全新版大学英语综合教程第二版课文原文单元

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(完整版)全新版大学英语综合教程第二册1~6单元A课文翻译及原文整理最新版

Unit1 A Learning, Chinese-StyleUnit2 A A Life Full of RichesUnit3 A Father Knows BetterUnit4 A A Virtual LifeUnit5 A True HeightUnit6 A A Woman Can Learn Anything a Man CanUnit1Howard Gardner, a professor of education at Harvard University, reflects on a visit to China and gives his thoughts on different approaches to learning in China and the West.哈佛大学教育学教授霍华德·加德纳回忆其中国之行，阐述他对中西方不同的学习方式的看法。

Learning, Chinese-StyleHoward Gardner 1 For a month in the spring of 1987, my wife Ellen and I lived in the bustling eastern Chinese city of Nanjing with our 18-month-old son Benjamin while studying arts education in Chinese kindergartens and elementary schools. But one of the most telling lessons Ellen and I got in the difference between Chinese and American ideas of education came not in the classroom but in the lobby of the Jinling Hotel where we stayed in Nanjing.中国式的学习风格霍华德·加德纳1987年春，我和妻子埃伦带着我们18个月的儿子本杰明在繁忙的中国东部城市南京住了一个月，同时考察中国幼儿园和小学的艺术教育情况。

(完整版)全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程3课文原文及翻译Until1-8较完整版

但如此美妙的生活有时会变得相当艰苦.就在三个月前，气温降到华氏零下30度，我们辛苦劳作了整整两天，用一个雪橇沿着河边拖运木柴。再过三个月，气温会升到95度，我们就要给玉米松土,在草莓地除草,还要宰杀家禽.前一阵子我和桑迪不得不翻修后屋顶。过些时候，四个孩子中的两个小的,16岁的吉米和13岁的埃米莉，会帮着我一起把拖了很久没修的室外厕所修葺一下,那是专为室外干活修建的.这个月晚些时候，我们要给果树喷洒药水，要油漆谷仓,要给菜园播种，要赶在新的小鸡运到之前清扫鸡舍.
8 The next year we grew even more food and managed to get through the winter on firewood that was mostly from our own trees and only 100 gallons of heating oil. At that point I began thinking seriously about quitting my job and starting to freelance. The timing was terrible。பைடு நூலகம்By then， Shawn and Amy， our oldest girls were attending expensive Ivy League schools and we had only a few thousand dollars in the bank。 Yet we kept coming back to the same question: Will there ever be a better time？ The answer， decidedly， was no， and so —— with my employer’s blessings and half a year’s pay in accumulated benefits in my pocket -- off I went.

全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程2课文背诵段落原文及翻译

我们两种文化的差异也可以从我们各自所怀的忧虑中显示出来。

中国老师担心，如果年轻人不及早掌握技艺，就有可能一辈子掌握不了；另一方面，他们并不同样地急于促进创造力的发展。

美国教育工作者则担心，除非从一开始就发展创造力，不然创造力就有可能永不再现；而另一方面，技艺可于日后获得。

13 However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon).但我并不想夸大其辞。

全新版大学英语综合教程2课文原文及翻译.pdf

学海无涯Unit1One way of summarizing the American position is to state that we value originality and independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers teachers are are fearful that if skills skills are are not acquired acquired early, early, they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity. American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on the other hand, skills can be picked up later.However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon).But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and creativity are both worthwhile goals, the the important important important question becomes this: Can question becomes this: Can we gather, from the Chinese and American extremes, a superior way to approach education, perhaps striking a better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?Walton set up a college scholarship fund for employees'children, a disaster relief fund to rebuild employee homes damaged by fires, floods, tornadoes, and the like. He believed in cultivating ideas and rewarding success."He'd say, 'That fellow worked hard, let's give him a little extra,'" recalls recalls retired retired retired president president president Ferold F. Ferold F. Arend, who was stunned at such generosity after the stingy employer he left to join Wal-Mart. "I had to change my way of thinking when I came aboard.""The reason for our success," success," says says Walton, in a company handout, handout, "is our people "is our people and the way they're treated treated and and and the the way they feel about their company. They believe things are different here, but they deserve the credit."Adds company lawyer Jim Hendren: "I've never seen anyone yet who worked for him or was around him for any length of time who wasn't better off. And I don't mean just financially, although a lot of people are. It's just something about him -- coming into contact with Sam Walton just makes you a better person." Making the journey from log cabin to White House is part of the American Dream. But when Jimmy Carter was defeated in his attempt to gain a second term as President of the United States he found himself suddenly thrown out of the White House and back in his log cabin. cabin. This This is how he coped.SEAN: If that sort of thing happened only once in a while,it wouldn't be so bad. Overall, I wouldn't want to trade my dad for anyone else's. He loves us kids and Mom too. But I I think that's sometimes the think that's sometimes the problem. problem. He He He wants wants wants to to to do do do things things for us, things he thinks thinks are are good. But he needs needs to to give them more thought because:SEAN, HEIDI and DIANE: (In unison) Father knows better! (The lights quickly fade to black and then come up a second or two later. DIANE stands alone at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and SEAN enter Down Left and cross to the edge of the stage. )DIANE: Can you imagine how humiliated I was? An honor student, class president. And Father was out asking people to have their sons call and ask me to the prom! But that's dear old dad. Actually, he is a dear. He just doesn't stop to think. And it's not just one of us who've felt the heavy hand of interference. Oh, no, all three of us live in constant constant dread dread knowing that at any time disaster disaster can can strike because: Father knows better.I'd never realized how important daily routine is:dressing for work, sleeping normal hours. I'd never thought I relied so much on co-workers for company. I began to understand why long-term unemployment can be so damaging, why life without an externally supported daily plan can lead to higher rates of drug abuse, crime, suicide.To restore balance to my life, I force myself back into the real world. I call people, arrange to meet with the few remaining friends who haven't fled New York City. I try to at least least get get get to to to the the the gym, gym, gym, so so so as as to set set apart apart apart the the the weekend weekend weekend from from the rest of my week. I arrange interviews for stories, doctor's appointments -- anything to get me out of the house and connected with others.But sometimes being face to face is too much. I see a friend friend and and her ringing laughter laughter is is intolerable intolerable -- -- the noise of conversation in the restaurant, unbearable. I make my excuses and flee. I re-enter my apartment and run to the computer as though it were a place of safety.I click on the modem, the once-annoying sound of the connection now as pleasant as my favorite tune. I enter my password. The real world disappears.Thought you were safe sharing secrets with Internet friends? Wait for the doorbell...The runway felt different this time. It startled himfor a brief moment. Then it all hit him like a wet bale of hay. The bar was set at nine inches higher than his personal best. That's only one inch off the National record, he thought. The intensity of the moment filled his mind with anxiety. He began shaking the tension. It wasn't working. He became more tense. Why was this happening to him now, he thought. He began to get nervous. Afraid would be a more accurate accurate description. description. description. What was What was he he going to do? going to do? He He had never had never experienced these feelings. Then out of nowhere, and from the the deepest deepest deepest depths depths depths of his soul, of his soul, he he pictured pictured pictured his his his mother. Why mother. Why now? What was his mother doing in his thoughts at a time like this? It was simple. His mother always used to tell him when you felt tense, anxious or even scared, take deep breaths.So he did. Along with shaking the tension from his legs, he gently laid his pole at his feet. He began to stretch out his arms and upper body. The light breeze that was once there was now gone. He carefully picked up his pole. He felt his heart pounding. He was sure the crowd did, too. The silence was deafening. When he heard the singing of some distant birds in flight, he knew it was his time to fly.Racing Racing the the clock every day is such an exhausting exhausting effort effortthat when I actually have a few free moments, I tend to collapse. Mostly I sink into a chair and stare into space while I imagine how lovely life would be if only I possessed the organizational skills and the energy of my superheroines. In fact, I waste a good deal of my spare time just worrying about what other women are accomplishing in theirs. Sometimes I think that these modern fairy tales create as many problems for women as the old stories that had us biding our time for the day our prince would come.Yet superwomen tales continue to charm me. Despite my friend's warning against being taken in, despite everything I've learned, I find that I'm not only willing, but positively eager to buy that bridge she mentioned. Why? I suppose it has something to do with the appeal of an optimistic approach to life -- and the fact that extraordinary deeds have been accomplished by determined individuals who refused to believe believe that that "you can't" can't" was was the final word on their dreams. Men have generally been assured that achieving their heart's desires would would be a be a piece of cake. Women, Women, of of of course, course, have always believed that we can't have our cake and eat it too-the old low-dream diet. Perhaps becoming a superwoman is an impossible dream for me, but life without that kind of fantasy is as unappealing as a diet with no treats.1) The young woman described to the policemen the way the man ran up to her and grabbed the bag from her hand.2) All the people working for Sam Walton admire the way he manages Wal-Mart and the way he treats his employees.3) The neighbors were disgusted at the way he talked to his old father. 4) It's amazing the way the eight-year-old boy managed to stay so calm when he faced the emergency.1. You will find yourself penniless in a month.2. He found himself lying in a hospital ward.3. She found herself faced with the toughest job she had ever taken.4. Susan found herself in a trap from which she could not escape.1) Obviously what the speaker wanted to emphasize was the impact of these findings rather than the process that led to these findings.2) It seems that he is never bothered about what people would think about his behavior.3) The CEO never hesitates to let his employees know what he is planning for the company.4) The scientist will show the audience what a tele-operated robot can do for a family.5)Despite all this she manages to get her act together.1、She herself believed in freedom,so much so that she would rather die than live without it.2、Assuming the proposal is accepted,where are we going to get the money?3、Only by rewarding success can you bring out the best in your employess.4、It It’’s amazing the eight-year-old boy managed to stay so calm when he faced the emergency.5、Allen Allen should should should have have have known better known better than to lend such such a large a large sum of money to that untrustworthy cousin of his.。

全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程2课文背诵段1-8单元全

Unit112 One way of summarizing the American position is to state that we value originality and independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers are fearful that if skills are not acquired early, they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity. American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on the other hand, skills can be picked up later.13 However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon).14 But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and creativity are both worthwhile goals, the important question becomes this: Can we gather, from the Chinese and American extremes, a superior way to approach education, perhaps striking a better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?Unit2Yet I feel nothing more than a passing whim to attain the material things so many other people have. My 1999 car shows the wear and tear of 105,000 miles. But it is still dependable. My apartment is modest, but quiet and relaxing. My clothes are well suited to my work, which is primarily outdoors. My minimal computer needs can be met at the library.In spite of what I don’t have, I don’t feel poor. Why? I’ve enjoyed exceptionall y good health for 53 years. It’s not just that I’ve been illness-free, it’s that I feel vigorous and spirited. Exercising is actually fun for me. I look forward to long, energizing walks.And I love the “can do” attitude that follows.I also cherish the gift of creativity. When I write a beautiful line of poetry, or fabricate a joke that tickles someone, I feel rich inside. I’m continually surprised at the insights that come through my writing process. And talking with so many interesting writer friends is one of my main sources of enjoyment.Unit3If that sort of thing happened only once in a while, it wouldn't be so bad. Overal l, I wouldn't want to trade my dad for anyone else's. He loves us kids and Mom too. But I think that's sometimes the problem. He wants to do things for us, things he thi nks are good. But he needs to give them more thought because:Can you imagine how humiliated I was? An honor student, class president. And Father was out asking people to have their sons call and ask me to the prom! But tha t's dear old dad. Actually, he is a dear. He just doesn't stop to think. And it's not just o ne of us who've felt the heavy hand of interference. Oh, no, all three of us live in cons tant dread knowing that at any time disaster can strike because:Unit410 I'd never realized how important daily routine is: dressing for work, sleeping normal hours. I'd never thought I relied so much on co-workers for company. I began to understand why long-term unemployment can be so damaging, why life without an externally supported daily plan can lead to higher rates of drug abuse, crime, suicide.11 To restore balance to my life, I force myself back into the real world. I call people, arrange to meet with the few remaining friends who haven't fled New York City. I try to at least get to the gym, so as to set apart the weekend from the rest of my week. I arrange interviews for stories, doctor's appointments -- anything to get me out of the house and connected with others.12 But sometimes being face to face is too much. I see a friend and her ringing laughter is intolerable -- the noise of conversation in the restaurant, unbearable. I make my excuses and flee. I re-enter my apartment and run to the computer as though it were a place of safety.13 I click on the modem, the once-annoying sound of the connection now as pleasant as my favorite tune. I enter my password. The real world disappears.Unit59 The runway felt different this time. It startled him for a brief moment. Then it all hit him like a wet bale of hay. The bar was set at nine inches higher than his personal best. That's only one inch off the National record, he thought. The intensityof the moment filled his mind with anxiety. He began shaking the tension. It wasn't working. He became more tense. Why was this happening to him now, he thought. He began to get nervous. Afraid would be a more accurate description. What was he going to do? He had never experienced these feelings. Then out of nowhere, and from the deepest depths of his soul, he pictured his mother. Why now? What was his mother doing in his thoughts at a time like this? It was simple. His mother always used to tell him when you felt tense, anxious or even scared, take deep breaths.10 So he did. Along with shaking the tension from his legs, he gently laid his pole at his feet. He began to stretch out his arms and upper body. The light breeze that was once there was now gone. He carefully picked up his pole. He felt his heart pounding. He was sure the crowd did, too. The silence was deafening. When he heard the singing of some distant birds in flight, he knew it was his time to fly.Unit6Why are we so quick to limit ourselves? I’m not denying that most little girls lov e dolls and most little boys love videogames, and it may be true that some people fav or side of their brain, and others the left. But how relevant is that to me, or to anyon e, as an individual? Instead of translating our differences into hard and fast conclusio ns about the human brain, why can’t we focus instead on how incredibly flexible we are? Instead of using what we know as a reason why women can’t learn physics, may be we should consider the possibility that our brains are more powerful than we ima gine.Here’s a secret: math and science don’t come easily to most people. No one wa s ever born knowing calculus. A woman can learn anything a man can, but first she needs to know that she can do it, and that takes a leap of faith. It also helps to have selective hearing.Uint78 Two centuries ago an English judge in India noticed that several words in Sanskrit closely resembled some words in Greek and Latin. A systematic study revealed that many modern languages descended from a common parent language, lost to us because nothing was written down.9 Identifying similar words, linguists have come up with what they call an Indo-European parent language, spoken until 3500 to 2000 B.C. These people had common words for snow, bee and wolf but no word for sea. So some scholars assume they lived somewhere in north-central Europe, where it was cold. Traveling east, some established the languages of India and Pakistan, and others drifted west toward the gentler climates of Europe. Some who made the earliest move westward became known as the Celts, whom Caesar's armies found in Britain.10 New words came with the Germanic tribes -- the Angles, the Saxons, etc. -- that slipped across the North Sea to settle in Britain in the 5th century. Together they formed what we call Anglo-Saxon society.11 The Anglo-Saxons passed on to us their farming vocabulary, including sheep, ox, earth, wood, field and work. They must have also enjoyed themselves because they gave us the word laughter.Unit8There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings. The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperous farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in spring, white clouds of bloom drifted above the green fields. In autumn, oak and maple and birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered across a backdrop of pines. Then foxes barked in the hills and deer silently crossed the fields, half hidden in the mists of the fall mornings.Along the roads, laurel, viburnum and alder, great ferns and wildflowers delighted the traveler's eye through much of the year. Even in winter the road- sides were places of beauty, where countless birds came to feed on the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds rising above the snow. The country- side was, in fact, famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life, and when the flood of migrants was pouring through in spring and fall people traveled from great distances to observe them. Others came to fish the streams, which flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained shady pools where trout lay. So it had been from the days many years ago when the first settlers raised their houses, sank their wells, and built their barns.。

全新版大学英语综合教程-2-课文电子书

全新版大学英语第二册课文Unit 1Text A Learning, Chinese-StyleText 课文Part I Pre-reading TaskListen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:1. Who should teach whom? Is learning a one-way street?2. Should we share our dreams for a better life with our parents or keep them to ourselves?3. Can children ever understand their parents completely?4. From the song can you guess what the theme of the unit, way of learning, chiefly refers to?Part II Text AHoward Gardner, a professor of education at Harvard University, reflects on a visit to China and gives his thoughts on different approaches to learning in China and the West.LEARNING, CHINESE-STYLEHoward GardnerFor a month in the spring of 1987, my wife Ellen and I lived in the bustling eastern Chinese city of Nanjing with our 18-month-old son Benjamin while studying arts education in Chinese kindergartens and elementary schools. But one of the most telling lessons Ellen and I got in the difference between Chinese and American ideas of education came not in the classroom but in the lobby of the Jinling Hotel where we stayed in Nanjing.The key to our room was attached to a large plastic block with the room number on it. When leaving the hotel, a guest was encouraged to turn in the key, either by handing it to an attendant or by dropping it through a slot into a box. Because the key slot was narrow, the key had to be positioned carefully to fit into it.Benjamin loved to carry the key around, shaking it vigorously. He also liked to try to place it into the slot. Because of his tender age and incomplete understanding of the need to position the key just so, he would usually fail. Benjamin was not bothered in the least. He probably got as much pleasure out of the sounds the key made as he did those few times when the key actually found its way into the slot.Now both Ellen and I were perfectly happy to allow Benjamin to bang the key near the keyslot. His exploratory behavior seemed harmless enough. But I soon observed an interesting phenomenon. Any Chinese staff member nearby would come over to watch Benjamin and, noting his lack of initial success, attempt to assist. He or she would hold onto Benjamin's hand and, gently but firmly, guide it directly toward the slot, reposition it as necessary, and help him to insert it. The "teacher" would then smile somewhat expectantly at Ellen or me, as if awaiting a thank you — and on occasion would frown slightly, as if considering us to be neglecting our parental duties.I soon realized that this incident was directly relevant to our assigned tasks in China: to investigate the ways of early childhood education (especially in the arts), and to throw light on Chinese attitudes toward creativity. And so before long I began to introduce the key-slot anecdote into my discussions with Chinese educators.TWO DIFFERENT W AYS TO LEARNWith a few exceptions my Chinese colleagues displayed the same attitude as the staff at the Jinling Hotel. Since adults know how to place the key in the key slot, which is the ultimate purpose of approaching the slot, and since the child is neither old enough nor clever enough to realize the desired action on his own, what possible gain is achieved by having him struggle? He may well get frustrated and angry — certainly not a desirable outcome. Why not show him what to do? He will be happy, he will learn how to accomplish the task sooner, and then he can proceed to more complex activities, like opening the door or asking for the key—both of which accomplishments can (and should) in due course be modeled for him as well.We listened to such explanations sympathetically and explained that, first of all, we did not much care whether Benjamin succeeded in inserting the key into the slot. He was having a good time and was exploring, two activities that did matter to us. But the critical point was that, in the process, we were trying to teach Benjamin that one can solve a problem effectively by oneself. Such self-reliance is a principal value of child rearing in middle-class America. So long as the child is shown exactly how to do something — whether it be placing a key in a key slot, drawing a hen or making up for a misdeed — he is less likely to figure out himself how to accomplish such a task. And, more generally, he is less likely to view life —as Americans do —as a series of situations in which one has to learn to think for oneself, to solve problems on one's own and even to discover new problems for which creative solutions are wanted.TEACHING BY HOLDING HIS HANDIn retrospect, it became clear to me that this incident was indeed key — and key in more than one sense. It pointed to important differences in the educational and artistic practices in our two countries.When our well-intentioned Chinese observers came to Benjamin's rescue, they did not simply push his hand down clumsily or uncertainly, as I might have done. Instead, they guided him with extreme facility and gentleness in precisely the desired direction. I came to realize that these Chinese were not just molding and shaping Benjamin's performance in any old manner: In the bestChinese tradition, they were ba zhe shoujiao — "teaching by holding his hand" — so much so that he would happily come back for more.The idea that learning should take place by continual careful shaping and molding applies equally to the arts. Watching children at work in a classroom setting, we were astonished by their facility. Children as young as 5 or 6 were painting flowers, fish and animals with the skill and confidence of an adult; calligraphers 9 and 10 years old were producing works that could have been displayed in a museum. In a visit to the homes of two of the young artists, we learned from their parents that they worked on perfecting their craft for several hours a day.CREATIVITY FIRST?In terms of attitudes to creativity there seems to be a reversal of priorities: young Westerners making their boldest departures first and then gradually mastering the tradition; and young Chinese being almost inseparable from the tradition, but, over time, possibly evolving to a point equally original.One way of summarizing the American position is to state that we value originality and independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers are fearful that if skills are not acquired early, they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity. American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on the other hand, skills can be picked up later.However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon ).But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and creativity are both worthwhile goals, the important question becomes this: Can we gather, from the Chinese and American extremes, a superior way to approach education, perhaps striking a better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?(1182 words)Unit 2 Text A The Richest Man In America, Down HomeText 课文Part I Pre-reading TaskListen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:1. Who is it about?2. What happened to him one day?3. Do you think it was worthwhile to walk two or three miles to pay back the six and a quarter cents?4. Is the story related to the theme of the unit — values?The following words in the recording may be new to you:dismayn. 沮丧，失望disturbvt. 使不安conscientiousa. 认真的，尽职的Part II Text ADoes being rich mean you live a completely different life from ordinary people? Not, it seems, if your name is Sam Walton.THE RICHEST MAN IN AMERICA, DOWN HOMEArt HarrisHe put on a dinner jacket to serve as a waiter at the birthday party of The Richest Man in America. He imagined what surely awaited: a mansion, a "Rolls-Royce for every day of the week," dogs with diamond collars, servants everywhere.Then he was off to the house, wheeling past the sleepy town square in Bentonville, a remote Arkansas town of 9,920, where Sam Walton started with a little dime store that grew into a $6 billion discount chain called Wal-Mart. He drove down a country road, turned at a mailbox marked "Sam and Helen Walton," and jumped out at a house in the woods.It was nice, but no palace. The furniture appeared a little worn. An old pickup truck sat in the garage and a muddy bird dog ran about the yard. He never spotted any servants."It was a real disappointment," sighs waiter Jamie Beaulieu.Only in America can a billionaire carry on like plain folks and get away with it. And the 67-year-old discount king Sam Moore Walton still travels these windy back roads in his 1979 Ford pickup, red and white, bird dogs by his side, and, come shooting season, waits in line like everyone else to buy shells at the local Wal-Mart."He doesn't want any special treatment," says night manager Johnny Baker, who struggles to call the boss by his first name as a recent corporate memo commands. Few here think of his billions; they call him "Mr. Sam" and accept his folksy ways. "He's the same man who opened his dime store on the square and worked 18 hours a day for his dream," says Mayor Richard Hoback.By all accounts, he's friendly, cheerful, a fine neighbor who does his best to blend in, never flashy, never throwing his weight around.No matter how big a time he had on Saturday night, you can find him in church on Sunday. Surely in a reserved seat, right? "We don't have reserved seats," says Gordon Garlington III, pastor of the local church.So where does The Richest Man in America sit? Wherever he finds a seat. "Look, he's just not that way. He doesn't have a set place. At a church supper the other night, he and his wife were in back washing dishes."For 19 years, he's used the same barber. John Mayhall finds him waiting when he opens up at 7 a.m. He chats about the national news, or reads in his chair, perhaps the Benton County Daily Democrat, another Walton property that keeps him off the front page. It buried the Forbes list at the bottom of page 2."He's just not a front-page person," a newspaper employee explains.But one recent morning, The Richest Man in America did something that would have made headlines any where in the world: He forgot his money. "I said, 'Forget it, take care of it next time,'" says barber Mayhall. "But he said, 'No, I'll get it,' and he went home for his wallet."Wasn't that, well, a little strange? "No sir," says Mayhall, "the only thing strange about Sam Walton is that he isn't strange."But just how long Walton can hold firm to his folksy habits with celebrity hunters keeping following him wherever he goes is anyone's guess. Ever since Forbes magazine pronounced him America's richest man, with $2.8 billion in Wal-Mart stock, he's been a rich man on the run, steering clear of reporters, dreamers, and schemers."He may be the richest by Forbes rankings," says corporate affairs director Jim V on Gremp,"but he doesn't know whether he is or not — and he doesn't care. He doesn't spend much. He owns stock, but he's always left it in the company so it could grow. But the real story in his mind is the success achieved by the 100,000 people who make up the Wal-Mart team."He's usually back home for Friday sales meetings, or the executive pep rally Saturday morning at 7 a.m., when Walton, as he does at new store openings, is liable to jump up on a chair and lead everyone in the Wal-Mart cheer: "Give me a W! Give me an A! Give me an L! Louder!"And louder they yell. No one admits to feeling the least bit silly. It's all part of the Wal-Mart way of life as laid down by Sam: loyalty, hard work, long hours; get ideas into the system from the bottom up, Japanese-style; treat your people right; cut prices and margins to the bone and sleep well at night. Employees with one year on board qualify for stock options, and are urged to buy all they can.After the pep rally, there's bird hunting, or tennis on his backyard court. But his stores are always on his mind. One tennis guest managed to put him off his game by asking why a can of balls cost more in one Wal-Mart than another. It turned out to be untrue, but the move worked. Walton lost four straight games.Walton set up a college scholarship fund for employees' children, a disaster relief fund to rebuild employee homes damaged by fires, floods, tornadoes, and the like. He believed in cultivating ideas and rewarding success."He'd say, 'That fellow worked hard, let's give him a little extra,'" recalls retired president Ferold F. Arend, who was stunned at such generosity after the stingy employer he left to join Wal-Mart. "I had to change my way of thinking when I came aboard.""The reason for our success," says Walton, in a company handout, "is our people and the way they're treated and the way they feel about their company. They believe things are different here, but they deserve the credit."Adds company lawyer Jim Hendren: "I've never seen anyone yet who worked for him or was around him for any length of time who wasn't better off. And I don't mean just financially, although a lot of people are. It's just something about him —coming into contact with Sam Walton just makes you a better person."(1066 words)Unit 2 Text A Father knows BetterText 课文Part I Pre-reading TaskListen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:1. What sort of a song is it?2. Who should be sitting up and taking notice? Why?3. What does the singer think of his parent's way of doing things?4. Do you agree with what he says?The following words in the recording may be new to you:roamvi. 漫游drenchvt. 使湿透prophesizev. 作预言senatorn. 参议员heedvt. 注意stallv. 拖延ragevi. 激烈地进行Part II Text AThis comedy centers around a proud father's attempts to help his children, attempts which somehow or other always end up embarrassing them. For the sake of fun it carries things to extremes, but nearly everyone can recognize something of themselves and their parents in it.FATHER KNOWS BETTERMarsh CassadyCHARACTERS: FATHER; MOTHER; HEIDI, 14; DIANE, 17; SEAN, 16; RESTAURANT MANAGER, 20s; MRS. HIGGINS.SETTING: Various locations including a fast-food restaurant, the Thompson family dining room, and an office at a high school.ATRISE: As the lights come up, HEIDI enters and crosses Down Right to the edge of the stage. SEAN and DIANE enter and cross Down Left to the edge of the stage. They listen as HEIDI addresses the audience.HEIDI: My dad's a nice man. Nobody could possibly believe that he isn't. Yet he's... well, he's always doing these stupid things that end up really embarrassing one or more of us kids. One time, see, my brother wanted to buy this guitar. Been saving money for it for a long time. Then he got a job at this fast-food place, OK? Waiting tables. It was Sean's first actual job, and he was real happy about it. He figured in two or three months he'd have enough money to buy exactly the kind of guitar he wanted. Mom and Dad were proud of him, and well, OK, he's my big brother, and he's always pulling these dumb things on me. But, well, I was proud of him too. You know what happened? I hate to tell you because:SEAN, DIANE and HEIDI: (In unison) Father knows better!(The lights come Up Left on the fast-food restaurant where SEAN works. It consists of a counter and a couple of small tables. The MAN-AGER stands behind the counter. SEAN is busily cleaning the tables when FATHER walks in.)MANAGER: Good evening, sir. May I help you?FATHER: Good evening.SEAN: (To himself) Oh, no!(He squats behind one of the tables trying to hide from FATHER.)FATHER: I'm looking for the manager.MANAGER: That would be me, sir.FATHER: I'm Sam Thompson. My son works here.MANAGER: Oh, you're Sean's father.FATHER: Yes. It's his first job, you know. I just wanted to check that he's doing OK.MANAGER: Oh, fine. No problem.SEAN: (Spreading his hands, palms up, speaking to himself) What did I do to deserve this? Tell me what?FATHER: Hiring him was a good thing then?MANAGER: Well, yeah, I suppose so.SEAN: (Still to himself.) Go home, Dad. Go home. Go home.FATHER: I'm sure he's a good worker but a typical teenager, if you know what I mean.MANAGER: (Losing interest) I wouldn't know.FATHER: He's a good boy. And I assure you that if there are any subjects that need to be addressed, Sean and I will have a man-to-man talk.MANAGER: I don't think that will be necessary...FATHER: Oh, no problem. I'm proud of my son. Very, very proud. And I just wanted you to know that I'll do anything I can to help him through life's dangerous sea.SEAN: (Standing up and screaming) Aaaargh! Aaaargh! Aaaaaaargh!FATHER: Son, I didn't know you were here.SEAN: It's where I work, Dad.FATHER: Of course. I mean, I didn't see you.SEAN: I can't imagine why.FATHER: Your manager and I were just having a nice chat.(DIANE enters Down Left just as HEIDI enters Down Right. They look at SEAN and FATHER.)SEAN, DIANE, HEIDI: (In unison) Father, you know better than that.(The lights quickly fade to black and then come up a second or two later. SEAN stands alone at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and DIANE cross to Down Left edge of the stage.)SEAN: If that sort of thing happened only once in a while, it wouldn't be so bad. Overall, I wouldn't want to trade my dad for anyone else's. He loves us kids and Mom too. But I think that's sometimes the problem. He wants to do things for us, things he thinks are good. But he needs to give them more thought because:SEAN, HEIDI and DIANE: (In unison) Father knows better!(The lights fade to black and come up on the Center Stage area where FATHER and the three children are seated around the dining room table. MOTHER enters carrying a dish, which she sets on the table. FATHER quickly rises and pulls out her chair. She sits. The family starts eating dinner.)FATHER: I have a surprise for you, Diane.DIANE: (Knows it can't be good.) You have... a surprise?MOTHER: Well, whatever it is, dear, don't keep us in suspense.FATHER: Well, you know, Dan Lucas and I work together?DIANE: Kyle's father?MOTHER: Don't interrupt, dear, your father is trying to tell you something.HEIDI: (Stage whisper to SEAN) Something Diane won't want to know, I'll bet.SEAN: (Whispering to HEIDI) Whatever would make you think that?MOTHER: Sean, dear. Heidi, sweetheart, don't distract your father.SEAN and HEIDI: (Simultaneously) Sorry, Mom.FATHER: Now then. As I was saying, I know how much you like young Kyle.DIANE: Father!FATHER: It's true, isn't it? Didn't I hear you tell your mother that you wish Kyle would ask you to the senior prom?SEAN: Uh-oh!HEIDI: Oops!MOTHER: Please, children, please. Your father is trying to speak.DIANE: (Through clenched teeth, the words are in a monotone and evenly spaced.) Yes-I-said-that-why-are-you-asking?FATHER: Well then.DIANE: (Becoming hysterical) "Well then" what?!FATHER: What did I say? Did I say something wrong?HEIDI: (To SEAN) Not yet, he didn't.SEAN: (To HEIDI) But you know it's coming.MOTHER: Children, please. Do give your father the respect he deserves.HEIDI and SEAN: (Rolling their eyes) Yes, Mother.FATHER: Well, today I saw Dan and asked if he'd like to go to lunch at that French restaurant on Third Street. You know the one, Mother.MOTHER: Well, yes, I believe I do.FATHER: My treat, I told him. And, of course, he was glad to accept.MOTHER: Why wouldn't he be?FATHER: (Somewhat surprised) Well, yes.DIANE: What-has-this-to-do-with me?!MOTHER: Diane, sometimes I just don't understand your behavior. I try my best.DIANE: (Very short with her) I'm sorry.MOTHER: Thank you, Diane. (To FATHER) Please do go on, dear.FATHER: As I said —HEIDI: We know what you said, Daddy.FATHER: Er... uh, what's that?SEAN: She said, "We know what you said, Daddy."FATHER: Yes, yes, of course.MOTHER: Do get on with it, dear. I've made the most glorious dessert. An old recipe handed down to me by my great Aunt Hilda —DIANE: Mother, please!MOTHER: Yes, dear?(DIANE shakes her head and lets her body fall against the back of the chair.)FATHER: At any rate, Dan's a nice guy. Never knew him well. Found we have a lot of the same interests. Our families, our community, global peace, human welfare.HEIDI: (Mumbling to herself) That narrows it down, all right.SEAN: Father?FATHER: Yes, son?SEAN: I do believe Diane would like to know the surprise.DIANE: (Breathing hard as if exhausted, she turns to SEAN, nodding her head up and down repeatedly.) Thank you, Sean. I owe you one.FATHER: Well, yes. Here it is then. I told Dan of your interest in his son.DIANE: You what?MOTHER: Diane, what has come over you? I just don't understand the younger generation. Why back in my day —DIANE: Mother, please!MOTHER: What, what? What?HEIDI: Mother, I believe she wants Father to continue.SEAN: (To himself) Get this over with, more likely.DIANE: Daddy, please, tell me. Now. Right away. What did you say, Daddy? Please. Tell me, what did you tell Mr. Lucas? Tell me, please. Please, tell me.FATHER: Well, now, isn't this nice. It looks like my little scheme is a success. You're so eager to find out... makes a man feel as if it's all worthwhile.HEIDI: (To SEAN) Can you believe this?SEAN: (To HEIDI) Oh, sure. Can't you?FATHER: Yes, well, I told him how much you liked young Kyle, and how you'd been wishing he'd ask you to the prom.DIANE: You didn't! Tell me you didn't!FATHER: Oh, yes. Anything for my children.DIANE: (Swallowing hard) And... and —MOTHER: Diane, are you all right?DIANE: (She juts out her chin at MOTHER and quickly jerks her head around to face FATHER.) Well... what did he say?!FATHER: Well, of course, being the sort of man he is — frank, understanding, he said he'd speak to the young man, insist he give you a call.DIANE: (Angry scream!) Whaaaaaat!SEAN and HEIDI: (Together) Father, you know better than that.FATHER: I do? Yes, yes, I guess I do. I've... done it again, haven't I?(The lights quickly fade to black and then come up a second or two later. DIANE stands alone at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and SEAN enter Down Left and cross to the edge of the stage.)DIANE: Can you imagine how humiliated I was? An honor student, class president. And Father was out asking people to have their sons call and ask me to the prom! But that's dear old dad. Actually, he is a dear. He just doesn't stop to think. And it's not just one of us who've felt the heavy hand of interference. Oh, no, all three of us live in constant dread knowing that at any timedisaster can strike because:DIANE, HEIDI and SEAN: (Shouting in unison) Father knows better.(The lights fade to black and quickly come up again Stage Left where there is an executive-type desk and chair and two other chairs. Behind the desk sits MRS. HIGGINS, in charge of admitting new students to Benjamin Harrison High School. HEIDI and FATHER sit in the other chairs.)MRS. HIGGINS: So this is our new student, is it?FATHER: That's right.MRS. HIGGINS: What's your name, young lady?HEIDI: HEIDI Thompson.MRS. HIGGINS: I'm sure you'll find the students friendly. And the teachers more than willing to answer questions.FATHER: She is an exceptional young woman, you know.HEIDI: Daddy!FATHER: Very, very bright.MRS. HIGGINS: Yes, now if we can get you to fill out —FATHER: Don't know where she got her brains. Her mother, I suppose. Oh, I was bright enough. But nothing like HEIDI. All her teachers have told Mrs. Thompson — that's her mother — and me that she was just about the brightest —MRS. HIGGINS: (Interrupts as she loses her patience, though trying to be pleasant) As I said, if you have proof of vaccinations —FATHER: (Interrupts, carrying on with his line of thought) Besides being bright, she's very, very talented.HEIDI: (Twists her hands over and over in front of her chest.) Please, Daddy, don't do this.FATHER: Well, of course I will, darling. I'm proud of you. Your mother and I are proud of you. (Turns back to MRS.HIGGINS.) Why just last year, in her last year of junior high school, before we moved, Heidi placed first in the county in the annual spelling bee! Isn't that wonderful? And she plays the piano like an angel. An absolute angel.HEIDI: Daddy, please. Please, please. Daddy, I have to go to class. I want to go to class. Please let me go to class.FATHER: See what I mean? Such an eager learner. I can't imagine anyone's being more eager for knowledge than my Heidi. My little girl.MRS. HIGGINS: Yes, well, be that as it may —HEIDI: Aaargh! Aaaaargh! Aaaargh!(DIANE and SEAN enter Down Right. They look at HEIDI, FATHER, and MRS. HIGGINS.)HEIDI, DIANE and SEAN: (Shouting in unison) Daddy, you know better than that!FATHER: Er, uh, I do?(Curtain)(1912 words)Unit 4 Text A A Virtual LifeText 课文Part I Pre-reading TaskListen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:1. Is the hero a student or an employee?2. What was he doing when the boss came in?3. How did he act in front of his boss?4. Can you guess what the texts in this unit are going to be about?The following words in the recording may be new to you:surfvt. （在网上）漫游log onto进入（计算机系统）unpredictablea. 不可预测的Part II Text AMaia Szalavitz, formerly a television producer, now spends her time as a writer. In this essay she explores digital reality and its consequences. Along the way, she compares the digital world to the "real" world, acknowledging the attractions of the electronic dimension.A VIRTUAL LIFEMaia SzalavitzAfter too long on the Net, even a phone call can be a shock. My boyfriend's Liverpool accent suddenly becomes impossible to interpret after his easily understood words on screen; a secretary's clipped tone seems more rejecting than I'd imagined it would be. Time itself becomes fluid —hours become minutes, or seconds stretch into days. Weekends, once a highlight of my week, are now just two ordinary days.For the last three years, since I stopped working as a television producer, I have done much of my work as a telecommuter. I submit articles and edit them via email and communicate with colleagues on Internet mailing lists. My boyfriend lives in England, so much of our relationship is also computer-assisted.If I desired, I could stay inside for weeks without wanting anything. I can order food, and manage my money, love and work. In fact, at times I have spent as long as three weeks alone at home, going out only to get mail and buy newspapers and groceries. I watched most of the endless snowstorm of'96 on TV.But after a while, life itself begins to feel unreal. I start to feel as though I've become one with my machines, taking data in, spitting them back out, just another link in the Net. Others on line report the same symptoms. We start to feel an aversion to outside forms of socializing. We have become the Net critics' worst nightmare.What first seemed like a luxury, crawling from bed to computer, not worrying about hair, and clothes and face, has become a form of escape, a lack of discipline. And once you start replacing real human contact with cyber-interaction, coming back out of the cave can be quite difficult.。

全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程2课文背诵段落原文及翻译

我们两种文化的差异也可以从我们各自所怀的忧虑中显示出来。

中国老师担心，如果年轻人不及早掌握技艺，就有可能一辈子掌握不了；另一方面，他们并不同样地急于促进创造力的发展。

美国教育工作者则担心，除非从一开始就发展创造力，不然创造力就有可能永不再现；而另一方面，技艺可于日后获得。

全新版大学英语（第二版）综合教程3课文原文及翻译Until1-6

unit 1 Mr. Doher‎t y Build‎s His Dream‎LifeMr. Doher‎t y Build‎s His Dream‎LifeJim Doher‎t y1 There‎are two thing‎s I have alway‎s wante‎d to do -- write‎and live on a farm. Today‎I'm doing‎both. I am not in E. B. White‎'s class‎as a write‎r or in my neigh‎b ors' leagu‎e as a farme‎r, but I'm getti‎n g by. And after‎years‎of frust‎r atio‎n with city and subur‎b an livin‎g, my wife Sandy‎and I have final‎l y found‎conte‎n tmen‎t here in the count‎r y.多尔蒂先生‎创建自己的‎理想生活吉姆·多尔蒂有两件事是‎我一直想做‎的――写作与务农‎。

如今我同时‎做着这两件‎事。

作为作家，我和E·B·怀特不属同‎一等级，作为农场主‎，我和乡邻也‎不是同一类‎人，不过我应付‎得还行。

在城市以及‎郊区历经多‎年的怅惘失‎望之后，我和妻子桑‎迪终于在这‎里的乡村寻‎觅到心灵的‎满足。

2 It's a self-relia‎n t sort of life. We grow nearl‎y all of our fruit‎s and veget‎a bles‎. Our hens keep us in eggs, with sever‎a l dozen‎left over to sell each week. Our bees provi‎d e us with honey‎, and we cut enoug‎h wood to just about‎make it throu‎g h the heati‎n g seaso‎n.这是一种自‎力更生的生‎活。

全新大学英语综合教程第二课文原文单元

全新版大学英语综合教程第二版课文原文(--单元)————————————————————————————————作者：————————————————————————————————日期：Unit 1The idea of becoming a writer had come to me off and on since my childhood in Belleville, but it wasn't until my third year in high school that the possibility took hold. Until then I'd been bored by everything associated with English courses. I found English grammar dull and difficult. I hated the assignments to turn out long, lifeless paragraphs that were agony for teachers to read and for me to write.When our class was assigned to Mr. Fleagle for third-year English I anticipated another cheerless year in that most tedious of subjects. Mr. Fleagle had a reputation among students for dullness and inability to inspire. He was said to be very formal, rigid and hopelessly out of date. To me he looked to be sixty or seventy and excessively prim. He wore primly severe eyeglasses, his wavy hair was primly cut and primly combed. He wore prim suits with neckties set primly against the collar buttons of his white shirts. He had a primly pointed jaw, a primly straight nose, and a prim manner of speaking that was so correct, so gentlemanly, that he seemed a comic antique.I prepared for an unfruitful year with Mr. Fleagle and for a long time was not disappointed. Late in the year we tackled theinformal essay. Mr. Fleagle distributed a homework sheet offering us a choice of topics. None was quite so simple-minded as "What I Did on My Summer Vacation," but most seemed to be almost as dull. I took the list home and did nothing until the night before the essay was due. Lying on the sofa, I finally faced up to the unwelcome task, took the list out of my notebook, and scanned it. The topic on which my eye stopped was "The Art of Eating Spaghetti."This title produced an extraordinary sequence of mental images. Vivid memories came flooding back of a night in Belleville when all of us were seated around the supper table —Uncle Allen, my mother, Uncle Charlie, Doris, Uncle Hal — and Aunt Pat served spaghetti for supper. Spaghetti was still a little known foreign dish in those days. Neither Doris nor I had ever eaten spaghetti, and none of the adults had enough experience to be good at it. All the good humor of Uncle Allen's house reawoke in my mind as I recalled the laughing arguments we had that night about the socially respectable method for moving spaghetti from plate to mouth.Suddenly I wanted to write about that, about the warmth and good feeling of it, but I wanted to put it down simply for my own joy, not for Mr. Fleagle. It was a moment I wanted torecapture and hold for myself. I wanted to relive the pleasure of that evening. To write it as I wanted, however, would violate all the rules of formal composition I'd learned in school, and Mr. Fleagle would surely give it a failing grade. Never mind. I would write something else for Mr. Fleagle after I had written this thing for myself.When I finished it the night was half gone and there was no time left to compose a proper, respectable essay for Mr. Fleagle. There was no choice next morning but to turn in my tale of the Belleville supper. Two days passed before Mr. Fleagle returned the graded papers, and he returned everyone's but mine. I was preparing myself for a command to report to Mr. Fleagle immediately after school for discipline when I saw him lift my paper from his desk and knock for the class's attention. "Now, boys," he said. "I want to read you an essay. This is titled, 'The Art of Eating Spaghetti.'"And he started to read. My words! He was reading my words out loud to the entire class. What's more, the entire class was listening. Listening attentively. Then somebody laughed, then the entire class was laughing, and not in contempt and ridicule, but with open-hearted enjoyment. Even Mr. Fleagle stopped two or three times to hold back a small prim smile.I did my best to avoid showing pleasure, but what I was feeling was pure delight at this demonstration that my words had the power to make people laugh. In the eleventh grade, at the eleventh hour as it were, I had discovered a calling. It was the happiest moment of my entire school career. When Mr. Fleagle finished he put the final seal on my happiness by saying, "Now that, boys, is an essay, don't you see. It's — don't you see — it's of the very essence of the essay, don't you see. Congratulations, Mr. Baker."(797 words)Unit 2He must have been completely lost in something he was reading because I had to tap on the windshield to get his attention."Is your cab available?" I asked when he finally looked up at me. He nodded, then said apologetically as I settled into the back seat, "I'm sorry, but I was reading a letter." He sounded as if he had a cold or something."I'm in no hurry," I told him. "Go ahead and finish your letter." He shook his head. "I've read it several times already. I guess I almost know it by heart.""Letters from home always mean a lot," I said. "At least they do with me because I'm on the road so much." Then, estimating thathe was 60 or 70 years old, I guessed: "From a child or maybe a grandchild?""This isn't family," he replied. "Although," he went on, "come to think of it", it might just as well have been family. Old Ed was my oldest friend. In fact, we used to call each other 'Old Friend' — when we'd meet, that is. I'm not much of a hand at writing." "I don't think any of us keep up our correspondence too well," I said. "I know I don't. But I take it he's someone you've known quite a while?""All my life, practically. We were kids together, so we go way back.""Went to school together?""All the way through high school. We were in the same class, in fact, through both grade and high school.""There are not too many people who've had such a long friendship," I said."Actually," the driver went on, "I hadn't seen him more than once or twice a year over the past 25 or 30 years because I moved away from the old neighborhood and you kind of lose touch even though you never forget. He was a great guy." "You said 'was'. Does that mean —?"He nodded. "Died a couple of weeks ago.""I'm sorry," I said. "It's no fun to lose any friend — and losing a real old one is even tougher."He didn't reply to that, and we rode on in silence for a few minutes. But I realized that Old Ed was still on his mind when he spoke again, almost more to himself than to me: "I should have kept in touch. Yes," he repeated, "I should have kept in touch.""Well," I agreed, "we should all keep in touch with old friends more than we do. But things come up and we just don't seem to find the time."He shrugged. "We used to find the time," he said. "That's even mentioned in the letter." He handed it over to me. "Take a look." "Thanks," I said, "but I don't want to read your mail. That's pretty personal."The driver shrugged. "Old Ed's dead. There's nothing personal now. Go ahead," he urged me.The letter was written in pencil. It began with the greeting "Old Friend," and the first sentence reminded me of myself. I've been meaning to write for some time, but I've always postponed it. It then went on to say that he often thought about the good times they had had together when they both lived in the sameneighborhood. It had references to things that probably meant something to the driver, such as the time Tim Shea broke the window, the Halloween that we tied Old Mr. Parker's gate, and when Mrs. Culver used to keep us after school."You must have spent a lot of time together," I said to him. "Like it says there," he answered, "about all we had to spend in those days was time." He shook his head: "Time."I thought the next paragraph of the letter was a little sad: I began the letter with "Old Friend" because that's what we've become over the years — old friends. And there aren't many of us left. "You know," I said to him, "when it says here that there aren't many of us left, that's absolutely right. Every time I go to a class reunion, for example, there are fewer and fewer still around." "Time goes by," the driver said."Did you two work at the same place?" I asked him."No, but we hung out on the same corner when we were single. And then, when we were married, we used to go to each other's house every now and then. But for the last 20 or 30 years it's been mostly just Christmas cards. Of course there'd be always a note we'd each add to the cards — usually some news about our families, you know, what the kids were doing, who moved where, a new grandchild, things like that —but never a realletter or anything like that.""This is a good part here," I said. "Where it says Your friendship over the years has meant an awful lot to me, more than I can say because I'm not good at saying things like that. " I found myself nodding in agreement. "That must have made you feel good, didn't it?"The driver said something that I couldn't understand because he seemed to be all choked up, so I continued: "I know I'd like to receive a letter like that from my oldest friend."We were getting close to our destination so I skipped to the last paragraph. So I thought you'd like to know that I was thinking of you. And it was signed，Your Old Friend, Tom.I handed back the letter as we stopped at my hotel. "Enjoyed talking with you," I said as I took my suitcase out of the cab. Tom? The letter was signed Tom?"I thought your friend's name was Ed," I said. "Why did he sign it Tom?""The letter was not from Ed to me," he explained. "I'm Tom. It's a letter I wrote to him before I knew he'd died. So I never mailed it."He looked sort of sorrowful, or as if he were trying to see something in the distance. "I guess I should have written itsooner."When I got to my hotel room I didn't unpack right away. First I had to write a letter — and mail it.(1093 words)Unit 3Whether we like it or not, the world we live in has changed a great deal in the last hundred years, and it is likely to change even more in the next hundred. Some people would like to stop these changes and go back to what they see as a purer and simpler age. But as history shows, the past was not that wonderful. It was not so bad for a privileged minority, though even they had to do without modern medicine, and childbirth was highly risky for women. But for the vast majority of the population, life was nasty, brutish, and short.Anyway, even if one wanted to, one couldn't put the clock back to an earlier age. Knowledge and techniques can't just be forgotten. Nor can one prevent further advances in the future. Even if all government money for research were cut off (and the present government is doing its best), the force of competition would still bring about advances in technology. Moreover, one cannot stop inquiring minds from thinking about basic science, whether or not they are paid for it. The only way to preventfurther developments would be a global state that suppressed anything new, and human initiative and inventiveness are such that even this wouldn't succeed. All it would do is slow down the rate of change.If we accept that we cannot prevent science and technology from changing our world, we can at least try to ensure that the changes they make are in the right directions. In a democratic society, this means that the public needs to have a basic understanding of science, so that it can make informed decisions and not leave them in the hands of experts. At the moment, the public is in two minds about science. It has come to expect the steady increase in the standard of living that new developments in science and technology have brought to continue, but it also distrusts science because it doesn't understand it. This distrust is evident in the cartoon figure of the mad scientist working in his laboratory to produce a Frankenstein. It is also an important element behind support for the Green parties. But the public also has a great interest in science, particularly astronomy, as is shown by the large audiences for television series such as The Sky at Night and for science fiction.What can be done to harness this interest and give the public the scientific background it needs to make informed decisions onsubjects like acid rain, the greenhouse effect, nuclear weapons, and genetic engineering? Clearly, the basis must lie in what is taught in schools. But in schools science is often presented in a dry and uninteresting manner. Children learn it by rote to pass examinations, and they don't see its relevance to the world around them. Moreover, science is often taught in terms of equations. Although equations are a brief and accurate way of describing mathematical ideas, they frighten most people. When I wrote a popular book recently, I was advised that each equation I included would halve the sales. I included one equation, Einstein's famous equation, E=mc2. Maybe I would have sold twice as many copies without it.Scientists and engineers tend to express their ideas in the form of equations because they need to know the precise values of quantities. But for the rest of us, a qualitative grasp of scientific concepts is sufficient, and this can be conveyed by words and diagrams, without the use of equations.The science people learn in school can provide the basic framework. But the rate of scientific progress is now so rapid that there are always new developments that have occurred since one was at school or university. I never learned about molecular biology or transistors at school, but genetic engineering andcomputers are two of the developments most likely to change the way we live in the future. Popular books and magazine articles about science can help to put across new developments, but even the most successful popular book is read by only a small proportion of the population. Only television can reach a truly mass audience. There are some very good science programmes on TV, but others present scientific wonders simply as magic, without explaining them or showing how they fit into the framework of scientific ideas. Producers of television science programmes should realize that they have a responsibility to educate the public, not just entertain it.The world today is filled with dangers, hence the sick joke that the reason we have not been contacted by an alien civilization is that civilizations tend to destroy themselves when they reach our stage. But I have sufficient faith in the good sense of the public to believe that we might prove this wrong.(812 words)Unit 4He came from a rocky farm in Italy, somewhere south of Rome. How or when he got to America, I don't know. But one evening I found him standing in the driveway, behind my garage. He was about five-foot-seven or eight, and thin."I mow your lawn," he said. It was hard to comprehend his broken English.I asked him his name. "Tony Trivisonno," he replied. "I mow your lawn." I told Tony that I couldn't afford a gardener."I mow your lawn," he said again, then walked away. I went into my house unhappy. Yes, these Depression days were difficult, but how could I to turn away a person who had come to me for help?When I got home from work the next evening, the lawn had been mowed, the garden weeded, and the walks swept. I asked my wife what had happened."A man got the lawn mower out of the garage and worked on the yard," she answered. "I assumed you had hired him."I told her of my experience the night before. We thought it strange that he had not asked for pay.The next two days were busy, and I forgot about Tony. We were trying to rebuild our business and bring some of our workers back to the plants. But on Friday, returning home a little early, I saw Tony again, behind the garage. I complimented him on the work he had done."I mow your lawn," he said.I managed to work out some kind of small weekly pay, and eachday Tony cleaned up the yard and took care of any little tasks. My wife said he was very helpful whenever there were any heavy objects to lift or things to fix.Summer passed into fall, and winds blew cold. "Mr. Craw, snow pretty soon," Tony told me one evening. "When winter come, you give me job clearing snow at the factory."Well, what do you do with such determination and hope? Of course, Tony got his job at the factory.The months passed. I asked the personnel department for a report. They said Tony was a very good worker.One day I found Tony at our meeting place behind the garage. "I want to be 'prentice," he said.We had a pretty good apprentice school that trained laborers. But I doubted whether Tony had the capacity to read blueprints and micrometers or do precision work. Still, how could I turn him down?Tony took a cut in pay to become an apprentice. Months later, I got a report that he had graduated as a skilled grinder. He had learned to read the millionths of an inch on the micrometer and to shape the grinding wheel with an instrument set with a diamond. My wife and I were delighted with what we felt was a satisfying end of the story.A year or two passed, and again I found Tony in his usual waiting place. We talked about his work, and I asked him what he wanted."Mr. Craw," he said, "I like a buy a house." On the edge of town, he had found a house for sale, a complete wreck.I called on a banker friend. "Do you ever loan money on character?" I asked. "No," he said. "We can't afford to. No sale." "Now, wait a minute," I replied. "Here is a hard-working man, a man of character, I can promise you that. He's got a good job. You're not getting a damn thing from your lot. It will stay there for years. At least he will pay your interest."Reluctantly, the banker wrote a mortgage for $2,000 and gave Tony the house with no down payment. Tony was delighted. From then on, it was interesting to see that any discarded odds and ends around our place — a broken screen, a bit of hardware, boards from packing — Tony would gather and take home. After about two years, I found Tony in our familiar meeting spot. He seemed to stand a little straighter. He was heavier. He had a look of confidence."Mr. Craw, I sell my house!" he said with pride. "I got $8,000."I was amazed. "But, Tony, where are you going to live without a house?""Mr. Craw, I buy a farm."We sat down and talked. Tony told me that to own a farm was his dream. He loved the tomatoes and peppers and all the other vegetables important to his Italian diet. He had sent for his wife and son and daughter back in Italy. He had hunted around the edge of town until he found a small, abandoned piece of property with a house and shed. Now he was moving his family to his farm.Sometime later. Tony arrived on a Sunday afternoon, neatly dressed. He had another Italian man with him. He told me that he had persuaded his childhood friend to move to America. Tony was sponsoring him. With an amused look in his eye, he told me that when they approached the little farm he now operated, his friend stood in amazement and said, "Tony, you are a millionaire!"Then, during the war, a message came from my company. Tony had passed away.I asked our people to check on his family and see that everything was properly handled. They found the farm green with vegetables, the little house livable and homey. There was a tractor and a good car in the yard. The children were educated and working, and Tony didn't owe a cent.After he passed away, I thought more and more about Tony's career. He grew in stature in my mind. In the end, I think he stood as tall, and as proud, as the greatest American industrialists.They had all reached their success by the same route and by the same values and principles: vision, determination, self-control, optimism, self-respect and, above all, integrity.Tony did not begin on the bottom rung of the ladder. He began in the basement. Tony's affairs were tiny; the greatest industrialists' affairs were giant. But, after all, the balance sheets were exactly the same. The only difference was where you put the decimal point.Tony Trivisonno came to America seeking the American Dream. But he didn't find it — he created it for himself. All he had were 24 precious hours a day, and he wasted none of them.(1110 words)。

全新版大学英语综合教程2课文原文及翻译

Unit1Howard Gardner, a professor of education at Harvard University, reflects on a visit to China and gives his thoughts on different approaches to learning in China and the West.哈佛大学教育学教授霍华德·加德纳回忆其中国之行，阐述他对中西方不同的学习方式的看法。

然而，我和埃伦获得的有关中美教育观念差异的最难忘的体验并非来自课堂，而是来自我们在南京期间寓居的金陵饭店的大堂。

全新版大学英语综合教程2课文原文及翻译.pdf

One way of summarizing the American position is to state that we value originality and independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers are fearful that if skills are not acquired early, they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity. American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on the other hand, skills can be picked up later.However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon).But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and creativity are both worthwhile goals, the important question becomes this: Can we gather, from the Chinese and American extremes, a superior way to approach education, perhaps striking a better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?Walton set up a college scholarship fund for employees' children, a disaster relief fund to rebuild employee homes damaged by fires, floods, tornadoes, and the like. He believed in cultivating ideas and rewarding success."He'd say, 'That fellow worked hard, let's give him a little extra,'" recalls retired president Ferold F. Arend, who was stunned at such generosity after the stingy employer he left to join Wal-Mart. "I had to change my way of thinking when I came aboard.""The reason for our success," says Walton, in a company handout, "is our people and the way they're treated and the way they feel about their company. They believe things are different here, but they deserve the credit."Adds company lawyer Jim Hendren: "I've never seen anyone yet who worked for him or was around him for any length of time who wasn't better off. And I don't mean just financially, although a lot of people are. It's just something about him -- coming into contact with Sam Walton just makes you a better person."Making the journey from log cabin to White House is part of the American Dream. But when Jimmy Carter was defeated in his attempt to gain a second term as President of the United States he found himself suddenly thrown out of the White House and back in his log cabin. This is how he coped.SEAN: If that sort of thing happened only once in a while, it wouldn't be so bad. Overall, I wouldn't want to trade my dad for anyone else's. He loves us kids and Mom too. But I think that's sometimes the problem. He wants to do things for us, things he thinks are good. But he needs to give them more thought because:SEAN, HEIDI and DIANE: (In unison) Father knows better!(The lights quickly fade to black and then come up a second or two later. DIANE stands alone at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and SEAN enter Down Left and cross to the edge of the stage. )DIANE: Can you imagine how humiliated I was? An honor student, class president. And Father was out asking people to have their sons call and ask me to the prom! But that's dear old dad. Actually, he is a dear. He just doesn't stop to think. And it's not just one of us who've felt the heavy hand of interference. Oh, no, all three of us live in constant dread knowing that at any time disaster can strike because: Father knows better.I'd never realized how important daily routine is: dressing for work, sleeping normal hours. I'd never thought I relied so much on co-workers for company. I began to understand why long-term unemployment can be so damaging, why life without an externally supported daily plan can lead to higher rates of drug abuse, crime, suicide.To restore balance to my life, I force myself back into the real world. I call people, arrange to meet with the few remaining friends who haven't fled New York City. I try to at least get to the gym, so as to set apart the weekend from the rest of my week. I arrange interviews for stories, doctor's appointments -- anything to get me out of the house and connected with others.But sometimes being face to face is too much. I see a friend and her ringing laughter is intolerable -- the noise of conversation in the restaurant, unbearable. I make my excuses and flee. I re-enter my apartment and run to the computer as though it were a place of safety.I click on the modem, the once-annoying sound of the connection now as pleasant as my favorite tune. I enter my password. The real world disappears.Thought you were safe sharing secrets with Internet friends? Wait for the doorbell...The runway felt different this time. It startled him for a brief moment. Then it all hit him like a wet bale of hay. The bar was set at nine inches higher than his personal best. That's only one inch off the National record, he thought. The intensity of the moment filled his mind with anxiety. He began shaking the tension. It wasn't working. He became more tense. Why was this happening to him now, he thought. He began to get nervous. Afraid would be a more accurate description. What was he going to do? He had never experienced these feelings. Then out of nowhere, and from the deepest depths of his soul, he pictured his mother. Why now? What was his mother doing in his thoughts at a time like this? It was simple. His mother always used to tell him when you felt tense, anxious or even scared, take deep breaths.So he did. Along with shaking the tension from his legs, he gently laid his pole at his feet. He began to stretch out his arms and upper body. The light breeze that was once there was now gone. He carefully picked up his pole. He felt his heart pounding. He was sure the crowd did, too. The silence was deafening. When he heard the singing of some distant birds in flight, he knew it was his time to fly.Racing the clock every day is such an exhausting effort that when I actually have a few free moments, I tend to collapse. Mostly I sink into a chair and stare into space while I imagine how lovely life would be if only I possessed the organizational skills and the energy of my superheroines. In fact, I waste a good deal of my spare time just worrying about what other women are accomplishing in theirs. Sometimes I think that these modern fairy tales create as many problems for women as the old stories that had us biding our time for the day our prince would come.Yet superwomen tales continue to charm me. Despite my friend's warning against being taken in, despite everything I've learned, I find that I'm not only willing, but positively eager to buy that bridge she mentioned. Why? I suppose it has something to do with the appeal of an optimistic approach to life -- and the fact that extraordinary deeds have been accomplished by determined individuals who refused to believe that "you can't" was the final word on their dreams.Men have generally been assured that achieving their heart's desires would be a piece of cake. Women, of course, have always believed that we can't have our cake and eat it too-the old low-dream diet. Perhaps becoming a superwoman is an impossible dream for me, but life without that kind of fantasy is as unappealing as a diet with no treats.1) The young woman described to the policemen the way the man ran up to her and grabbed the bag from her hand. 2) All the people working for Sam Walton admire the way he manages Wal-Mart and the way he treats his employees. 3) The neighbors were disgusted at the way he talked to his old father.4) It's amazing the way the eight-year-old boy managed to stay so calm when he faced the emergency.1. You will find yourself penniless in a month.2. He found himself lying in a hospital ward.3. She found herself faced with the toughest job she had ever taken.4. Susan found herself in a trap from which she could not escape.1) Obviously what the speaker wanted to emphasize was the impact of these findings rather than the process that led to these findings.2) It seems that he is never bothered about what people would think about his behavior.3) The CEO never hesitates to let his employees know what he is planning for the company.4) The scientist will show the audience what a tele-operated robot can do for a family.5)Despite all this she manages to get her act together.1、She herself believed in freedom,so much so that she would rather die than live without it.2、Assuming the proposal is accepted,where are we going to get the money?3、Only by rewarding success can you bring out the best in your employess.4、It’s amazing the eight-year-old boy managed to stay so calm when he faced the emergency.5、Allen should have known better than to lend such a large sum of money to that untrustworthy cousin of his.。

《全新版大学英语第2版综合教程》Unit1TextA课文文本

《全新版大学英语第2版综合教程》Unit1TextA课文文本《全新版大学英语综合教程》Book 4Unit 1 Text AThe Icy DefenderNila B. Smith 1In 1812, Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French, led his Grand Army into Russia. He was prepared for the fierce resistance of the Russian people defending their homeland. He was prepared for the long march across Russian soil to Moscow, the capital city. But he was not prepared for the devastating enemy that met him in Moscow — the raw, bitter, bleak Russian winter.2In 1941, Adolf Hitler, leader of Nazi Germany, launched an attack against the Soviet Unio n, as Russia then was called. Hitler’s military might was unequaled. His war machine had mowed down resistance in most of Europe. Hitler expected a short campaign but, like Napoleon before him, was taught a painful lesson. The Russian winter again came to the aid of the Soviet soldiers.Napoleon’s Campaign3In the spring of 1812, Napoleon assembled an army of six hundred thousand men on the borders of Russia. The soldiers were well trained, efficient, and well equipped. This military force was called the Grand Army. Napoleon, confident of a quick victory, predicted the conquest of Russia in five weeks.4Shortly afterwards, Napoleon’s army c rossed the Neman River into Russia. The quick, decisive victory that Napoleon expected never happened. To his surprise, the Russians refused to stand and fight. Instead, they retreated eastward, burning their crops and homes as they went. The Grand Army followed, but itsadvance march soon became bogged down by slow-moving supply lines.5In August, the French and Russian armies engaged at Smolensk, in a battle that left over ten thousand dead on each side. Yet, the Russians were again able to retreat farther into Russian territory. Napoleon had won no decisive victory. He was now faced with a crucial decision. Should he continue to pursue the Russian army? Or should he keep his army in Smolensk for the approaching winter?6Napoleon took the gamble of pressing on to Moscow, 448 kilometers away. On September 7, 1812, the French and Russian armies met in a fierce battle at Borodino, 112 kilometers west of Moscow. By nightfall, thirty thousand French and forty-four thousand Russians lay dead or wounded on the battlefield.7Again, the Russian army retreated to safety. Napoleon had a clear path to Moscow, but the occupation of the city became an empty victory. The Russians fled their capital. Soon after the French arrived, a raging fire destroyed two-thirds of the city. Napoleon offered a truce to Alexander I, but the Russian czar knew he could bide his time: “We shall let the Russian winter fight the war for us.”8Napoleon soon realized he could not feed, clothe, and quarter his army in Moscow during the winter. In October 1812, he ordered his Grand Army to retreatfrom Moscow.9The French retreat turned into a nightmare. From fields and forests, the Russians launched hit-and-run attacks on the French.A short distance from Moscow, the temperature had already dropped to minus 4 degrees Celsius. On November 3, the winter’s first snow came. Exhaus ted horses fell dead in theirtracks. Cannon became stuck in the snow. Equipment had to be burned for fuel. Soldiers took ill and froze to death. The French soldiers dragged on, leaving the dead along every mile.10As the Russian army was gathering its strength, the French had to flee Russia to avoid certain defeat. At the Berezina River, the Russians nearly trapped the retreating French by burning the bridges over the swollen river. But Napoleon, by a stroke of luck, was able to build two new bridges. Thousands of French soldiers escaped, but at the cost of fifty thousand dead. Once across the Berezina, the tattered survivors limped toward Vilna.11Of the six hundred thousand soldiers Napoleon had led into Russia, less than one hundred thousand came back. The weakened French army continued its retreat westward across Europe. Soon, Britain, Austria, Russia, and Prussia formed a powerful alliance and attacked these stragglers. In March 1814, Paris was captured. Napoleon abdicated and went into exile, his empire at an end.Hitler’s Invasion12By early 1941, Adolf Hitler, leader of Nazi Germany, had seized control of most of Europe. T o the east of Hitler’s German empire was the Soviet Union. On June 22, 1941, without a declaration of war, Hitler began an invasion of the Soviet Union that was the largest military land campaign in history. Confident of a quick victory, Hitler expected the campaign to last no longer than three months.He planned to use the blitzkrieg , or “lightning war,” tactics that had def eated the rest of Europe. The invasion had three broad thrusts: against Leningrad and Moscow and through the Ukraine.13Caught off guard by the invasion, Soviet leader Joseph Sta lin instructed the Russian people to “scorch the earth” infront of the Germ an invaders. Farms and factories were burned, destroyed, or rendered useless. During the first ten weeks of the invasion, the Germans pushed the front eastward, and the Russians suffered more than a million casualties.14In the north, the Germans closed in on Leningrad. Despite great suffering, however, the people of Leningrad refused to surrender. As the battle of Leningrad dragged on into winter, the city’s situation became despe rate. As food ran out, people died from hunger and disease. By the middle of the winter of 1941—1942, nearly four thousand people starved to death every day. Close to one million people died as a result of the siege.15In the center of Russia, Hitler’s goa l was the capture of Moscow. Because the Germans had anticipated a quick victory, they had made no plans for winter supplies. October arrived with heavy rains. “General Mud” slowed down the movement of the Germans’ lightning attack.16As Hitler’s armies dr ew closer and closer to Moscow, an early, severe wintersettled over the Soviet Union, the harshest in years. Temperatures dropped to minus 48 degrees Celsius. Heavy snows fell. The German soldiers, completely unprepared for the Russian winter, froze in their light summer uniforms. The German tanks lay buried in the heavy snowbanks. The Russian winter brought the German offensive to a halt.17By the summer of 1942, Hitler had launched two new offensives. In the south, the Germans captured Sevastopol. Hitler then pushed east to Stalingrad, a great industrial city that stretched for 48 kilometers along the V olga River. Despite great suffering, Soviet defenders refused to give up Stalingrad.18In November 1942, the Russians launched a counterattack.With little or no shelter from the winter cold in and around Stalingrad, German troops were further weakened by a lack of food and supplies. Not until January 1943 did the Germans give up their siege. Of the three hundred thousand Germans attacking Stalingrad, only ninety thousand starving soldiers were left. The loss of the battle for Stalingrad finally turned the tide against Hitler. The German victories were over, thanks in part to the Russian winter.19During 1943 and 1944, the Soviet armies pushed the German front back toward the west. In the north, the Red Army broke the three-year siege of Leningrad with a surprise attack on January 15, 1944. Within two weeks, the heroic survivors of Leningrad saw their invaders depart. By March 1944, the Ukraine farming region was again in Soviet hands. On May 9, 1944, Sevastopol was liberated from the Germans. The Russians were now heading for Berlin.20For Hitler, the invasion of the Soviet Union had turned into a military disaster. For the Russian people, it brought unspeakable suffering. The total Soviet dead in World War II reached almost 23 million.Russia’s Icy Defender21The elements of nature must be reckoned with in any military campaign. Napoleon and Hitler both underestimated the severity of the Russian winter. Snow, ice, and freezing temperatures took their toll on both invading armies. For the Russian people, the winter was an icy defender.。

全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程2课文背诵段落原文及翻译1-5单元完整版.doc

我们两种文化的差异也可以从我们各自所怀的忧虑中显示出来。

中国老师担心，如果年轻人不及早掌握技艺，就有可能一辈子掌握不了；另一方面，他们并不同样地急于促进创造力的发展。

美国教育工作者则担心，除非从一开始就发展创造力，不然创造力就有可能永不再现；而另一方面，技艺可于日后获得。

《全新版大学英语第2版综合教程》Unit 1 Text B 课文及译文

全新版大学英语综合教程第四册Unit 1 Text BWould nature be on the side of the Allied forces as they prepared to invade mainland Europe or would it favour the Germans? No one was certain.大自然会站在秣马厉兵准备进攻欧洲大陆的同盟国一方，还是会偏袒德国人？谁也说不准。

The Normandy Landings诺曼底登陆1. The largest and most ambitious military expedition in history was the invasion of Normandy in northern France by British, American and Canadian forces that took place in the summer of 1944. Even nature played a role.2.It took more than a year for military planners to orchestrate every movement of troops, artillery, ships and aircraft and to set everything in place for the move that was to open up a second front in Europe. This would liberate France and way for the final assault on Germany itself.历史上最大最具野心的军事远征是1944年夏天英国、美国和加拿大军队在法国北部发动的诺曼底入侵。

甚至自然也发挥了作用。

军事侵略家精心安排军队、大炮、船舰和飞机的每一步运作，将进军的一切准备就绪去翻开在欧洲的第二战线，这种准备花了一年多的时间。

全新版大学英语(第二版)综合教程1课文原文课文翻译

Unit 1 Growing UPPart Text A Writing for MyselfⅡWhen we are writing we are often told to keep our readers in mind, to shape what we say to fit their tastes and interests. But there is one reader in particular who should not be forgotten. Can you guess who? Russell Baker surprised himself and everyone else when he discovered the answer.我们写作时常常被告诫，脑子里要有读者，笔者所云一定要符合读者的口味和兴趣。

但有一位读者特别不该忘记。

你能猜出是谁吗？当拉塞尔·贝克找到这个问题的答案时，他自己和别人都感到大为惊讶。

Writing for MyselfRussell Baker1The idea of becoming a writer had come to me off and on since my childhood in Belleville, but it wasn't until my third year in high school that the possibility took hold. Until then I've been bored by everything associated with English courses. I found English grammar dull and difficult. I hated the assignments to turn out long, lifeless paragraphs that were agony for teachers to read and for me to write.为自己而写拉塞尔·贝克从孩提时代，我还住在贝尔维尔时，我的脑子里就断断续续地转着当作家的念头，但直等到我高中三年级，这一想法才有了实现的可能。

全新版大学英语综合教程1第二版课文原文(1--4单元)(汇编)

Unit 1The idea of becoming a writer had come to me off and on since my childhood in Belleville, but it wasn't until my third year in high school that the possibility took hold. Until then I'd been bored by everything associated with English courses. I found English grammar dull and difficult. I hated the assignments to turn out long, lifeless paragraphs that were agony for teachers to read and for me to write.When our class was assigned to Mr. Fleagle for third-year English I anticipated another cheerless year in that most tedious of subjects. Mr. Fleagle had a reputation among students for dullness and inability to inspire. He was said to be very formal, rigid and hopelessly out of date. To me he looked to be sixty or seventy and excessively prim. He wore primly severe eyeglasses, his wavy hair was primly cut and primly combed. He wore prim suits with neckties set primly against the collar buttons of his white shirts. He had a primly pointed jaw, a primly straight nose, and a prim manner of speaking that was so correct, so gentlemanly, that he seemed a comic antique.I prepared for an unfruitful year with Mr. Fleagle and for a long time was not disappointed. Late in the year we tackled theinformal essay. Mr. Fleagle distributed a homework sheet offering us a choice of topics. None was quite so simple-minded as "What I Did on My Summer Vacation," but most seemed to be almost as dull. I took the list home and did nothing until the night before the essay was due. Lying on the sofa, I finally faced up to the unwelcome task, took the list out of my notebook, and scanned it. The topic on which my eye stopped was "The Art of Eating Spaghetti."This title produced an extraordinary sequence of mental images. Vivid memories came flooding back of a night in Belleville when all of us were seated around the supper table —Uncle Allen, my mother, Uncle Charlie, Doris, Uncle Hal — and Aunt Pat served spaghetti for supper. Spaghetti was still a little known foreign dish in those days. Neither Doris nor I had ever eaten spaghetti, and none of the adults had enough experience to be good at it. All the good humor of Uncle Allen's house reawoke in my mind as I recalled the laughing arguments we had that night about the socially respectable method for moving spaghetti from plate to mouth.Suddenly I wanted to write about that, about the warmth and good feeling of it, but I wanted to put it down simply for my own joy, not for Mr. Fleagle. It was a moment I wanted torecapture and hold for myself. I wanted to relive the pleasure of that evening. To write it as I wanted, however, would violate all the rules of formal composition I'd learned in school, and Mr. Fleagle would surely give it a failing grade. Never mind. I would write something else for Mr. Fleagle after I had written this thing for myself.When I finished it the night was half gone and there was no time left to compose a proper, respectable essay for Mr. Fleagle. There was no choice next morning but to turn in my tale of the Belleville supper. Two days passed before Mr. Fleagle returned the graded papers, and he returned everyone's but mine. I was preparing myself for a command to report to Mr. Fleagle immediately after school for discipline when I saw him lift my paper from his desk and knock for the class's attention. "Now, boys," he said. "I want to read you an essay. This is titled, 'The Art of Eating Spaghetti.'"And he started to read. My words! He was reading my words out loud to the entire class. What's more, the entire class was listening. Listening attentively. Then somebody laughed, then the entire class was laughing, and not in contempt and ridicule, but with open-hearted enjoyment. Even Mr. Fleagle stopped two or three times to hold back a small prim smile.I did my best to avoid showing pleasure, but what I was feeling was pure delight at this demonstration that my words had the power to make people laugh. In the eleventh grade, at the eleventh hour as it were, I had discovered a calling. It was the happiest moment of my entire school career. When Mr. Fleagle finished he put the final seal on my happiness by saying, "Now that, boys, is an essay, don't you see. It's — don't you see — it's of the very essence of the essay, don't you see. Congratulations, Mr. Baker."(797 words)Unit 2He must have been completely lost in something he was reading because I had to tap on the windshield to get his attention."Is your cab available?" I asked when he finally looked up at me. He nodded, then said apologetically as I settled into the back seat, "I'm sorry, but I was reading a letter." He sounded as if he had a cold or something."I'm in no hurry," I told him. "Go ahead and finish your letter." He shook his head. "I've read it several times already. I guess I almost know it by heart.""Letters from home always mean a lot," I said. "At least they do with me because I'm on the road so much." Then, estimating thathe was 60 or 70 years old, I guessed: "From a child or maybe a grandchild?""This isn't family," he replied. "Although," he went on, "come to think of it", it might just as well have been family. Old Ed was my oldest friend. In fact, we used to call each other 'Old Friend' — when we'd meet, that is. I'm not much of a hand at writing." "I don't think any of us keep up our correspondence too well," I said. "I know I don't. But I take it he's someone you've known quite a while?""All my life, practically. We were kids together, so we go way back.""Went to school together?""All the way through high school. We were in the same class, in fact, through both grade and high school.""There are not too many people who've had such a long friendship," I said."Actually," the driver went on, "I hadn't seen him more than once or twice a year over the past 25 or 30 years because I moved away from the old neighborhood and you kind of lose touch even though you never forget. He was a great guy." "You said 'was'. Does that mean —?"He nodded. "Died a couple of weeks ago.""I'm sorry," I said. "It's no fun to lose any friend — and losing a real old one is even tougher."He didn't reply to that, and we rode on in silence for a few minutes. But I realized that Old Ed was still on his mind when he spoke again, almost more to himself than to me: "I should have kept in touch. Yes," he repeated, "I should have kept in touch.""Well," I agreed, "we should all keep in touch with old friends more than we do. But things come up and we just don't seem to find the time."He shrugged. "We used to find the time," he said. "That's even mentioned in the letter." He handed it over to me. "Take a look." "Thanks," I said, "but I don't want to read your mail. That's pretty personal."The driver shrugged. "Old Ed's dead. There's nothing personal now. Go ahead," he urged me.The letter was written in pencil. It began with the greeting "Old Friend," and the first sentence reminded me of myself. I've been meaning to write for some time, but I've always postponed it. It then went on to say that he often thought about the good times they had had together when they both lived in the sameneighborhood. It had references to things that probably meant something to the driver, such as the time Tim Shea broke the window, the Halloween that we tied Old Mr. Parker's gate, and when Mrs. Culver used to keep us after school."You must have spent a lot of time together," I said to him. "Like it says there," he answered, "about all we had to spend in those days was time." He shook his head: "Time."I thought the next paragraph of the letter was a little sad: I began the letter with "Old Friend" because that's what we've become over the years — old friends. And there aren't many of us left. "You know," I said to him, "when it says here that there aren't many of us left, that's absolutely right. Every time I go to a class reunion, for example, there are fewer and fewer still around." "Time goes by," the driver said."Did you two work at the same place?" I asked him."No, but we hung out on the same corner when we were single. And then, when we were married, we used to go to each other's house every now and then. But for the last 20 or 30 years it's been mostly just Christmas cards. Of course there'd be always a note we'd each add to the cards — usually some news about our families, you know, what the kids were doing, who moved where, a new grandchild, things like that —but never a realletter or anything like that.""This is a good part here," I said. "Where it says Your friendship over the years has meant an awful lot to me, more than I can say because I'm not good at saying things like that. " I found myself nodding in agreement. "That must have made you feel good, didn't it?"The driver said something that I couldn't understand because he seemed to be all choked up, so I continued: "I know I'd like to receive a letter like that from my oldest friend."We were getting close to our destination so I skipped to the last paragraph. So I thought you'd like to know that I was thinking of you. And it was signed，Your Old Friend, Tom.I handed back the letter as we stopped at my hotel. "Enjoyed talking with you," I said as I took my suitcase out of the cab. Tom? The letter was signed Tom?"I thought your friend's name was Ed," I said. "Why did he sign it Tom?""The letter was not from Ed to me," he explained. "I'm Tom. It's a letter I wrote to him before I knew he'd died. So I never mailed it."He looked sort of sorrowful, or as if he were trying to see something in the distance. "I guess I should have written itsooner."When I got to my hotel room I didn't unpack right away. First I had to write a letter — and mail it.(1093 words)Unit 3Whether we like it or not, the world we live in has changed a great deal in the last hundred years, and it is likely to change even more in the next hundred. Some people would like to stop these changes and go back to what they see as a purer and simpler age. But as history shows, the past was not that wonderful. It was not so bad for a privileged minority, though even they had to do without modern medicine, and childbirth was highly risky for women. But for the vast majority of the population, life was nasty, brutish, and short.Anyway, even if one wanted to, one couldn't put the clock back to an earlier age. Knowledge and techniques can't just be forgotten. Nor can one prevent further advances in the future. Even if all government money for research were cut off (and the present government is doing its best), the force of competition would still bring about advances in technology. Moreover, one cannot stop inquiring minds from thinking about basic science, whether or not they are paid for it. The only way to preventfurther developments would be a global state that suppressed anything new, and human initiative and inventiveness are such that even this wouldn't succeed. All it would do is slow down the rate of change.If we accept that we cannot prevent science and technology from changing our world, we can at least try to ensure that the changes they make are in the right directions. In a democratic society, this means that the public needs to have a basic understanding of science, so that it can make informed decisions and not leave them in the hands of experts. At the moment, the public is in two minds about science. It has come to expect the steady increase in the standard of living that new developments in science and technology have brought to continue, but it also distrusts science because it doesn't understand it. This distrust is evident in the cartoon figure of the mad scientist working in his laboratory to produce a Frankenstein. It is also an important element behind support for the Green parties. But the public also has a great interest in science, particularly astronomy, as is shown by the large audiences for television series such as The Sky at Night and for science fiction.What can be done to harness this interest and give the public the scientific background it needs to make informed decisions onsubjects like acid rain, the greenhouse effect, nuclear weapons, and genetic engineering? Clearly, the basis must lie in what is taught in schools. But in schools science is often presented in a dry and uninteresting manner. Children learn it by rote to pass examinations, and they don't see its relevance to the world around them. Moreover, science is often taught in terms of equations. Although equations are a brief and accurate way of describing mathematical ideas, they frighten most people. When I wrote a popular book recently, I was advised that each equation I included would halve the sales. I included one equation, Einstein's famous equation, E=mc2. Maybe I would have sold twice as many copies without it.Scientists and engineers tend to express their ideas in the form of equations because they need to know the precise values of quantities. But for the rest of us, a qualitative grasp of scientific concepts is sufficient, and this can be conveyed by words and diagrams, without the use of equations.The science people learn in school can provide the basic framework. But the rate of scientific progress is now so rapid that there are always new developments that have occurred since one was at school or university. I never learned about molecular biology or transistors at school, but genetic engineering andcomputers are two of the developments most likely to change the way we live in the future. Popular books and magazine articles about science can help to put across new developments, but even the most successful popular book is read by only a small proportion of the population. Only television can reach a truly mass audience. There are some very good science programmes on TV, but others present scientific wonders simply as magic, without explaining them or showing how they fit into the framework of scientific ideas. Producers of television science programmes should realize that they have a responsibility to educate the public, not just entertain it.The world today is filled with dangers, hence the sick joke that the reason we have not been contacted by an alien civilization is that civilizations tend to destroy themselves when they reach our stage. But I have sufficient faith in the good sense of the public to believe that we might prove this wrong.(812 words)Unit 4He came from a rocky farm in Italy, somewhere south of Rome. How or when he got to America, I don't know. But one evening I found him standing in the driveway, behind my garage. He was about five-foot-seven or eight, and thin."I mow your lawn," he said. It was hard to comprehend his broken English.I asked him his name. "Tony Trivisonno," he replied. "I mow your lawn." I told Tony that I couldn't afford a gardener."I mow your lawn," he said again, then walked away. I went into my house unhappy. Yes, these Depression days were difficult, but how could I to turn away a person who had come to me for help?When I got home from work the next evening, the lawn had been mowed, the garden weeded, and the walks swept. I asked my wife what had happened."A man got the lawn mower out of the garage and worked on the yard," she answered. "I assumed you had hired him."I told her of my experience the night before. We thought it strange that he had not asked for pay.The next two days were busy, and I forgot about Tony. We were trying to rebuild our business and bring some of our workers back to the plants. But on Friday, returning home a little early, I saw Tony again, behind the garage. I complimented him on the work he had done."I mow your lawn," he said.I managed to work out some kind of small weekly pay, and eachday Tony cleaned up the yard and took care of any little tasks. My wife said he was very helpful whenever there were any heavy objects to lift or things to fix.Summer passed into fall, and winds blew cold. "Mr. Craw, snow pretty soon," Tony told me one evening. "When winter come, you give me job clearing snow at the factory."Well, what do you do with such determination and hope? Of course, Tony got his job at the factory.The months passed. I asked the personnel department for a report. They said Tony was a very good worker.One day I found Tony at our meeting place behind the garage. "I want to be 'prentice," he said.We had a pretty good apprentice school that trained laborers. But I doubted whether Tony had the capacity to read blueprints and micrometers or do precision work. Still, how could I turn him down?Tony took a cut in pay to become an apprentice. Months later, I got a report that he had graduated as a skilled grinder. He had learned to read the millionths of an inch on the micrometer and to shape the grinding wheel with an instrument set with a diamond. My wife and I were delighted with what we felt was a satisfying end of the story.A year or two passed, and again I found Tony in his usual waiting place. We talked about his work, and I asked him what he wanted."Mr. Craw," he said, "I like a buy a house." On the edge of town, he had found a house for sale, a complete wreck.I called on a banker friend. "Do you ever loan money on character?" I asked. "No," he said. "We can't afford to. No sale." "Now, wait a minute," I replied. "Here is a hard-working man, a man of character, I can promise you that. He's got a good job. You're not getting a damn thing from your lot. It will stay there for years. At least he will pay your interest."Reluctantly, the banker wrote a mortgage for $2,000 and gave Tony the house with no down payment. Tony was delighted. From then on, it was interesting to see that any discarded odds and ends around our place — a broken screen, a bit of hardware, boards from packing — Tony would gather and take home.After about two years, I found Tony in our familiar meeting spot. He seemed to stand a little straighter. He was heavier. He had a look of confidence."Mr. Craw, I sell my house!" he said with pride. "I got $8,000."I was amazed. "But, Tony, where are you going to live without a house?""Mr. Craw, I buy a farm."We sat down and talked. Tony told me that to own a farm was his dream. He loved the tomatoes and peppers and all the other vegetables important to his Italian diet. He had sent for his wife and son and daughter back in Italy. He had hunted around the edge of town until he found a small, abandoned piece of property with a house and shed. Now he was moving his family to his farm.Sometime later. Tony arrived on a Sunday afternoon, neatly dressed. He had another Italian man with him. He told me that he had persuaded his childhood friend to move to America. Tony was sponsoring him. With an amused look in his eye, he told me that when they approached the little farm he now operated, his friend stood in amazement and said, "Tony, you are a millionaire!"Then, during the war, a message came from my company. Tony had passed away.I asked our people to check on his family and see that everything was properly handled. They found the farm green with vegetables, the little house livable and homey. There was a tractor and a good car in the yard. The children were educated and working, and Tony didn't owe a cent.After he passed away, I thought more and more about Tony's career. He grew in stature in my mind. In the end, I think he stood as tall, and as proud, as the greatest American industrialists.They had all reached their success by the same route and by the same values and principles: vision, determination, self-control, optimism, self-respect and, above all, integrity.Tony did not begin on the bottom rung of the ladder. He began in the basement. Tony's affairs were tiny; the greatest industrialists' affairs were giant. But, after all, the balance sheets were exactly the same. The only difference was where you put the decimal point.Tony Trivisonno came to America seeking the American Dream.But he didn't find it — he created it for himself. All he had were 24 precious hours a day, and he wasted none of them.(1110 words)。

全新版大学英语综合教程2课文原文及翻译

然而，我和埃伦获得的有关中美教育观念差异的最难忘的体验并非来自课堂，而是来自我们在南京期间寓居的金陵饭店的大堂。