英语5000字故事

1872 FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN A CHEERFUL TEMPER by Hans Christian AndersenFROM my father I received the best inheritance, namely a "goodtemper." "And who was my father?" That has nothing to do with the goodtemper; but I will say he was lively, good-looking round, and fat;he was both in appearance and character a complete contradiction tohis profession. "And pray what was his profession and his standingin respectable society?" Well, perhaps, if in the beginning of abook these were written and printed, many, when they read it, wouldlay the book down and say, "It seems to me a very miserable title, Idon't like things of this sort." And yet my father was not askin-dresser nor an executioner; on the contrary, his employmentplaced him at the head of the grandest people of the town, and itwas his place by right. He had to precede the bishop, and even theprinces of the blood; he always went first,- he was a hearse driver!There, now, the truth is out. And I will own, that when people sawmy father perched up in front of the omnibus of death, dressed inhis long, wide, black cloak, and his black-edged, three-cornered haton his head, and then glanced at his round, jocund face, round asthe sun, they could not think much of sorrow or the grave. That facesaid, "It is nothing, it will all end better than people think." SoI have inherited from him, not only my good temper, but a habit ofgoing often to the churchyard, which is good, when done in a properhumor; and then also I take in the Intelligencer, just as he used todo. I am not very young, I have neither wife nor children, nor alibrary, but, as I said, I read the Intelligencer, which is enough forme; it is to me a delightful paper, and so it was to my father. Itis of great use, for it contains all that a man requires to know;the names of the preachers at the church, and the new books whichare published; where houses, servants, clothes, and provisions maybe obtained. And then what a number of subscriptions to charities, andwhat innocent verses! Persons seeking interviews and engagements,all so plainly and naturally stated. Certainly, a man who takes in theIntelligencer may live merrily and be buried contentedly, and by theend of his life will have such a capital stock of paper that he canlie on a soft bed of it, unless he prefers wood shavings for hisresting-place. The newspaper and the churchyard were always excitingobjects to me. My walks to the latter were like bathing-places to mygood humor. Every one can read the newspaper for himself, but comewith me to the churchyard while the sun shines and the trees aregreen, and let us wander among the graves. Each of them is like aclosed book, with the back uppermost, on which we can read the titleof what the book contains, but nothing more. I had a great deal ofinformation from my father, and I have noticed a great deal myself.I keep it in my diary, in which I write for my own use and pleasurea history of all who lie here, and a few more beside. Now we are in the churchyard. Here, behind the white ironrailings, once a rose-tree grew; it is gone now, but a little bit ofevergreen, from a neighboring grave, stretches out its green tendrils,and makes some appearance; there rests a very unhappy man, and yetwhile he lived he might be said to occupy a very good position. He hadenough to live upon, and something to spare; but owing to hisrefined tastes the least thing in the world annoyed him. If he went toa theatre of an evening, instead of enjoying himself he would be quiteannoyed if the machinist had put too strong a light into one side ofthe moon, or if the representations of the sky hung over the sceneswhen they ought to have hung behind them; or if a palm-tree wasintroduced into a scene representing the Zoological Gardens of Berlin,or a cactus in a view of Tyrol, or a beech-tree in the north ofNorway. As if these things were of any consequence! Why did he notleave them alone? Who would trouble themselves about such trifles?especially at a comedy, where every one is expected to be amused. Thensometimes the public applauded too much, or too little, to please him."They are like wet wood," he would say, looking round to see what sortof people were present, "this evening; nothing fires them." Then hewould vex and fret himself because they did not laugh at the righttime, or because they laughed in the wrong places; and so he frettedand worried himself till at last the unhappy man fretted himselfinto the grave. Here rests a happy man, that is to say, a man of high birth andposition, which was very lucky for him, otherwise he would have beenscarcely worth notice. It is beautiful to observe how wisely natureorders these things. He walked about in a coat embroidered all over,and in the drawing-rooms of society looked just like one of those richpearl-embroidered bell-pulls, which are only made for show; and behindthem always hangs a good thick cord for use. This man also had astout, useful substitute behind him, who did duty for him, andperformed all his dirty work. And there are still, even now, theseserviceable cords behind other embroidered bell-ropes. It is all sowisely arranged, that a man may well be in a good humor. Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-but here rests a man who, during sixty-seven years, was neverremembered to have said a good thing; he lived only in the hope ofhaving a good idea. At last he felt convinced, in his own mind, thathe really had one, and was so delighted that he positively died of joyat the thought of having at last caught an idea. Nobody got anythingby it; indeed, no one even heard what the good thing was. Now I canimagine that this same idea may prevent him from resting quietly inhis grave; for suppose that to produce a good effect, it isnecessary to bring out his new idea at breakfast, and that he can onlymake his appearance on earth at midnight, as ghosts are believedgenerally to do; why then this good idea would not suit the hour,and the man would have to carry it down again with him into the grave-that must be a troubled grave. The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that duringher life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighborsmight think she kept a cat. What a miser she was! Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always makeher voice heard in society, and when she sang "Mi manca la voce,"*it was the only true thing she ever said in her life.* "I want a voice," or, "I have no voice."Here lies a maiden of another description. She was engaged to bemarried,- but, her story is one of every-day life; we will leave herto rest in the grave. Here rests a widow, who, with music in her tongue, carried gall inher heart. She used to go round among the families near, and searchout their faults, upon which she preyed with all the envy and maliceof her nature. This is a family grave. The members of this family heldso firmly together in their opinions, that they would believe in noother. If the newspapers, or even the whole world, said of a certainsubject, "It is so-and-so;" and a little schoolboy declared he hadlearned quite differently, they would take his assertion as the onlytrue one, because he belonged to the family. And it is well known thatif the yard-cock belonging to this family happened to crow atmidnight, they would declare it was morning, although the watchman andall the clocks in the town were proclaiming the hour of twelve atnight. The great poet Goethe concludes his Faust with the words, "maybe continued;" so might our wanderings in the churchyard be continued.I come here often, and if any of my friends, or those who are not myfriends, are too much for me, I go out and choose a plot of groundin which to bury him or her. Then I bury them, as it were; therethey lie, dead and powerless, till they come back new and bettercharacters. Their lives and their deeds, looked at after my ownfashion, I write down in my diary, as every one ought to do. Then,if any of our friends act absurdly, no one need to be vexed aboutit. Let them bury the offenders out of sight, and keep their goodtemper. They can also read the Intelligencer, which is a paper writtenby the people, with their hands guided. When the time comes for thehistory of my life, to be bound by the grave, then they will writeupon it as my epitaph-"The man with a cheerful temper."And this is my story.THE END.

1.After being away on business, Tim thought it would be nice to bring his wife a little gift.“How about some perfume？”he asked the cosmetics clerk. She showed him a $50.00 bottle. “That's a bit much,”said Tim, so she returned with a smaller bottle for $30.00.“That's still quite a bit,”Tim complained.Growing annoyed, the clerk brought out a tiny $15.00 bottle.“What I mean,”said Tim, “is I'd like to see something really cheap.”The clerk handed him a mirror. 2. Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.This is a story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.There was an important job to be done and Everybody was asked to do it. Everybody was sure Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done. 3． Taken for GrantedTHE SCHOOL HEALTH formS had been distributed to the students with an error---the word "Sex" had been spelled with an "o". One mother, filling out the form for her son, wrote in the blank next to "Sox": "Usually brown."4.Logic ReasoningA fourth-grade teacher was giving her pupils a lesson in logic."Here is the situation," she said. "a man is standing up in a boat in the middle of a river, fishing. He loses his balance, falls in, and begins splashing and yelling for help. His wife hears the commotion, knows that he can'tm, and runs down to the bank. Why do you think she ran to the bank?"A girl raised her hand and asked, "to draw out all of hissavings?" 5.But the teacher criedThe six-year-old John was terribly spoiled . His father knew it, but his grandma doted on him. He hardly left her side. And when he wanted anything, he either cried or threw a temper tantrum. Then came his first day of school, his first day away from his grandmother's loving arms.When he came home from school his grandma met him at the door."Was school all right?" she asked, "Did you get along all right? did you cry?""Cry?" John asked. "No, I didn't cry, but the teacher did!"

《功夫熊猫》(《Kung Fu Panda》)的: <1> Funny！ I see this movie lastweek, So terrfic,this film make me loving Kung Fu! My liitle sister love the panda very much ,She ask me which kind annimal of Panda？ I told her its one of the cutiest animal in the world ,it only lives in China. In this movie, Panda learns how to improve his level of Kung fu，many scence show that this cartoon is so funny, You can see how things goes on with laugh, I recommend this film to you.! <2> The film stars a panda named Po (voice of Jack Black), who is so fat he can barely get out of bed. He works for his father, Mr. Ping (James Hong) in a noodle shop, which features Ping's legendary Secret Ingredient. How Ping, apparently a stork or other billed member of the avian family, fathered a panda is a mystery, not least to Po, but then the movie is filled with a wide variety of creatures who don't much seem to notice their differences. They live in the beautiful Valley of Peace with an ancient temple towering overhead, up zillions of steps, which the pudgy Po can barely climb. But climb them he does, dragging a noodle wagon, because all the people of the valley have gathered up there to witness the choosing of the Dragon Warrior, who will engage the dreaded Tai Lung (Ian McShane) in kung-fu combat. Five contenders have been selected, the "Furious Five": Monkey (Jackie Chan), Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Mantis (Seth Rogen), Viper (Lucy Liu) and Crane (David Cross). Tigress looks like she might be able to do some serious damage, but the others are less than impressive. Mantis in particular seems to weigh about an ounce, tops. All five have been trained (for nearly forever, I gather) by the wise Shifu, who with Dustin Hoffman's voice is one of the more dimensional characters in a story that doesn't give the others a lot of depth. Anyway, it's up to the temple master Oogway (Randall Duk Kim), an ancient turtle, to make the final selection, and he chooses -- yes, he chooses the hapless and pudgy Po. The story then becomes essentially a series of action sequences, somewhat undermined by the fact that the combatants seem unable to be hurt, even if they fall from dizzying heights and crack stones open with their heads. There's an extended combat with Tai Lung on a disintegrating suspension bridge (haven't we seen that before?), hand-to-hand-to-tail combat with Po and Tai Lung, and upstaging everything, an energetic competition over a single dumpling. "Kung Fu Panda" is not one of the great recent animated films. The story is way too predictable, and truth to tell, Po himself didn't overwhelm me with his charisma. But it's elegantly drawn, the action sequences are packed with energy, and it's short enough that older viewers will be forgiving. For the kids, of course, all this stuff is much of a muchness, and here they go again. 电影《卢旺达饭店》 Hotel Rwanda ---- a story of an African Schinderler Hotel Rwanda is a film about a man. It was based on a real story of a man who saved 1268 people’s lives in a madness genocidal, which happened in Rwanda, 1994. The film was directed by Terry George, 2004. The main actor Don Cheadle is not handsome but just an ordinary man. You probably will even not recognize him when you happen to meet him on the street. He acted a hero based on a true story, a man who was as simple as he is, Paul Rusesabagina. Paul is a hero, a real man, while a hero and a real man doesn’t always need to be handsome or attractive in the appearance. There are two nations in Rwanda, hutu and tutsi. Paul is a hutu manager working for a 4 stars hotel on town. The hutu army planed a genocidal to clear out all the tutsi people in ruwanda. The tutsi people were suffering a madness blood bath. Over 800,000 people had been killed within 100 days. Paul has a tutsi wife, in order to protect his wife, children and other tutsis; he took them to hide in the hotel Rwanda. There are many white people from all over the world lived in this hotel so the hotel is the safest place in Rwanda to hide. There are 80 UN soldiers in Rwanda but only 4 guarded in the hotel and all of them are not allowed to shot. If we say that Paul just wanted to save his wife at the beginning, after recognized that there is no one would come to help the tutsis, Paul throw himself into the breach. He bribed the hutu general by wine and gold, used out every coin of his to purchase the refugees’ lives, ten, a hundred, 2 hundreds, 3 hundreds… more and more tutsi refugees flee to the hotel wishing to survive. To them, Paul is an angel who keeps a hope for those hopeless people in the calamity. His goodness his mercy is the key to be alive. The hotel Rwanda is a dramatically and war film, ingeniously, there was almost no lens for slaughtering; however, the threatener of death was full filling with the whole movie. One of the tutsi asked Paul, “Why they are so truculence?” “ Hatred? Insanity? … I don’t know.” The event is a humanitarianism disaster and Paul needs no reason to save the lives. When the world closed its eyes, he opened his arms. Facing a madness calamity and crazy crowds, the individual’s power is far from enough. However, Paul saved more than 1000 people’s lives. Paul Rusesabagina is a hero, a real man, an African Schinderler.

A Story by Hans Christian AndersenIN the garden all the apple-trees were in blossom. They had hastened to bring forth flowers before they got green leaves, and in the yard all the ducklings walked up and down, and the cat too: it basked in the sun and licked the sunshine from its own paws. And when one looked at the fields, how beautifully the corn stood and how green it shone, without comparison! and there was a twittering and a fluttering of all the little birds, as if the day were a great festival; and so it was, for it was Sunday. All the bells were ringing, and all the people went to church, looking cheerful, and dressed in their best clothes. There was a look of cheerfulness on everything. The day was so warm and beautiful that one might well have said: “God’s kindness to us men is beyond all limits.” But inside the church the pastor stood in the pulpit, and spoke very loudly and angrily. He said that all men were wicked, and God would punish them for their sins, and that the wicked, when they died, would be cast into hell, to burn for ever and ever. He spoke very excitedly, saying that their evil propensities would not be destroyed, nor would the fire be extinguished, and they should never find rest. That was terrible to hear, and he said it in such a tone of conviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where all the refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hot burning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they, the wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silence surrounded them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacher spoke from his heart, and all the people in the church were terrified. Meanwhile, the birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shining so beautifully warm, it seemed as though every little flower said: “God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits.” Indeed, outside it was not at all like the pastor’s sermon. The same evening, upon going to bed, the pastor noticed his wife sitting there quiet and pensive. “What is the matter with you?” he asked her. “Well, the matter with me is,” she said, “that I cannot collect my thoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day in church—that there are so many wicked people, and that they should burn eternally. Alas! eternally—how long! I am only a woman and a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let even the worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, who is so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes from without and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although you say so.” It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest and severe pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious, faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor’s wife. ...“If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before our Lord you shall certainly do so,” said the pastor. He folded her hands and read a psalm over the dead woman. She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of the earnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for its sun had set for ever. She had gone home. It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor’s head; he opened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shining into his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standing before his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. She fixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just as if she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself in bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, “Not even you can find eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?” The dead woman nodded her head as if to say “Yes,” and put her hand on her breast. “And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?” “Yes,” was the answer. “And how?” “Give me one hair—only one single hair—from the head of the sinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinner whom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell.” “Yes, one ought to be able to redeem you so easily, you pure, pious woman,” he said. “Follow me,” said the dead woman. “It is thus granted to us. By my side you will be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go. Invisible to men, we shall penetrate into their most secret chambers; but with sure hand you must find out him who is destined to eternal torture, and before the cock crows he must be found!” As quickly as if carried by the winged thoughts they were in the great city, and from the walls the names of the deadly sins shone in flaming letters: pride, avarice, drunkenness, wantonness—in short, the whole seven-coloured bow of sin. “Yes, therein, as I believed, as I knew it,” said the pastor, “are living those who are abandoned to the eternal fire.” And they were standing before the magnificently illuminated gate; the broad steps were adorned with carpets and flowers, and dance music was sounding through the festive halls. A footman dressed in silk and velvet stood with a large silver-mounted rod near the entrance. “Our ball can compare favourably with the king’s,” he said, and turned with contempt towards the gazing crowd in the street. What he thought was sufficiently expressed in his features and movements: “Miserable beggars, who are looking in, you are nothing in comparison to me.” “Pride,” said the dead woman; “do you see him?” “The footman?” asked the pastor. “He is but a poor fool, and not doomed to be tortured eternally by fire!” “Only a fool!” It sounded through the whole house of pride: they were all fools there. Then they flew within the four naked walls of the miser. Lean as a skeleton, trembling with cold, and hunger, the old man was clinging with all his thoughts to his money. They saw him jump up feverishly from his miserable couch and take a loose stone out of the wall; there lay gold coins in an old stocking. They saw him anxiously feeling over an old ragged coat in which pieces of gold were sewn, and his clammy fingers trembled. “He is ill! That is madness—a joyless madness—besieged by fear and dreadful dreams!” They quickly went away and came before the beds of the criminals; these unfortunate people slept side by side, in long rows. Like a ferocious animal, one of them rose out of his sleep and uttered a horrible cry, and gave his comrade a violent dig in the ribs with his pointed elbow, and this one turned round in his sleep: “Be quiet, monster—sleep! This happens every night!” “Every night!” repeated the other. “Yes, every night he comes and tortures me! In my violence I have done this and that. I was born with an evil mind, which has brought me hither for the second time; but if I have done wrong I suffer punishment for it. One thing, however, I have not yet confessed. When I came out a little while ago, and passed by the yard of my former master, evil thoughts rose within me when I remembered this and that. I struck a match a little bit on the wall; probably it came a little too close to the thatched roof. All burnt down—a great heat rose, such as sometimes overcomes me. I myself helped to rescue cattle and things, nothing alive burnt, except a flight of pigeons, which flew into the fire, and the yard dog, of which I had not thought; one could hear him howl out of the fire, and this howling I still hear when I wish to sleep; and when I have fallen asleep, the great rough dog comes and places himself upon me, and howls, presses, and tortures me. Now listen to what I tell you! You can snore; you are snoring the whole night, and I hardly a quarter of an hour!” And the blood rose to the head of the excited criminal; he threw himself upon his comrade, and beat him with his clenced fist in the face. “Wicked Matz has become mad again!” they said amongst themselves. The other criminals seized him, wrestled with him, and bent him double, so that his head rested between his knees, and they tied him, so that the blood almost came out of his eyes and out of all his pores. “You are killing the unfortunate man,” said the pastor, and as he stretched out his hand to protect him who already suffered too much, the scene changed. They flew through rich halls and wretched hovels; wantonness and envy, all the deadly sins, passed before them. An angel of justice read their crimes and their defence; the latter was not a brilliant one, but it was read before God, Who reads the heart, Who knows everything, the wickedness that comes from within and from without, Who is mercy and love personified. The pastor’s hand trembled; he dared not stretch it out, he did not venture to pull a hair out of the sinner’s head. And tears gushed from his eyes like a stream of mercy and love, the cooling waters of which extinguished the eternal fire of hell. Just then the cock crowed. “Father of all mercy, grant Thou to her the peace that I was unable to procure for her!” “I have it now!” said the dead woman. “It was your hard words, your despair of mankind, your gloomy belief in God and His creation, which drove me to you. Learn to know mankind! Even in the wicked one lives a part of God—and this extinguishes and conquers the flame of hell!” The pastor felt a kiss on his lips; a gleam of light surrounded him—God’s bright sun shone into the room, and his wife, alive, sweet and full of love, awoke him from a dream which God had sent him!

Four seasons of a treeDon’t judge a life by one difficult season.There was a man. He had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn not to judge things to go and look at a pear tree that was far away.The first son went in the winter ,the second in the spring the third in summer ,the youngest son in fall. when they had all gone and come back ,he called them together to describe what they had seen.The first son said that the tree was ugly ,bent and weak .the second son said no-it was covered with green buds and full of promise. the third son said it was laden with blossoms and they smelt so sweet and looked so besutiful.the last son disgreed with all of them ,he said it was ripe and droop with fruit ,full of life and fulfilmen. The man then said to his sons that they were all right,because they each had seen but only one season in the tree's life.he told them that they cannot judge a tree or a person,by only one season,and that the essence of who they are--the pleasure, the joy and love that come from that life --can only be measured at the end , when all the seasons are up . if you give up when it is winter ,you will miss the promise of your spring,the beauty of your summer ,the fulfilment of your fall .don' let the pain of one season destory the joy of all the rest.不要只在某人某段艰难的岁月里去判断他的一生。从前，一个父亲有4个儿子。他希望儿子们能学会凡事勿匆下结论，于是轮番派遣他们到很远的地方去寻一棵梨树。 大儿子是冬天去的，二儿子春天启程，老三去时已是炎热的夏季，老么于金秋时节踏上了征程。 待他们全都寻树归来以后，父亲把他们叫到一起，听他们各自描述自己的所见。 大儿子数落说大树枝弯干斜，很难看。二儿子连忙否认，说树上发满嫩绿的新芽，生机盎然。老三不同意了，树上明明开满鲜花，吐露芬芳，漂亮极了。 他们的说法实在让老么哑然，枝头上坠满的难道不是累累果实，在彰显生机与收获吗？ 父亲解释说，儿子们的说法都没错，因为他们看到的是大树一年四个季节里的不同情景。 他告诉儿子们说，不能以一季来判断树，更不能以一时来判断人，因为人之本质——源自他们喜、乐、爱的根本——只有在其生之了结时，才可盖棺论定。 倘若你在冬季就已放弃，那无疑会错过春季的生机、夏季的美丽和秋季的收益。勿为一季的痛苦而破坏了所有的欢乐。