2023年晨读英语六级美文百篇.doc

晨读英语美文100篇六级
Passage 1. knowledge and Virtue
Knowledge is one thing, virtue is another;
good sense is not conscience, refinement is not humility,
nor is largeness and justness of view faith.
Philosophy, however enlightened, however profound,
gives no command over the passions, no influential motives, no vivifying principles.
Liberal Education makes not the Christian, not the Catholic, but the gentleman.
It is well to be a gentleman,
it is well to have a cultivated intellect, a delicate taste,
a candid, equitable, dispassionate mind,
a noble and courteous bearing in the conduct of life
—these are the connatural qualities of a large knowledge;
they are the objects of a University.
I am advocating, I shall illustrate and insist upon them;
but still, I repeat, they are no guarantee for sanctity or even for conscientiousness,
and they may attach to the man of the world, to the profligate,
to the heartless, pleasant, alas, and attractive as he shows when decked out in them.
Taken by themselves, they do but seem to be what they are not;
they look like virtue at a distance, but they are detected by close observers, and in the long run;
and hence it is that they are popularly accused of pretense and hypocrisy,
not, I repeat, from their own fault,
but because their professors and their admirers persist in taking them for what they are not,
and are officious in arrogating for them a praise to which they have no claim.
Quarry the granite rock with razors, or moor the vessel with a thread of silk,
then may you hope with such keen and delicate instruments as human knowledge
and human reason to contend against those giants,
Passage 2. “Packing” a Person
A person, like a commodity, needs packaging.
But going too far is absolutely undesirable.
A little exaggeration, however, does no harm
when it shows the person's unique qualities to their advantage.
To display personal charm in a casual and natural way,
it is important for one to have a clear knowledge of oneself.
A master packager knows how to integrate art and nature without any traces of embellishment,
so that the person so packaged is no commodity but a human being, lively and lovely.
A young person, especially a female, radiant with beauty and full of life,
has all the favor granted by God.
Any attempt to make up would be self-defeating.
Youth, however, comes and goes in a moment of doze.
Packaging for the middle-aged is primarily to conceal the furrows ploughed by time.
If you still enjoy life's exuberance enough to retain self-confidence
and pursue pioneering work, you are unique in your natural qualities,
and your charm and grace will remain.
Elderly people are beautiful if their river of life has been,
through plains, mountains and jungles, running its course as it should.
You have really lived your life which now arrives at a complacent stage of serenity
indifferent to fame or wealth.
There is no need to resort to hair-dyeing；
the snow-capped mountain is itself a beautiful scene of fairyland.
Let your looks change from young to old synchronizing with the natural ageing process
so as to keep in harmony with nature, for harmony itself is beauty,
while the other way round will only end in unpleasantness.
To be in the elder's company is like reading a thick book of deluxe edition
that fascinates one so much as to be reluctant to part with.
As long as one finds where one stands, one knows how to package oneself,
just as a commodity establishes its brand by the right packaging.
Passage 3. Three Passions I Have Lived for
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life:
the longing for love, the search for knowledge,
and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind.
These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither,
in a wayward course over a deep ocean of anguish,
reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy
—ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life
for a few hours for this joy.
I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness
—that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness
looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss.
I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen,
in a mystic miniature,
the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined.
This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life,
this is what—at last—I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge.
I have wished to understand the hearts of men.
I have wished to know why the stars shine ...
A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens.
But always pity brought me back to earth.
Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart.
Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people
—a hated burden to their sons,
and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be.
I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life.
I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again
if the chance were offered me.
Passage 4. A Little Girl
Sitting on a grassy grave, beneath one of the windows of the church, was a little girl.
With her head bent back she was gazing up at the sky and singing,
while one of her little hands was pointing to a tiny cloud
that hovered like a golden feather above her head.
The sun, which had suddenly become very bright, shining on her glossy hair,
gave it a metallic luster, and it was difficult to say what was the color, dark bronze or black.
So completely absorbed was she in watching the cloud to which her strange song or incantation seemed addressed,
that she did not observe me when I rose and went towards her.
Over her head, high up in the blue,
a lark that was soaring towards the same gauzy cloud was singing, as if in rivalry.
As I slowly approached the child,
I could see by her forehead, which in the sunshine seemed like a globe of pearl,
and especially by her complexion, that she uncommonly lovely.
Her eyes, which at one moment seemed blue-gray, at another violet,
were shaded by long black lashes, curving backward in a most peculiar way,
and these matched in hue her eyebrows,
and the tresses that were tossed about her tender throat were quivering in the sunlight.
All this I did not take in at once;
for at first I could see nothing but those quivering, glittering, changeful eyes turned up into my face.
Gradually the other features, especially the sensitive full-lipped mouth,
grew upon me as I stood silently gazing.
Here seemed to me a more perfect beauty than had ever come to me in my loveliest dreams of beauty.
Yet it was not her beauty so much as the look she gave me that fascinated me, melted me.
Passage 5 Declaration of Independence
When in the Course of human events,
it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands
which have connected them with another,
and to assume among the powers of the earth,
the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them,
a decent respect to the opinions of mankind
requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,

that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,
that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men,
deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,
—That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends,
it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it,
and to institute new Government,
laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form,
as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
Prudence indeed, will dictate that Governments long established
should not be changed for light and transient causes;
and accordingly all experience has shown,
that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable,
than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.
But when a long train of abuses and usurpations,
pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them
under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty,
to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.
—Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies;
and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government.

is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations,
all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States.
To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
Passage 6. A Tribute to the Dog
The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy.
His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful.
Those who are nearest and dearest to us,
those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name,
may become traitors to their faith.
The money that a man has he may lose.
It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most.
A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action.
The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us
may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world,
the one that never deserts him,
the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.
A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness.
He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely,
if only he may be near his master’s side.
He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer;
he will lick the wounds and sores that come from encounter with the roughness of the world.
He will guard the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince.
When all other friends desert, he remains.
When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces,
he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journeys through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth, an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless,
the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him,
to guard him against danger, to fight against his enemies.
And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace,
and his body is laid away in the cold ground,
no matter if all other friends pursue their way,
there by the grave will the noble dog be found,
his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness,
faithful and true even in death.
Passage 7. Knowledge and Progress
Why does the idea of progress loom so large in the modern world?
Surely because progress of a particular kind is actually taking place around us
and is becoming more and more manifest.
Although mankind has undergone no general improvement in intelligence or morality,
it has made extraordinary progress in the accumulation of knowledge.
Knowledge began to increase as soon as the thoughts of one individual
could be communicated to another by means of speech.
With the invention of writing， a great advance was made,
for knowledge could then be not only communicated but also stored.
Libraries made education possible, and education in its turn added to libraries:
the growth of knowledge followed a kind of compound interest law,
which was greatly enhanced by the invention of printing.
All this was comparatively slow until, with the coming of science,
the tempo was suddenly raised.
Then knowledge began to be accumulated according to a systematic plan.
The trickle became a stream;
the stream has now become a torrent.
Moreover, as soon as new knowledge is acquired, it is now turned to practical account.
What is called “modern civilization” is not the result of a balanced development of all man's nature,
but of accumulated knowledge applied to practical life.
The problem now facing humanity is:
What is going to be done with all this knowledge?
As is so often pointed out, knowledge is a two-edged weapon
which can be used equally for good or evil.
It is now being used indifferently for both.
Could any spectacle, for instance, be more grimly weird
than that of gunners using science to shatter men's bodies while, close at hand,
surgeons use it to restore them?
We have to ask ourselves very seriously what will happen if this twofold use of knowledge,
with its ever-increasing power, continues.
Passage 8. Address by Engels
On the 14th of March, at a quarter to three in the afternoon,
the greatest living thinker ceased to think.
He had been left alone for scarcely two minutes,
and when we came back we found him in his armchair,
peacefully gone to sleep—but forever.
An immeasurable loss has been sustained both by the militant proletariat of Europe and America,
and by historical science, in the death of this man.
The gap that has been left by the departure of this mighty spirit
will soon enough make itself felt.
Just as Darwin discovered the law of development of organic nature,
so Marx discovered the law of development of human history:
the simple fact, hitherto concealed by an overgrowth of ideology,
that mankind must first of all eat, drink, have shelter and clothing,
before it can pursue politics, science, art, religion, etc.;
that therefore the production of the immediate material means of subsistence
and consequently the degree of economic development attained by a given people
or during a given epoch form the foundation upon which the state institutions,
the legal conceptions, art, and even the ideas on religion,
of the people concerned have been evolved, and in the light of which they must, therefore,
be explained, instead of vice versa, as had hitherto been the case.
But that is not all.
Marx also discovered the special law of motion governing the present-day capitalist mode of production
and the bourgeois society that this mode of production has created.
The discovery of surplus value suddenly threw light on the problem,
in trying to solve which all previous investigations,
of both bourgeois economists and socialist critics, had been groping in the dark.
Two such discoveries would be enough for one lifetime.
Happy the man to whom it is granted to make even one such discovery.
But in every single field which Marx investigated—and he investigated very many fields,
none of them superficially—in every field, even in that of mathematics,
he made independent discoveries.
Passage 9. Relati