初中生英語美文摘抄
經(jīng)典美文,經(jīng)得起時間的考驗,被歷史證明是最有價值、最重要的文化精髓,思想宏遠,構(gòu)思巧妙,語言精美。加強經(jīng)典美文誦讀與積累,并對學(xué)生加以寫作指導(dǎo),做到讀寫訓(xùn)練有效結(jié)合,能讓學(xué)生有效地提高寫作能力。小編精心收集了關(guān)于初中英語美文，供大家欣賞學(xué)習!
關(guān)于初中英語美文：A Healthy New Me
It's extremely important to always have a goal.
I have a new goal this month.
I am going to totally improve my health.
I must do this for myself.
I must do this for my family.
I will try to think positive thoughts every day.
I will exercise every day.
I will take good care of teeth.
I will keep my body and hair clean.
I will eat nutritious food.
I will drink enough water.
I will drink at least eight glasses a day.
I will go to bed early and get up early every day.
I won't stay up late studying, working or fooling around.
I won't drink.
I won't smoke.
I won't do anything to harm my body.
I wish everyone would join me in my goal because everyone should care about his health!
We shouldn't take our health for granted.
If you destroy your health, you have nothing left.
Keeping good health is always easier than regaining your lost health.
關(guān)于初中英語美文：街角還有公共電話棚
It's generally considered a good idea to know where you are at all times, apart from occasional lapses(失效，流逝) due to alcohol or passion. Technology is now making it increasingly easy for everyone else to know where you are as well.
We are so used to having mobile phones around us that we no longer see how much emotional reassurance they provide. We have slowly shifted from feeling slightly unnatural when connected ("Hello? Who's on the line? Hello?") to feeling very unnatural when disconnected ("And then I lost my mobile. Nightmare"). This week I sat next to a woman on a train whose bag kept vibrating with an irritating(刺激的), mosquito-like hum. I wondered if she had hearing problems, and hadn't noticed that her phone was going off, or was missing a vibrating alert because the phone was in an outside pocket of her bag, nicely positioned to irradiate(照耀) my head. I asked if she knew if her phone was ringing. "Oh no," she said complacently. "That's my Blackberry collecting my e-mails."
It may be that she didn't know she could set her device not to give her a vibromassage(振動按摩) at three-second intervals, but I suspect she just liked the reassurance provided by this humming network node in her Mulberry. It was impossible to miss the warm glow she got from being connected. We don't all have Blackberrys but we pretty much all have phones, and we are all getting the same nice warm glow of connection and validation from these devices.
Personal productivity guru David Allen, godfather of Geeing Things Done, an approach to managing your day which has become something of a cult amongst programmers and tech industry workers, sees the Blackberry as symptomatic not of our efficiency but of our failure to make decisions and priorities. We can't make decisions about what's important, so we carry our office around with us at all times, compensating for our failing powers of decision. (He even speculates that after a while people will start carrying even larger handhelds, called Watermelons, to provide even more information, reassurance, and security.)
Many people in the rich parts of the world live atomised urban lives characterised by anonymity, hurry, and rush, and a kind of low-level anxiety caused by the stresses of the world we've built ourselves. We seem to be turning to digital devices to provide compensatory connections that remind us who we are and that give us good feelings of connection and identity.
Mobile phone companies know this and market their products to young preteens. I've seen research which explains that the period of adolescent uncertainty, in which you're not really sure who your friends are, is the time when a mobile phone for texting and calling friends is at its most powerful. The modern mobile phone user in the UK will spend most of their money on calls before the age of forty. After that, presumably, they have a landline and a fixed circle of friends, and don't need constant texts and calls to reassure them that they're accepted by their peer group.
I actually don't think any of this is inherent in the technology. You can do exactly the same thing with a landline. If you remember Woody Allen's brilliant film, Play It Again Sam, the hero's friend Dick, an overworked businessman, neurotically provides phone numbers to his colleagues wherever he goes so that he can be in touch with the office at all times.
Dick: I'll be at 362—9296 for a while; then I'1f be at 648—0024 for about fifteen minutes; then I'II be at 752—0420; and then I'll be home. At 621—4598. Yeah, right George, bye-bye.
Linda: There's a phone booth on the corner You want me to run downstairs and get the number? You'll be passing it.
Dick is a self-important corporate jackass who misses what is going on around him because he's always in pursuit of an important business deal. When did we all turn into him?
關(guān)于初中英語美文：挪威的森林
I was thirtyseven then, strapped in my seat as the huge 747 plunged through dense cloud cover on approach to the Hamburg airport. Cold November rains drenched the earth and lent everything the gloomy air of a Flemish landscape: the ground crew ran gear, a flag atop a squat(蹲著的) airport building, a BMW billboard. So Germany again.
Once the plane was on the ground soft music began to flow from the ceiling speakers: a sweet orchestral(管弦樂的) cover version of the Beatles' " Norwegian Wood". The melody never failed to send a shudder through me, but this time it hit me harder than ever.
I bent forward in my seat, face in hands to keep my skull from splitting open. Before long one of the German stewardesses approached and asked in English if I was sick. "No," I said, just dizzy"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Thanks."
She smiled and left, and the music changed to a Billy Joel tune. I straight ened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.
The plane reached the gate. People began unlatching their seatbelts and pulling baggage from the storage bins, and all the while I was in the meadow. I could smell the grass, feel the wind on my face, hear the cries of the birds. Autumn 1969,and soon I would be twenty.
True, given time enough, I can bring back her face. I start joining image-her tiny, cold hand; her straight, black hair so smooth and cool to the touch; a soft, rounded earlobe and the microscopic mole just beneath it; the camels hair coat she wore in the winter; her habit of looking straight into your eyes when asking a question; the slight trembling that would come to her voice now and then (as if she were speaking on a windy hilltop)-and suddenly her face is there, always in profile at first, because Naoko and I were always out waking together, side by side. Then she turns to me, and smiles, and tilts her head just a bit, and begins to speak, and she looks into my eyes as if trying to catch the image of a minnow that has darted across the pool of a mlimpid spring.
I do need that time, though for Naoko's face to appear. And as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. The sad truth is that what I could recall in five seconds all too soon needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute - like shadows lengthening at dusk. Someday, I suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness. There is no way around it: my memory is growing ever more distant from the spot where Naoko used to stand-ever more distant from the spot where my old self used to stand. And nothing but scenery, that view of the meadow in October, returns again and again to me like a symbolic scene in a movie. Each time it appears, it delivers a kick to some part of my mind. "Wale up," it says. "I'm still here! Wake up and think about it. Think about why I'm still here." The kicking never hurt me. There's no pain at all. Just a hollow(空的)sound that echoes with each kick. And even that is bound to fade one day. At the Hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual which is why I am writing this book: To think. To understand!
It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.
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