研究生综合英语1修订版课文原文

研究生综合英语1修订版课文原文
Unit1 An Image or a Mirage?
There is a distinct difference between a winning image and a mirage.
A mirage is an illusion, and in your quest for a winning image, you must be capable of identifying such mirages.
One of the common misread images stems from what people think about eye contact. How many times have you heard, “You can tell he’s an honest man because he looks you straight in the eye.” Evidently, many people must believe that a dishonest man feels so ashamed that he’s not telling the truth that he can’t even face them directly. But what about an honest individual who is too shy to look straight at you? Furthermore, a good can artist knows that many people judge integrity by the way one looks at them, so he deliberately includes eye contact in his act. Because you can’t count on eye contact as an infallible test, you should never use it to evaluate another person’s honesty. Nonetheless, since most people do judge others by this criterion, be sure that you always look them squarely in the eye.
Evaluating a man’s honesty by the way he looks at you makes no more sense than judging his integrity by the way your dog or cat reacts to him. Yet how many times have you heard a dog’s master say, “That’s interesting —Thor doesn’t take to strangers very often. He’s a good judge of human nature, and the fact that he’s friendly with you
tells me some good things about you.” Once when I was in the home of a
m prospect, his cat, Tiger, took such a liking to me that he sat on my shoulder during my entire sales presentation. When I was finished, my prospect’s wife said, “Mr. Shook, Tiger only does that with members of our immediate family. You must be a very honest person for her to be so friendly to you.”
The truth of the matter was that I refrained from pushing the cat
off because I was afraid she’d rip my suit or scratch my eyes out. However, I replied, “Yes, ma’am, Tiger obviously has some kind of instinct that enables her to accurately judge humans. She sure is a good judge of character.” Even t hough Tiger happened to be right in my case, I
personally put very little faith in an animal’s instinctual ability to judge people. I’d say his reactions have more to do with odors and body movement.
Some people judge another person by the way he or she shakes hands.
A good, strong grip represents character, while a “dead fish” handshake! is a bad sign. 1, too, dislike the flabby handshake with no life to it, but I am careful not m to use it as a basis for judging an individual. Again, it’s
too easy for a con artist to put a hearty handshake into his act. Though you should give a firm handshake so you’ll immediately create a good
impression, don’t place too much weight on the next fellow’s grip; it doesn’t tell you anything concrete about him.
There’s c ertain clean-cut appearance that creates an honest image. For example, a blond, blue-eyed young man with a boyish grin and a look that typifies the boy-next-door, All-American type’ will almost always inspire confidence in mothers. There is no logical reason for
placing such blind faith in a man simply because of the way he looks,
yet most people do make such quick judgments. Conversely, the seedy man with dark oily skin, greasy black hair, and a moustache is not considered honest-looking. Similarly, a woman may have them looks which are usually associated with those of a streetwalker, whereas a high-priced call girl may look refined and refreshing. Naturally, clothes
and — in the case of women —
cosmetics, have a great deal to do with such aforementioned appearances, but unfortunately a person’s m natural looks, over which
he or she has little control, play an important part in the judgments most people will make. I pity the hard-working, honest salesman who was born with the looks that make people automat ically think, “He’s not
the kind of man I’d want to buy a used car from!” On the other hand, a very devious individual may look like the type you can trust. How can
you be sure that the hitchhiker who looks so clean-cut is any less dangerous than the one who, because of his appearance, looks like a risk? And how can you be sure that this one really is a risk? The point is
that we are most often being completely unreasonable in making such snap decisions.
On a larger scale, voters often react favorably to a politician simply because of his clean-cut appearance. His opponent is often judged negatively because he has not been blessed with natural looks that generate trust. This kind of judgment is erroneous, and the consequences can produce devastating results. Granted, many people vote for a candidate strictly because of political issues, but the clean-cut image can tip the scales in favor of the wrong man in a close election.
We make snap judgments about people on the basis of how they express themselves. To revert to politics, many voters judge a candidate’s ability by the way he makes a public speech. But though a candidate may be an effective speaker, he may not be capable of doing the job for which he is running. I know many highly talented men who simply have not developed an ability to speak well in public, but who are excellent in communicating with others on a one-to-one basis. The ability to express yourself strongly is always important, but we are too often wrongly impressed by the man who comes across as eloquent, since it is always possible that this virtue is only “skin-deep.” Yet it is easy to imagine
a politician with a clean-cut look and a magnetic speaking voice romping all over his unassuming but better qualified opponent. He wins solely because his image is convincing.
After many years of interviewing and hiring salesmen, I have reached the conclusion that the man with the glib tongue doesn’t necessarily become the top producer. Though there is a definite advantage in having
a “natural” sell ing personality, more often than not the salesman with good working habits, proper motivation, and commitment is the one who becomes the best in his company. Too often, the sales manager who hires salesmen simply because of their extroverted and flamboyant
personalities will have a high turnover.
Another influencing factor is the effect produced on the listener by the sound of a name. At some time or another, we’ve all been guilty of hastily forming an unwarranted opinion when we hear a “winning name”
as opposed to a “losing” one. Hollywood recognized this fact long ago when the studios began changing the stars’ real names. One of my favorite movie lines is James Bond’s response to Pussy Galore’, the heroine in the movie Goldfinger. Meeting her for the first time, he can only exclaim, “I must be dreaming!” Had her name been Harriett Finkelstein, the audience would never have been able to appreciate one of the screen’s all-time great names! Yet, no matter how great a name is, using it as a criterion in evaluating character is just as illogical as determining a person’s value by a handshake.
The beautiful, sexy redhead isn’t always the best bed partner, nor is the big, strong man, whom we usually expect to be the hero, always braver than the small, frail man on the battlefield. Likewise, there is no sound reason for believing that the out-of-town attorney or consultant is any more of an expert than the local man. Just because your dentist has to book you six months in advance does not automatically mean that he does the best root-canal work. Nor will the
insurance agent who drives a Mercedes’ necessarily give you better service than the agent who drives a Ford sedan. Having to go through a main switchboard, a receptionist, and a private secretary before you get to speak with your attorney is no indication of his legal abilities. I also hope you don’t withdraw all your savings from Fourth Bank and deposit them with Third Bank just because their new home office building is several stories taller. It is equally unreasonable to assume that a hospital-clean restaurant serves the best food. True, all these factors are nice window dressing, and they shouldn’t be completely ignored, but other more important factors must be considered before you make any
final decisions a bout those with whom you’ll do business.
Many images are only mirages that we have been conditioned to accept as the real thing. So don’t be fooled the next time somebody tells you that Truman Blue is a great guy because of his wonderful smile, the way he looks people straight in the eye when he talks to them, his firm handshake, and his remarkable rapport with pets!
Phrases and Expressions
in quest for: trying to find; seeking
what about: what do you think about (sth.)
stem from: arise from; have as its origin or cause take to: start to like
count on: rely on with confidence
take a liking to: be fond of
have to do with sb. (sth.): be connected with or related to sb. (sth.) tip the scales: give a slight advantage to sb. or sth. be blessed with sb. (sth.): be fortunate in having sb. (sth.) revert to: talk about again; go back to (a former subject of conversation)
come across: make an impression of the specified type more often
than not: very frequently
as opposed to: in contrast to
Unit2 Is Love an Art?
Is love an art? Then it requires knowledge and effort. Or is love a pleasant sensation, which to experience is a matter of chance, something one “falls into” if one is lucky? This little book is based on the former premise, while undoubtedly the majority of people today believe in the latter.
Not that people think that love is not important. They are starved
for it; they watch endless numbers of films about happy and unhappy love stories, they listen to hundreds of trashy songs about love — yet hardly
anyone thinks that there is anything that needs to be learned about love.
This peculiar attitude is based on several premises which either singly or combined tend to uphold it. Most people see the problem of love primarily as that of being loved, rather than that of loving, of one’s
capacity to love. Hence the problem to them is how to be loved, how to be lovable. In pursuit of this aim they follow several paths. One, which is especially used by men, is to be successful, to be as powerful and rich as t he social margin of one’s position permits. Another, used especially by women, is to make oneself attractive, by cultivating
one’s body, dress, etc. Other ways of making oneself attractive, used both by men and women, are to develop pleasant manners, interesting conversation, to be helpful, modest, inoffensive. Many of the ways to make oneself lovable are the same as those used to make oneself successful, “to win friends and influence people.” As a ED matter of fact, what most people in our culture mean by being lovable is essentially a mixture between being popular and having sex appeal.
A second premise behind the attitude that there is nothing to be learned about love is the assumption that the problem of love is the problem of an object, not the problem of a faculty. People think that to love is
simple, but that to find the right object to love — or to be
loved — is
difficult. This attitude has several reasons rooted in the development of modern society. One reason is the great change which occurred in the twentieth century with respect to the choice of a “love object.” In the
Victorian age, as in many traditional cultures, love was mostly not
a spontaneous personal experience which then might lead to marriage. On the contrary, marriage was contracted by convention either by the respective families, or by a marriage broker, or without the help of such intermediaries; it was concluded on the basis of social considerations, and love was supposed to develop once the marriage had been concluded. In the last few generations the concept of romantic love has become almost universal in the Western world. In the United States, while considerations of a conventional nature are not
entirely absent, to a vast extent people are in search of “romantic love,” of the personal experience of love which then should lead to marriage. This new concept of freedom in love must have greatly enhanced the importance of the object as against the importance of the function.
Closely related to this factor is another feature characteristic of contemporary culture. Our whole culture is based on the appetite for buying, on the idea of a mutually favorable exchange. Modern man’s happiness consists in the thrill of looking at the shop windows, and in buying all that he can afford to buy, either for cash or on installments. He (or she) looks at people in a similar way. For the man an attractive girl —
and for the woman an attractive man — are the prizes they are after.
“Attractive” usually means a nice package of qualities which are popular and sought after on the personality market. What specifically
makes a person attractive depends on the fashion of the time, physically as well as mentally.
During the twenties, a drinking and smoking girl, tough and sexy,
was attractive; today the fashion demands more domesticity and coyness. At the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of this century, a man
had to be aggressive and ambitious — today he has to be social and tolerant
—in order to be an attractive “package.” At any rate, the sense
of falling in love develops usually only with regard to such human commodities as are within reach of one’s own possibilities for exchange.
I am out for a bargain; the object should be desirable from the standpoint of its social value, and at the same time should want me, considering my overt and hidden assets and potentialities. Two persons thus fall in love when they feel they have found the best object
available on the market, considering the limitations of their own exchange values. Often, as in buying real estate, the hidden
potentialities which can be developed play a considerable role in this bargain. In a culture in which the marketing orientation prevails, and
in which material success is the outstanding value, there is little reason to be surprised that human love relations follow the same pattern of exchange which governs the commodity and the labor market.
The third error leading to the assumption that there is nothing to
be learned about love lies in the confusion between the initial
experience of “falling” in love, and the permanent state of being in love, or as we might
better say, of “standing” in love. If two people who have been strangers, as all of us are, suddenly let the wall between them break down, and feel close, feel one, this moment of oneness is one of the most exhilarating, most exciting experiences in life. It is all the more wonderful and
miraculous for persons who have been shut off, isolated, without love. This miracle of sudden intimacy is often facilitated if it is combined with, or initiated by, sexual attraction and consummation.
However, this type of love is by its very nature not lasting. The
two persons become well acquainted, their intimacy loses more and more its miraculous character, until their antagonism, their disappointments, their mutual boredom kill whatever is left of the initial excitement. Yet, in the beginning they do not know all of this, in fact, they take the intensity of the infatuation, this being “crazy” about each other, for proof of the intensity of their love, while it may only prove the degree of their preceding loneliness.
This attitude — that nothing is easier than to love — has
continued to
be the prevalent idea about love in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. There is hardly any activity, any enterprise, which is started with such tremendous hopes and expectations, and yet, which fails so regularly, as love. If this were the case with any other
activity, people would be eager to know the reasons for the failure, and to learn how one could do better — or they would give up the activity. Since the latter is impossible in the case of love, there seems to be only one adequate way to overcome the failure of love — to examine the reasons for this failure,
and to proceed to study the meaning of love.
The first step to take is to become aware that love is an art just
as living is an art; if we want to learn how to love we must proceed in the same way we have to proceed if we want to learn any other art, say music, painting, carpentry, or the art of medicine or engineering.
What are the necessary steps in learning any art?
The process of learning an art can be divided conveniently into two parts; one, the mastery of the theory; the other, the mastery of the practice. If I want to learn the art of medicine, I must first know the facts about the human body, and about various diseases. When I have all this theoretical knowledge, I am by no means competent in the art of medicine. I shall
become a master in this art only after a great deal of practice,
until eventually the results of my theoretical knowledge and the results of my practice are blended into one — my intuition, the essence of the mastery
of any art. But, aside from learning the theory and practice, there is a third factor necessary to becoming a master in any art — the mastery
of the art must be a matter of ultimate concern; there must be nothing else in the world more important than the art. This holds true for music, for
medicine, for carpentry — and for love. And, maybe, here lies the answer
to the question of why people in our culture try so rarely to learn this art, in spite of their obvious failures, in spite of the deep-seated craving for love, almost everything else is considered to be more important than love, success, prestige, money, power — almost all our energy is used for the
learning of how to achieve these aims, and almost none to learn the art of loving.
Could it be that only those things are considered worthy of being learned with which one can earn money or prestige, and that love, which “only” profits the soul, but is profitless in the modern sense, is a luxury
we have no right to spend much energy on?
Phrases and Expressions
be starved for sth.: be hungry for sth. ; suffer greatly because someone is not getting enough of sth.
in pursuit of sb./sth.: pursing sb. or sth.
hold true for sth.: certainly apply to sth. ; have an effect on
Unit 3 The Ant and the Grasshopper
When I was a very small boy I was made to learn by heart certain of the fables of La Fontaine, and the moral of each was carefully explained to me. Among those learned was The Ant and the Grasshopper, which is devised to bring home to the young the useful lesson that in an imperfect world industry is rewarded and giddiness punished. In this admirable fable ( I apologize for telling something which everyone is politely, but inexactly, supposed to know) the ant spends a laborious summer gathering its winter store, while the grasshopper sits on a blade of grass singing to the sun. Winter comes and the ant is comfortably provided for, but the grasshopper has an empty larder, he goes to the ant and begs for a little food. Then the ant gives him her classic answer:
“What were you doing in the summer time?”
“Saving your presence, I sang, I sang all day, all night. ”
“You sang. Why, then go and dance.”
I do not ascribe it to perversity on my part, but rather to the inconsequence of childhood, which is deficient in moral sense, that I could never quite reconcile myself to the lesson. My sympathies were with the grasshopper and for some time I never saw an ant without
putting my foot on it. In this summary (and I have discovered since, entirely human) fashion I sought to express my disapproval of prudence and common-sense.
I could not help thinking of this fable when the other day I saw George Ramsay lunching by himself in a restaurant. I never saw anyone
wear an expression of such deep gloom. He was staring into space. He looked as though the burden of the whole world sat on his shoulders. I was sorry for him. I suspected at once that his unfortunate brother had been causing trouble again. I went up to him and held out my hand.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m not in hilarious spirits,” he answered.
“Is it Tom again?”
He sighed.
“Yes, it’s Tom again.”
“Why don’t you chuck him? You’ve done everything in the world for him. You must know by now that he’s quite hopeless.”
I suppose every family has a black sheep. Tom had been a sore trial to his for twenty years. He had begun life decently enough, he went into business, married and had two child The Ramsays were perfectly respectable people and there was every reason to suppose that Tom Ramsay would have a useful and honourable career. But one day, without warning, he announced that he didn’t like work and that he wasn’t suited for marriage. He wanted to enjoy himself. He would listen to no expostulations. He left his wife and his office. He had a little money and he spent two happy years in the various capitals of Europe. Rumours of his doings reached his relations from time to time and they were profoundly shocked. He certainly had a very good time. They shook their heads and asked what would happen when his money was spent. They soon found out, he borrowed. He was charming and unscrupulous. I have never
met anyone to whom it was more difficult to refuse a loan. He made a steady income from his friends and he made friends easily. But he always said that the money you spent on necessities was boring; the money that was amusing to spend was the money you spent in luxuries. For this he depended on his brother George. He did not waste his charm on him. George was a serious man and insensible to such enticements. George was respectable. Once or twice he fell to Tom’s promises of amendment and gave him considerable sums in order that he might make a fresh start. On these Tom bought a motor-car and some very nice jewellery. But when circumstances forced George to realise that his brother would never settle down and he washed his hands of him, Tom, without a qualm, began to blackmail him. It was not very nice for a respectable lawyer to find his brother shaking cocktails behind the bar of his favorite restaurant or to see him waiting on the box-seat of a taxi outside his club. Tom said that to serve in a bar or to drive a taxi was a perfectly decent occupation, but if George could oblige him with a couple of hundred pounds, he didn’t mind for the honour of the family giving it up. George paid.
Once Tom nearly went to prison. George was terribly upset. He went into the whole discreditable affair. Really Tom had gone too far. He had been wild, thoughtless and selfish, but he had never before done anything dishonest, by which George meant illegal; and if he were prosecuted he would assuredly be convicted. But you cannot allow your only brother to go to gaol. The man Tom had cheated, a man called
Cronshaw, was vindictive. He was determined to take the matter into court; he said Tom was a scoundrel and should be punished. It cost George an infinite deal of trouble and five hundred pounds to settle the affair. I have never seen him in such a rage as when he heard that Tom and Cronshaw had gone off together to Monte Carlo the moment they cashed the cheque. They spent a happy month there.
For twenty years Tom raced and gambled, philandered with prettiest girls, danced, ate in the most expensive restaurants, and dressed beautifully. He always looked as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox. Though he was forty-six you would never have taken him for more than thirty-five. He was a most amusing companion and though you knew he was perfectly worthless you could not but enjoy his society. He had high spirits, an unfailing gaiety and incredible charm. I never grudged the contributions he regularly levied on me for the necessities of his existence. I never lent him fifty pounds without feeling that I was in his debt. Tom Ramsay knew everyone and everyone knew Tom Ramsay. You could not approve of him, but you could not help liking him.
Poor George, only a year older than his scapegrace brother, looked sixty. He had never taken more than a fortnight’s holiday in the year
for a
quarter of a century. He was in his office every morning at nine-
thirty and never left it till six. He was honest, industrious and worthy. He had a good wife, to whom he had never been unfaithful even in thought, and four daughters to whom he was the best of fathers. He made a point
of saving a third of his income and his plan was to retire at fifty-five to a little house in the country where he proposed to cultivate his garden and play golf. His life was blameless. He was glad that he was growing old because Tom was growing old too. He rubbed his hands and said:
“It was all very well when Tom was young and good-looking, but
he’s
only a year younger than I am. In four years he’ll be fifty. He won’t find life so easy then. I shall have thirty thousand pounds by
the time I’m fifty. For twenty-five years I’ve said that Tom would end in the gutter. And we shall see how he likes that. We shall see if it really p ays best to work or be idle.”
Poor George! I sympathized with him. I wondered now as I sat down beside him what infamous thing Tom had done. George was evidently very much upset.
“Do you know what’s happened now?” he asked me.
I was prepared for the worst. I wondered if Tom had got into the hands of the police at last. George could hardly bring himself to speak.
“You’re not going to deny that all my life I’ve been hardworking, decent, respectable and straightforward. After a life of industry and thrift I can look forward to retiring on a small income in gilt-edged securities. I’ve always done my duty in that state of life in which it has pleased Providence to place me.”
“True. ”
“And you can’t deny that Tom has been an idle, worthless,
dissolute and di shonourable rogue. If there were any justice he’d be in the
workhouse.”
“True. ”
George grew red in the face.
“A few weeks ago he became engaged to a woman old enough to be his mother. And now she’s died and left him everything she had. Half a million pounds, a yacht, a house in London and a house in the country.”
George Ramsay beat his clenched fist on the table.
“It’s not fair, I tell you, it’s not fair. Damn it, it’s not fair.”
I could not help it. I burst into a shout of laughter as I looked at G eorge’s wrathful face, I rolled in my chair, I very nearly fell on the floor. George never forgave me. But Tom often asks me to excellent dinners in his charming house in Mayfair and if he occasionally borrows a trifle from me, that is merely force of habit. It is never more than a sovereign.
Unit 7 The Trying Twenties
The Trying Twenties confronts us with the question of how to take hold in the adult world. Incandescent with our energies, having outgrown the family and the formlessness of our transiting years, we are impatient to pour ourselves into the exactly right form — our own way of
living in the world. Or while looking for it, we want to tryout some provisional form. For now we are not only trying to prove ourselves competent in the larger society but intensely aware of being on trial.
Graduate student is a safe and familiar form for those who can
afford it. Working toward a degree is something young people already know how to do. It postpones having to prove oneself in the bigger, bullying arena. Very few Americans had such a privilege before World War II; they reached the jumping-off point by the tender age of 16 or 18 or 20 and had to make their move ready or not. But today, a quarter of a century is often spent before an individual is expected or expects himself to fix his life’s course. Or more. Given the permissiveness to experiment, the prolonged schooling available, and the moratoria allowed, it is not unusual for an adventurer to be nearly 30 before firmly
setting a course.
Today, the seven-year spread of this stage seems commonly to be from the ages of 22 to 28.
The tasks of this period are as enormous as they are ED exhilarating, To shape a dream, that vision of one’s own possibilities in the world that will generate energy, aliveness, and hope. To prepare for a lifework. To find a mentor if possible. And to form the capacity for intimacy without losing in the process whatever constancy of self we have thus far assembled. The first test structure must be erected around the life we choose to try.。