yet, dear. I can't understand; he gives you no trouble.""No. I should like him better if he did — if he were more like others, and I had to plan somewhat for his comfort and enjoyment."Gaston pulled the sleeve of his wife's dress, gathered his arms around her waist and looked merrily into her troubled eyes."You are full of surprises," he said to her. "Even I can never count upon how you are going to act under given conditions. Here you are," he went on, "taking poor Gouvernail seriously and making a fuss about him, the last thing he would desire or expect.""Fuss!" she hotly replied. "Nonsense! How can you say such a thing! Fuss, indeed! But, you know, you said he was clever.""So he is. But the poor fellow is run down by too much work now. That's why I asked him here to take a rest.""You used to say he was a man of wit," she said, still annoyed. "I expected him to be interesting, at least. I'm going to the city in the morning to have my spring dresses fitted. Let me know when Mr.Gouvernail is gone; until that time I shall be at my aunt's house."That night she went and sat alone upon a bench that stood beneath an oak tree at the edge of the walk. She had never known her thoughts to be so confused; like the bats now above her, her thoughts quickly flew this way and that. She could gather nothing from them but the feeling of a distinct necessity to leave her home in the next morning.Mrs.Baroda heard footsteps coming from the direction of the barn; she knew it was Gouvernail. She hoped to remain unnoticed, but her white gown revealed her to him. He seated himself upon the bench beside her, without a suspicion that she might object to his presence."Your husband told me to bring this to you, Mrs.Baroda," he said, handing her a length of sheer white fabric with which she sometimes covered her head and shoulders. She accepted it from him and let it lie in her lap.He made some routine observations upon the unhealthy effect of the night breeze at that season. Then as his gaze reached out into the darkness, hebegan to talk.Gouvernail was in no sense a shy man. His periods of silence were not his basic nature, but the result of moods. When he was sitting there beside Mrs.Baroda, his silence melted for the time.He talked freely and intimately in a low, hesitating voice that was not unpleasant to hear. He talked of the old college days when he and Gaston had been best friends, of the days of keen ambitions and large intentions. Now, all there was left with him was a desire to be permitted to exist, with now and then a little breath of genuine life, such as he was breathing now.Her mind only vaguely grasped what he was saying. His words became a meaningless succession of verbs, nouns, adverbs, and adjectives; she only drank in the tones of his voice. She wanted to reach out her hand in the darkness and touch him — which she might have done if she had not been a respectable woman.The stronger the desire grew to bring herself near him, the further, in fact, did she move away from him. As soon as she could do so without an appearance of being rude, she pretended to yawn, rose, and left him there alone.Mrs.Baroda was greatly tempted that night to tell her husband — who was also her friend — of this foolishness that had seized her. But she did not yield to the temptation. Besides being an upright and respectable woman she was also a very sensible one.When Gaston arose the next morning, his wife had already departed, without even saying farewell. A porter had carried her trunk to the station and she had taken an early morning train to the city. She did not return until Gouvernail was gone from under her roof.There was some talk of having him back during the summer that followed. That is, Gaston greatly desired it; but this desire yielded to his honorable wife's vigorous opposition.However, before the year ended, she proposed, wholly from herself, to have Gouvernail visit them again. Her husband was surprised and delighted with the suggestion coming from her."I am glad, my dear, to know that you have finally overcome your dislike for him; truly he did not deserve it.""Oh," she told him, laughingly, after pressing a long, tender kiss upon his lips, "I have overcome everything! You will see. This time I shall be very nice to him."一个正派女人受到的诱惑得知丈夫请了他的朋友古韦内尔来种植园小住一两周，巴罗达太太有点不快。

新视野大学英语第四册课文翻译

新视野⼤学英语第四册课⽂翻译新视野⼤学英语第四册课⽂翻译（全）新视野⼤学英语课⽂翻译（第四册）Unit 1Section A 名⽓之尾艺术家追求成名，如同狗⾃逐其尾，⼀旦追到⼿，除了继续追逐不知还能做些什么。

成功之残酷正在于它常常让那些追逐成功者⾃寻毁灭。

对⼀名正努⼒追求成功并刚刚崭露头⾓的艺术家，其亲朋常常会建议“正经的饭碗不能丢!”他们的担⼼不⽆道理。

追求出⼈头地，最乐观地说也困难重重，许多⼈到最后即使不是穷困潦倒，也是⼏近精神崩溃。

尽管如此，希望赢得追星族追捧和同⾏赞扬之类的不太纯洁的动机却在激励着他们向前。

享受成功的⽆上光荣，这种诱惑不是能轻易抵挡的。

成名者之所以成名，⼤多是因为发挥丁⾃⼰在歌唱、舞蹈、绘画或写作等⽅⾯的特长，并能形成⾃⼰的风格。

为了能迅速⾛红，经纪⼈会极⼒吹捧他们的这种风格。

他们青云直—上的过程让⼈看不清楚。

他们究竟是怎么成功的，⼤多数⼈也都说不上来。

尽管如此，艺术家仍然不能闲下来。

若表演者、画家或作家感到厌烦，他们的作品就难以继续保持以前的吸引⼒，也就难以保持公众的注意⼒。

公众的热情消磨以后，就会去追捧下⼀个⾛红的⼈。

有些艺术家为了不落伍，会对他们的写作、跳舞或唱歌的风格稍加变动，但这将冒极⼤的失宠的危险。

公众对于他们藉以成名的艺术风格以外的任何形式都将不屑⼀顾。

知名作家的⽂风⼀眼就能看出来，如⽥纳西·威廉斯的戏剧、欧内斯特·海明威的情节安排、罗伯特·弗罗斯特或T.S．艾略特的诗歌等。

同样，像莫奈、雷诺阿、达利这样的画家，希区柯克、费⾥尼、斯⽪尔伯格、陈凯歌或张艺谋这样的电影制作⼈也是如此。

他们鲜明独特的艺术风格标志着与别⼈不同的艺术形式上的重⼤变⾰，这让他们名利双收，但也让他们付出了代价，那就是失去了⽤其他风格或形式表现⾃我的⾃由。

名⽓这盏聚光灯可⽐热带丛林还要炙热。

骗局很快会被揭穿，过多的关注带来的压⼒会让⼤多数⼈难以承受。

它让你失去⾃我。

新视野大学英语第四册第三版课文及翻译

Unit 5Speaking Chinese in America在美国说中文Once，at a dinner on the Monterey Peninsula, California, my mother whispered to me confidentially："Sau-sau (brother’s wife）pretends too hard to be a polite recipient！Why bother with such nominal courtesy? In the end, she always takes everything.”有一次，在加州蒙特雷半岛上用餐时，我母亲私下悄悄地对我说：“嫂嫂想做个彬彬有礼的客人,但是装得太厉害了！何必费劲讲究形式上的客套呢?到最后她还是什么都要.”My mother acted like a waixiao, an emigrant, no longer patient with old taboos and courtesies. To prove her point，she reached across the table to offer my elderly aunt from Beijing the last scallop from the garlic seafood dish, along with the flank steak and the cucumber salad。

我母亲行事像个“外侨”，即一个移民国外的侨民，因为她已经不耐烦老一套的禁忌和礼数了。

为了证明她刚才的观点，她手伸过桌子,把蒜香海鲜拼盘里的最后一个扇贝，连同牛腩排及黄瓜沙拉一起，递给我从北京来的年长舅妈。

Sau—sau frowned. ”B'yao，zhenb'yao！” she cried, patting her substantial stomach. I don’t want it，really I don't.嫂嫂皱起了眉头，“不要,真不要！”她一边大声说一边拍着自己已经吃得很饱的肚子。

新视野大学英语(第二版)读写教程第四册课文翻译(最新完整版)

没有生命的物体特别有助于卓别林发挥自己艺术家的天赋。
他将这些物体想象成其他东西。
因此，在《当铺老板》中，一个坏闹钟变成了正在接受手术的“病人”；在《淘金记》中，靴子被放在锅里煮，靴底被蘸着盐和胡椒吃掉，就像上好的鱼片一样（鞋钉就像鱼骨那样被剔除）。
这种对事物的转化，以及他一次又一次做出这种转化的技巧，正是卓别林伟大喜剧的奥秘所在。
狗自逐其尾所得到的只是一条尾巴而已。
获得成功的人常常发现成功对他来说弊大于利。
所以要为真实的你、为自己的所为感到高兴，而不是拼命去获得成功。
做那些你为之感到骄傲的事情。
可能在有生之年你默默无闻，但你可能创作了更好的艺术。
tionB好名声的力量
夏日的一天，父亲让我去买些铁丝网和栅栏，用来围畜棚，把牛圈起来。
一边抬起胳膊去擦额头上紧张的汗珠。
那个农夫像寻开心般怀疑地看着我，但是巴克的脸色却没有变。
他随和地说道：“当然可以，你老爹总能有借有还，”一边伸手去拿记账的账本。
我舒了一口气。
他转过头，对那个农夫说：
“这是詹姆士·威廉的儿子。
像詹姆士·威廉这样讲信用的人是很少的。”
那个农夫友善地点了点头。
我的心里顿时充满了自豪。
那时我16岁，最喜欢开上货车，沿着老磨坊路到城里去。
研磨机轮子上的水花在阳光下喷洒，在河道上空形成一道彩虹。我常在半路上把车停下来，在河里洗个澡，凉快一会，享受一下天然空调。
太阳火辣辣的，不用毛巾擦，等我爬上岸边的土坡，穿过路边的壕沟，到达货车时，身上已经都干了。
快进城时，有一段沿着海滩的路，我会在那儿拣贝壳，拣海藻，头顶就是正从轮船上卸货的巨大的起重机。
他们也可以为自己的失败辩解：自己的才华实在过于高深，不是当代听众或观众所理解得了的。

新视野大学英语【第三版】读写教程第四册课文原文及翻译-新视野大学英语四翻译原文

Unit 1Text A Love and logic: The story of a fallacy爱情与逻辑：谬误的故事1 I had my first date with Polly after I made the trade with my roommate Rob. That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn't stand the idea of being the only football player who didn't, so he made a pact that he'd give me his girl in exchange for my jacket. He wasn't the brightest guy. Polly wasn't too shrewd, either.在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后，我和波莉有了第一次约会。

那一年校园里每个人都有件皮夹克，而罗伯是校足球队员中唯一一个没有皮夹克的，他一想到这个就受不了，于是他和我达成了一项协议，用他的女友换取我的夹克。

他可不那么聪明，而他的女友波莉也不太精明。

2 But she was pretty, well-off, didn't dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup. She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer. If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant, well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition.但她漂亮而且富有，也没有把头发染成奇怪的颜色或是化很浓的妆。

新视野大学英语读写教程第二版第四册课文翻译

新视野大学英语读写教程（第二版）第四册课文翻译Unit 1 Section A1. 艺术家追求成名，如同狗自逐其尾，一旦追到手，除了继续追逐不知还能做些什么。

成功之残酷正在于它常常让那些追逐成功者自寻毁灭。

2. 对一名正努力追求成功并刚刚崭露头角的艺术家，其亲朋常常会建议“正经的饭碗不能丢！”他们的担心不无道理。

追求出人头地，最乐观地说也困难重重，许多人到最后即使不是穷困潦倒，也是几近精神崩溃。

尽管如此，希望赢得追星族追捧和同行赞扬之类的不太纯洁的动机却在激励着他们向前。

享受成功的无上光荣，这种诱惑不是能轻易抵挡的。

3. 成名者之所以成名，大多是因为发挥了自己在歌唱、舞蹈、绘画或写作等方面的特长，并能形成自己的风格。

为了能迅速走红，代理人会极力吹捧他们这种风格。

他们青云直上的过程让人看不清楚。

他们究竟是怎么成功的，大多数人也都说不上来。

尽管如此，艺术家仍然不能闲下来。

若表演者、画家或作家感到无聊，他们的作品就难以继续保持以前的吸引力，也就难以保持公众的注意力。

公众的热情消磨以后，就会去追捧下一个走红的人。

有些艺术家为了不落伍，会对他们的写作、跳舞或唱歌的风格稍加变动，但这将冒极大的失宠的危险。

公众对于他们藉以成名的艺术风格以外的任何形式都将不屑一顾。

4. 知名作家的文风一眼就能看出来，如田纳西·威廉斯的戏剧、欧内斯特·海明威的情节安排、罗伯特·弗罗斯特或T.S.艾略特的诗歌等。

同样，像莫奈、雷诺阿、达利这样的画家，希区柯克、费里尼、斯皮尔伯格、陈凯歌或张艺谋这样的电影制作人也是如此。

他们鲜明独特的艺术风格标志着与别人不同的艺术形式上的重大变革，这让他们名利双收，但也让他们付出了代价，那就是失去了用其他风格或形式表现自我的自由。

5. 名气这盏聚光灯可比热带丛林还要炙热。

骗局很快会被揭穿，过多的关注带来的压力会让大多数人难以承受。

它让你失去自我。

你必须是公众认可的那个你，而不是真实的你或是可能的你。

新视野大学英语(第三版)第四册课文翻译

unit 1 TextALove and logic: The story of a fallacy爱情与逻辑：谬误的故事1 I had my first date with Polly after I made the trade with my roommate Rob. That year every guy on campus had a leather jacket, and Rob couldn't stand the idea of being the only football player who didn't, so he made a pact that he'd give me his girl in exchange for my jacket. He wasn't the brightest guy. Polly wasn't too shrewd, either.在我和室友罗伯的交易成功之后，我和波莉有了第一次约会。

那一年校园里每个人都有件皮夹克，而罗伯是校足球队员中唯一一个没有皮夹克的，他一想到这个就受不了，于是他和我达成了一项协议，用他的女友换取我的夹克。

他可不那么聪明，而他的女友波莉也不太精明。

2 But she was pretty, well-off, didn't dye her hair strange colors or wear too much makeup. She had the right background to be the girlfriend of a dogged, brilliant lawyer. If I could show the elite law firms I applied to that I had a radiant, well-spoken counterpart by my side, I just might edge past the competition.但她漂亮而且富有，也没有把头发染成奇怪的颜色或是化很浓的妆。