英語短篇小說投稿

A. 有什麼英語短篇小說推薦

1. 「A Good Man is Hard to Find,」 Flannery O』Connor

Few short stories have stuck with us as much as this one, which is probably O'Connor's most famous work — and with good reason. The Misfit is one of the most alarming serial killers we've ever met, all the more so for his politeness, and the story』s moral is so striking and terrifying that — whether you subscribe to the religious undertones or not — a reader is likely to finish and begin to reexamine their entire existence. Or at least we did, the first time we read it.
《好人難尋》這篇小說是奧康納最為著名的作品，很少有其他短篇小說能像這篇一樣給我們帶來震撼。無論你是否能明了宗教般的潛在含義，看完這篇小說讀者都會開始或是結束對存在的檢視。

2. 「The School,」 Donald Barthelme

This story is very short, but pretty much perfect in every way. Though Barthelme is known for his playful, post modern style, we admire him for his ability to shape a world so clearly from so few words, chosen expertly. Barthelme never over explains, never uses one syllable too many, but effortlessly leads the reader right where he wants her to be. It's funny, it's absurdist, it's sad, it's enormous even in its smallness. It may be this writer』s favorite story of all time. You should read it.
這篇小說很短，但是堪稱完美。巴塞爾姆的優秀就在於他能用精選的極少幾個文字就為我們敘述了一個世界。他很少過多地解釋，就把讀者帶到了他想要你去地方。

3. 「In The Penal Colony,」 Franz Kafka

Kafka called this one his「dirty story,」and thought it imperfect, but it's one of our favorites of his (though we also recommend 「The Hunger Artist」and「A Country Doctor」). It's so obviously a story about writing, in some ultimate way — a machine punishes its victims by writing on them over and over until their bodies give out — but its as if, while the body is the source of every problem in the tale, every weakness, it is also the only place where true knowledge can be translated.
卡夫卡稱自己的這篇小說是一個「很臟的故事」，認為並不完美，但是這個短篇確實我們的最愛之一。在小說中，我們可以體會到，身體是一切問題和弱點的根源，但身體也是唯一能轉化真知的地方。

4. 「Signs and Symbols,」Vladimir Nabokov

Another short one, we revere this story for its ability to turn every tiny detail into a portentous disaster, not to mention the fact that it's penned in Nabokov's effortlessly gorgeous, silvery prose. An old Jewish couple goes to visit their son in the mental hospital, only to be turned away because he has attempted to kill himself. And that's it, really. They go home and look though a photo album, eat some jam. The phonerings. But the whole thing is, perhaps, both a comment on the nature of insanity and the nature of the short story itself, with all its rules and strangeness and banality. And all its symbols, of course.
我們喜歡這篇小說的原因就在於，這個故事有能力把每個細微的細節瞬間變為一場災難，而Nabokov在寫這篇小說用的是輕松華麗水銀瀉地般的散文風格。

5. 「Gooseberries,」 Anton Chekhov

Chekhov's stories are indisputably among the greats, and this one, written rather late, is one of our favorites. Chekhov probes at both the frailty and the worth of humanity, not to mention the natureof life, both for the fortunate and the unfortunate. But like most of Chekhov's stories, there's no clear moral, there's no obvious takeaway. Some men sit around and discuss their thoughts, and we listen, mulling over the subtleties for ourselves.
契科夫的小說無疑是最偉大的作品之一，而這篇是我們的最愛。這篇小說像他的其他小說一樣，沒有清晰的道德標准，我們只是靜靜地看著幾個人圍坐著，討論他們的思想。

6. 「Sea Oak,」 George Saunders

「Sea Oak」 is Saunders's favorite of his own stories, we've heard, so because we find it so hard to choose among them, we've included it here on his own recommendation. Absurdist and satirical, and including at least one zombie shouting at her housemates to get laid, it's a weird one. But it's also concerned with placelessness, with family, with poverty, and like all of Saunders's stories, has a good, thumping heart under all that darkness and fun-poking.

這部小說是桑德斯最為喜愛的一步短篇，這也是我們聽說的。因為我們很難做出選擇，因此就把他自己的推介放在了這里。這部小說充滿了荒誕和諷刺，但是也關心家庭和貧窮等問題。像他的其他小說一樣，在黑暗和取笑中，也暗含著美好和快樂。

7. 「The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,」 Ursula K. LeGuin

LeGuin's parabolic tale, which won the Hugo Award for best short story in 1974, is a weird, spacious story about a city that seems to be a utopia — except for its one flaw, the single child that must always be kept in darkness and wretched misery so that the others may all live happily. Most of the citizens eventually accept this, but some do not, and silently leave the city, vanishing into the world around. Strange but pointed, Le Guin is a master of her genre.
勒古這部寓言般的短篇小說獲得過1974年的「雨果獎」，是關於一個類似烏托邦的城市的荒誕又宏大的故事。

8. 「The Veldt,」 Ray Bradbury

This tale, from one of the greatest science fiction writers in history, is deliciously wicked. Though it was written in 1950, this kind of story — of children driven mad by want, of technology turning on its masters — will never get old. Until technology actually turns on us, that is. Then we probably won't want to hear about it.
布萊伯利作為歷史上最富盛名的科幻小說家，這篇小說也是通過精心編寫的。

9. 「The Bear Came Over the Mountain,」 Alice Munro

The undisputed queen of the short story, Alice Munro』s work is stark and often heartbreakingly raw, and this story of memory loss and the aching tenderness of human interaction is no different. Fun fact: this story was adapted into the film 「Away from Her」, starring Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent.

門羅是毫無爭議的短篇小說女王，她的作品有一種朴實風格，常常帶著心跳般的粗獷，這篇關於喪失記憶以及人類互動中的痛苦和柔弱的小說也不例外。

10. 「The Nose,」 Nikolai Gogol

Gogol might be the oldest writer on this list, but he』s also one of the weirdest — in a good way. Nabokov once wrote, 「In Gogol…the absurd central character belongs to the absurd world around him but, pathetically and tragically, attempts to struggle out of it into the world of humans — and dies in despair.」 What else can an absurd noseless man do, after all?
果戈里應該是這個書單上最久遠的作家了，但是他也是最荒誕的小說家之一。納博科夫曾近這樣寫道：「在果戈里的作品中，荒誕的人物屬於他周圍荒誕的世界，但是卻可憐兮兮且悲慘地要逃離他的世界，最終死於絕望」。

B. 急需一個英文短篇小說 500〜800字！求快！要原創型的！

El Sordo was making his fight on a hilltop. He did not like this hill and when he saw it he thought it had the shape of a chancre. But he had had no choice except this hill and he had picked it as far away as he could see it and galloped for it, the automatic rifle heavy on his back, the horse laboring, barrel heaving between his thighs, the sack of grenades swinging against one side, the sack of automatic rifle pans banging against the other, and Joaqu璯 and Ignacio halting and firing, halting and firing to give him time to get the gun in place.
There had still been snow then, the snow that had ruined them, and when his horse was hit so that he wheezed in a slow, jerking, climbing stagger up the last part of the crest, splattering the snow with a bright, pulsing jet, Sordo had hauled him along by the bridle, the reins over his shoulder as he climbed. He climbed as hard as he could with the bullets spatting on the rocks, with the two sacks heavy on his shoulders, and then, holding the horse by the mane, had shot him quickly, expertly, and tenderly just where he had needed him, so that the horse pitched, head forward down to plug a gap between two rocks. He had gotten the gun to firing over the horse's back and he fired two pans, the gun clattering, the empty shells pitching into the snow, the smell of burnt hair from the burnt hide where the hot muzzle rested, him firing at what came up to the hill, forcing them to scatter for cover, while all the time there was a chill in his back from not knowing what was behind him. Once the last of the five men had reached the hilltop the chill went out of his back and he had saved the pans he had left until he would need them.
There were two more horses dead along the slope and three more were dead here on the hilltop. He had only succeeded in stealing three horses last night and one had bolted when they tried to mount him bareback in the corral at the camp when the first shooting had started.
Of the five men who had reached the hilltop three were wounded. Sordo was wounded in the calf of his leg and in two places in his left arm. He was very thirsty, his wounds had stiffened, and one of the wounds in his left arm was very painful. He also had a bad headache and as he lay waiting for the planes to come he thought of a joke in Spanish. It was, "_Hay que tomar la muerte como si fuera aspirina_," which means, "You will have to take death as an aspirin." But he did not make the joke aloud. He grinned somewhere inside the pain in his head and inside the nausea that came whenever he moved his arm and looked around at what there was left of his band.
The five men were spread out like the points of a five-pointed star. They had g with their knees and hands and made mounds in front of their heads and shoulders with the dirt and piles of stones. Using this cover, they were linking the indivial mounds up with stones and dirt. Joaqu璯, who was eighteen years old, had a steel helmet that he g with and he passed dirt in it.
He had gotten this helmet at the blowing up of the train. It had a bullet hole through it and every one had always joked at him for keeping it. But he had hammered the jagged edges of the bullet hole smooth and driven a wooden plug into it and then cut the plug off and smoothed it even with the metal inside the helmet.
When the shooting started he had clapped this helmet on his head so hard it banged his head as though he had been hit with a casserole and, in the last lung-aching, leg-dead, mouth-dry, bulletspatting, bullet-cracking, bullet-singing run up the final slope of the hill after his horse was killed, the helmet had seemed to weigh a great amount and to ring his bursting forehead with an iron band. But he had kept it. Now he g with it in a steady, almost machinelike desperation. He had not yet been hit.
"It serves for something finally," Sordo said to him in his deep, throaty voice.
"_Resistir y fortificar es vencer_," Joaqu璯 said, his mouth stiff with the dryness of fear which surpassed the normal thirst of battle. It was one of the slogans of the Communist party and it meant, "Hold out and fortify, and you will win."
Sordo looked away and down the slope at where a cavalryman was sniping from behind a boulder. He was very fond of this boy and he was in no mood for slogans.
"What did you say?"
One of the men turned from the building that he was doing. This man was lying flat on his face, reaching carefully up with his hands to put a rock in place while keeping his chin flat against the ground.
Joaqu璯 repeated the slogan in his dried-up boy's voice without checking his digging for a moment.
"What was the last word?" the man with his chin on the ground asked.
"_Vencer_," the boy said. "Win."
"_Mierda_," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"There is another that applies to here," Joaqu璯 said, bringing them out as though they were talismans, "Pasionaria says it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
"_Mierda_ again," the man said and another man said, over his shoulder, "We're on our bellies, not our knees."
"Thou. Communist. Do you know your Pasionaria has a son thy age in Russia since the start of the movement?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said.
"_Qu?va_, it's a lie," the other said. "The dynamiter with the rare name told me. He was of thy party, too. Why should he lie?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said. "She would not do such a thing as keep a son hidden in Russia out of the war."
"I wish I were in Russia," another of Sordo's men said. "Will not thy Pasionaria send me now from here to Russia, Communist?"
"If thou believest so much in thy Pasionaria, get her to get us off this hill," one of the men who had a bandaged thigh said.
"The fascists will do that," the man with his chin in the dirt said.
"Do not speak thus," Joaqu璯 said to him.
"Wipe the pap of your mother's breasts off thy lips and give me a hatful of that dirt," the man with his chin on the ground said. "No one of us will see the sun go down this night."
El Sordo was thinking: It is shaped like a chancre. Or the breast of a young girl with no nipple. Or the top cone of a volcano. You have never seen a volcano, he thought. Nor will you ever see one. And this hill is like a chancre. Let the volcanos alone. It's late now for the volcanos.
He looked very carefully around the withers of the dead horse and there was a quick hammering of firing from behind a boulder well down the slope and he heard the bullets from the submachine gun thud into the horse. He crawled along behind the horse and looked out of the angle between the horse's hindquarters and the rock. There were three bodies on the slope just below him where they had fallen when the fascists had rushed the crest under cover of the automatic rifle and submachine gunfire and he and the others had broken down the attack by throwing and rolling down hand grenades. There were other bodies that he could not see on the other sides of the hill crest. There was no dead ground by which attackers could approach the summit and Sordo knew that as long as his ammunition and grenades held out and he had as many as four men they could not get him out of there unless they brought up a trench mortar. He did not know whether they had sent to La Granja for a trench mortar. Perhaps they had not, because surely, soon, the planes would come. It had been four hours since the observation plane had flown over them.
This hill is truly like a chancre, Sordo thought, and we are the very pus of it. But we killed many when they made that stupidness. How could they think that they would take us thus? They have such modern armament that they lose all their sense with overconfidence. He had killed the young officer who had led the assault with a grenade that had gone bouncing and rolling down the slope as they came up it, running, bent half over. In the yellow flash and gray roar of smoke he had seen the officer dive forward to where he lay now like a heavy, broken bundle of old clothing marking the farthest point that the assault had reached. Sordo looked at this body and then, down the hill, at the others.
They are brave but stupid people, he thought. But they have sense enough now not to attack us again until the planes come. Unless, of course, they have a mortar coming. It would be easy with a mortar. The mortar was the normal thing and he knew that they would die as soon as a mortar came up, but when he thought of the planes coming up he felt as naked on that hilltop as though all of his clothing and even his skin had been removed. There is no nakeder thing than I feel, he thought. A flayed rabbit is as well covered as a bear in comparison. But why should they bring planes? They could get us out of here with a trench mortar easily. They are proud of their planes, though, and they will probably bring them. Just as they were so proud of their automatic weapons that they made that stupidness. But undoubtedly they must have sent for a mortar too.
One of the men fired. Then jerked the bolt and fired again, quickly.
"Save thy cartridges," Sordo said.
"One of the sons of the great whore tried to reach that boulder," the man pointed.
"Did you hit him?" Sordo asked, turning his head with difficulty.
"Nay," the man said. "The fornicator cked back."
"Who is a whore of whores is Pilar," the man with his chin in the dirt said. "That whore knows we are dying here."
"She could do no good," Sordo said. The man had spoken on the side of his good ear and he had heard him without turning his head. "What could she do?"
"Take these sluts from the rear."
"_Qu?va_," Sordo said. "They are spread around a hillside. How would she come on them? There are a hundred and fifty of them. Maybe more now."
"But if we hold out until dark," Joaqu璯 said.
"And if Christmas comes on Easter," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"And if thy aunt had _cojones_ she would be thy uncle," another said to him. "Send for thy Pasionaria. She alone can help us."
"I do not believe that about the son," Joaqu璯 said. "Or if he is there he is training to be an aviator or something of that sort."
"He is hidden there for safety," the man told him.
"He is studying dialectics. Thy Pasionaria has been there. So have Lister and Modesto and others. The one with the rare name told me."
"That they should go to study and return to aid us," Joaqu璯 said.
"That they should aid us now," another man said. "That all the cruts of Russian sucking swindlers should aid us now." He fired and said, "_Me cago en tal_; I missed him again."
"Save thy cartridges and do not talk so much or thou wilt be very thirsty," Sordo said. "There is no water on this hill."
"Take this," the man said and rolling on his side he pulled a wineskin that he wore slung from his shoulder over his head and handed it to Sordo. "Wash thy mouth out, old one. Thou must have much thirst with thy wounds."
"Let all take it," Sordo said.
"Then I will have some first," the owner said and squirted a long stream into his mouth before he handed the leather bottle around.
"Sordo, when thinkest thou the planes will come?" the man with his chin in the dirt asked.
"Any time," said Sordo. "They should have come before."
"Do you think these sons of the great whore will attack again?"
"Only if the planes do not come."
He did not think there was any need to speak about the mortar. They would know it soon enough when the mortar came.
"God knows they've enough planes with what we saw yesterday."
"Too many," Sordo said.
His head hurt very much and his arm was stiffening so that the pain of moving it was almost unbearable. He looked up at the bright, high, blue early summer sky as he raised the leather wine bottle with his good arm. He was fifty-two years old and he was sure this was the last time he would see that sky.
He was not at all afraid of dying but he was angry at being trapped on this hill which was only utilizable as a place to die. If we could have gotten clear, he thought. If we could have made them come up the long valley or if we could have broken loose across the road it would have been all right. But this chancre of a hill. We must use it as well as we can and we have used it very well so far.
If he had known how many men in history have had to use a hill to die on it would not have cheered him any for, in the moment he was passing through, men are not impressed by what has happened to other men in similar circumstances any more than a widow of one day is helped by the knowledge that other loved husbands have died. Whether one has fear of it or not, one's death is difficult to accept. Sordo had accepted it but there was no sweetness in its acceptance even at fifty-two, with three wounds and him surrounded on a hill.
He joked about it to himself but he looked at the sky and at the far mountains and he swallowed the wine and he did not want it. If one must die, he thought, and clearly one must, I can die. But I hate it.
Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the st of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.

C. 英語短篇小說

The last leaf (a script) Ting \ Muzi Cast: props: Aside: bed-yan, a few paintings, leaves, instant noodles Susan: actor-man clothing, hats, music WEST HAINAN: Ting Door Bell: Quarter 1,2,3,4 neighbors: Xia, Cong, Qi, Jing Music sounded ... ... Aside: the late autumn in New York, the usual bustling and noisy lost all that had to be attributed to cold, invisible to the naked eye, the uninvited guest, doctors told him to "pneumonia." The destroyer in the streets of New York flagrant follow step down on all of a sudden more than a dozen victims. Washington Square in the west side of a hut, his hand and knocked down a west wind blowing in California was not the color Ruonv Zi. WEST HAINAN lying on a painted iron bed, motionless, staring out the window opposite the Netherlands-brick walls of the space. In the early morning ... ... Susan: WEST HAINAN. WEST HAINAN: Oh, Susan you back. (Weakly) Susan: I come back. (She reached the bedside, holding her hand) WEST HAINAN: a doctor he is gone? Susan: he is gone. I am not a doctor, he would lead the way, he afraid, I am afraid it is also a lifetime can not get out of this maze-like a small alley! (With a resentment) WEST HAINAN: 12,11,10 ... ... Susan: WEST HAINAN, what do you have a few? WEST HAINAN: that the window of ivy leaves less and less, but a good number. (Sad) Susan: What it leaves those few, carefully cold, I went to the curtains in one way or another! WEST HAINAN: No, do not! (Urgent) Susan: well, I do not pull, to come to lie down, do not go to a good number of those leaves? WEST HAINAN: poor leaf, not a soon left the ... ... afraid I do not catch cold? Go to heaven, not afraid of anything. Susan: nonsense, the doctor just said that he told me that you are going to a good, he said that you are so young and so beautiful, such a small point of how disease might hurt you? This is the doctor said to me! (Holding her hand and a tighter) WEST HAINAN: Susan, looked at me, you cried, do not deny that if I healed quickly, then why do you cry? I am poor, I do not silly. I have read the newspapers, the influenza-inced pneumonia has claimed the lives of many people, me, and I was next. Susan: No! They will not. WEST HAINAN: This is like the leaves of the Federation of drop-off, and so on that last leaf to fall, I had to leave. Narration: WEST HAINAN pale, lying quietly, Xiang Yizun live down the collapse of the statue, she said, eyes closed ... ... WEST HAINAN: I want to watch because it's the last rattan leaves fall off. I get impatient, and so on. Would like to get impatient. I think out of all, as a poor, tired of the rattan leaves, long way down Gone with the Wind, Gone with the Wind ... ... Music sounded ... ... Susan: I said you stupid you are stupid, so young and so beautiful you are, how can their lives and it leaves a little to link them? I said that you should not, I can not say so, I said that you should not WEST HAINAN. (With tearful voice) WEST HAINAN: Susan, I Bieguai, I do not want to leave you, do not want to leave this world, I could have been the best. This leaves just as it did not want to fall, but it does not have the strength. Susan: No, WEST HAINAN. We do not want those leaves, please? Let's think about those things better, let us think of the Gulf of Naples, think of Van Gogh's hometown, think of the Seine in Paris. WEST HAINAN: hey, right right, we have agreed to go to Europe, to realize our dream to become an artist.

D. 英語短篇美文4篇

1、If not to the sun for smiling, warm is still in the sun there, but wewill laugh more confident calm; if turned to found his own shadow, appropriate escape, the sun will be through the heart,warm each place behind the corner; if an outstretched palm cannot fall butterfly, then clenched waving arms, given power; if I can't have bright smile, it will face to the sunshine, and sunshine smile together, in full bloom.

譯文：如果不向太陽索取微笑,溫暖仍在太陽那裡,但我們會笑得更加自信從容；如果轉過身去發現了自己的影子,適當的躲讓,陽光便可穿越心靈,溫暖每一處身後的角落；如果攤開的掌心不能點落蝴蝶,那就緊握成拳揮動臂膀,給予力量；如果我不能夠微笑得燦爛,那就將臉投向燦爛的陽光,與陽光一起微笑,爛漫。

2、When you love who you are,you become a conit of light.Just drop into your heart space,and live life from this view.For all of this doingis not who you are.Listen to your heart』s soft whisper,this voice will show you the way.Live life from your essenceis what she will say.See the light in yourself,and your world will be bright.There is no need to worry,you are exactly as you should be;remember to love who you are,and love you will see.

譯文：當你愛自己的時候，你會成為一道光。只需觸及心房，並遵循本心來生活。做這一切無關你是誰。聆聽內心輕柔的呢喃，她會告訴你方法。遵循本性來生活她會這樣告訴你。欣賞自身的光芒，你的世界都會變得明亮。沒必要擔心，你正是自己本來的模樣；記得愛自己，愛自己欣賞的一切。

3、Occasionally, life can be undeniably, impossibly difficult. We are faced with challenges and events that can seem overwhelming, life-destroying to the point where it may be hard to decide whether to keep going. But you always have a choice. Jessica Heslop shares her powerful, inspiring journey from the worst times in her life to the new life she has created for herself.

譯文：生活有時候困難得難以置信，但又不容置疑。我們面臨的挑戰與困境似乎無法抵禦，試圖毀滅我們生活，甚至使你猶疑是否繼續走下去。但是你總有選擇的餘地。從人生低谷走向新生活的傑西卡·赫斯樂普，在這里與我們分享她啟迪心靈、充滿震撼力的生活之旅。

4、So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized, we would have done it differently.

譯文：想像一下你就是這個木匠，想像你正在建造這座房子，你每天釘進一顆釘子、安裝一塊板子或者築起一面牆。請用心對待吧，這是唯一一個你為自己打造的生活。即使你只在裡面住上一天，這一天也要活得有光彩、有尊嚴。正如格言所說，「生活是一個只有靠自己才能完成的項目。」

5、Time is like a river, the left bank is unable to forget the memories, right is worth grasp the youth, the middle of the fast flowing, is the sad young faint. There are many good things, buttruly belong to own but not much. See the courthouse blossom,honor or disgrace not Jing, hope heaven Yunjuanyunshu, has no intention to stay. In this round the world, all can learn to use a normal heart to treat all around, is also a kind of realm!

譯文：歲月就象一條河,左岸是無法忘卻的回憶,右岸是值得把握的青春年華,中間飛快流淌的,是年輕隱隱的傷感.世間有許多美好的東西,但真正屬於自己的卻並不多.看庭前花開花落,榮辱不驚,望天上雲卷雲舒,去留無意.在這個紛繞的世界裡,能夠學會用一顆平常的心去對待周圍的一切,也是一種境界!

6、People always confuse about the meaning of happiness, they don』t know how to define it. Some people think that when one has the successful career or does something that makes contribution to the society is the happiness. It is common that great acts are admired by the public and people are easy to feel the happiness. While in my opinion, happiness is very easy to achieve. When I stay with my family, we have the nice talk and I feel very happy. When I eat the delicious food that is cooked by my mother, I feel moved and happy. Happiness is around everywhere, we can feel it if we treat it right.

譯文：人們總是混淆幸福的含義，他們不知道如何定義幸福。有些人認為，當一個人有了成功的事業或做了對社會有所貢獻的事情時，那就是幸福。人們很欣賞偉大的行為，人們很容易感到幸福。在我看來，幸福是很容易實現的。當我和家人在一起時，我們的談話很愉快，我感到非常高興。當我吃媽媽做的美味的食物時，我感到很開心。幸福無處不在，只要我們善待它，我們就能感受到幸福。

7、When I am making mistakes, my parents will never be angry with me. I am so thankful to them for they are so tolerant with me. I learn many things from my parents, they show me how to be a tolerant person. They will not blame me for the small mistake that I make, instead, they will ecate me in the gentle way. Unlike some parents who are strict to their kids, they will be very angry and said the hurting words, making the children feel sad. Being tolerant to other people』s mistakes is the best way to solve the problem. People will appreciate the kind act and make things goes on the easy way.

譯文：當我犯錯誤的時候，我的父母永遠不會生我的氣。我非常感謝他們，因為他們對我很寬容。我從父母那裡學到很多東西，他們教我如何成為一個寬容的人。他們不會因為我犯的一個小錯誤而責備我，相反，他們會以溫和的方式教育我。不像一些對孩子要求嚴格的父母，他們會很生氣，說那些傷人的話，讓孩子們感到悲傷。寬容別人的錯誤是解決問題的最好辦法。人們會欣賞這種善舉，讓事情變得簡單。

8、Sometimes you dream to be a kind of happiness, sometimes the dream is also a kind of happiness; sometimes is a kind of happiness, sometimes the loss is also a kind of happiness;sometimes success is a kind of happiness, sometimes failure is also a kind of happiness. Sometimes the rich is a kind of happiness, sometimes poverty is also a kind of happiness. "Not happy" today, now can not be "happy", while it may be tomorrow or later become "happiness"!

譯文：有時你的夢想達到是一種幸福,有時夢想破滅也是一種幸福；有時得到是一種幸福,有時失去也是一種幸福；有時成功是一種幸福,有時失敗也是一種幸福.有時富有是一種幸福,有時貧窮也是一種幸福.「不幸福」今天或者現在不能成為「幸福」,而明天或者以後卻可能變成「幸福」!

E. 求篇英文短篇小說，任何體裁都可以，用做上英語課的演講用，600——1000字的左右

It was the day before Easter and Peter Cottontail was very busy.As the Chief Easter Bunny,it was his job to hide all the eggs for all the Easter egg hunts around the world.
時間是復活節之前，皮特很忙。作為主要的復活節兔子，他的工作是將所有的為全世界復活節狩獵所需要的蛋藏起來。
Peter wanted to be sure that he had enough of the beautifully colored eggs for everyone.So he was counting them all.But he kept getting distracted and losing count.
皮特想確定他有充足的為復活節而准備的美麗的彩蛋。所以他正在把它們都數一數。但是他一直分神而忘了數的數字。
First,Peter thought he heard the meow of one little kitten.But he didn't see a kitten.Next he thought he heard two meows from two kittens,but he still didn't see anything.
Then Peter thought he heard three meows from three little kittens.
"Maybe they're outside,"thought Peter.So,he opened the door and sure engough...
開始，皮特想他聽到了一隻小貓的叫聲。但是他看不見一隻小貓。接著他想他聽到了兩只小貓的聲音，但是他依然什麼都看不見。
然後皮特想他看見了三隻小貓的聲音。
「也許他們在外面，」皮特想。所以他打開門來看個清楚...
There sat three unhappy,little kittens.Peter asked them what was wrong.
"We were playing hide-and-seek with our mitten*,"**plained the kittens."We are very good at hiding,but we are not very good at seeking.And now our mittens are lost."
"If you help me count my eggs,then I can help you find your mittens,"Peter told them.
The three little kittens were so happy that they began to dance and sing.
那裡坐著三隻不愉快的小貓。皮特問他們有什麼麻煩。
「我們用我們的拳擊手套玩了『藏了找』的游戲，」小貓們解釋。「我們擅長藏，但是我們不擅長找。現在我們的拳擊手套找不到了。」
「假如你們幫助我數我的蛋，然後我就能夠幫助你們找到你們的拳擊手套，」皮特告訴他們。
那三隻小貓如此地高興以致他們又跳舞又唱歌。
Everyone went into the house and,one-two-three,they counted all the eggs.There were enough eggs for everyone and even three too many.
"Great!"said Peter."It's good to have extra eggs,just in case any break.Now let's find your mittens."
Off went Peter Cottontail and the three little kittens,with Peter Cottontail hopping big-bunny hops and the kittens racing along to keep up.
每個人都進入屋子，一、二、三，他們數了所有的蛋。為每個人准備的蛋是充足的，甚至還多出了三個。
「太好了！」皮特說。「有多餘的蛋很好，恰好預防破蛋的情況。現在讓我們來找你的拳擊手套。」
皮特和三隻小貓走出去，皮特跳著大兔步，而三隻小貓則跑在後面跟著他。
First,they passed a house made of straw-but no one was there.
Next they passed a house made of sticks.No one was home there either.
Finally,they came to a very nice house made of bricks.
Peter and the three kittens knocked on the door of the pretty brick brick.Soon,three little pigs came out to meet them.
"Welcome!Welcome!"said the three little pigs."We are so glad to have visitors.The Big Bad Wolf chased all our friends away and no one visit us anymore.Won't you come in for a while?"
首先，他們經過了一個由稻草製成的房子，但是每人在家。
接著他們來到一個有樹枝做成的房子，也沒人在家。
最後他們來到一個由磚頭製成的房子。
皮特和三隻小貓敲打那個精美的小屋的門。不久，三隻小豬出來迎接他們。
「歡迎！歡迎！」三隻小豬說。「我們很高興有人來拜訪我們。大壞狼趕走了我們的所有的朋友，再也沒人來拜訪我們了。你們不進來呆一會嗎？」
Peter and the kitten* **plained that they were looking for the kittens' lost mittens.This made the kittens so sad that they began to cry.
"Don't cry,little kittens,"said the three pigs."We haven't see any mittens,but you are welcome to look around."
So everyone looked,but they didn't find the kitten's mittens.
皮特和三個小貓解釋他們在尋找小貓丟失的拳擊手套。這件事讓小貓們哭了起來。
「不要哭，小貓，」三隻小豬說，「我們沒有看見什麼拳擊手套。但是歡迎你們在附近找找。」
所以每個人一起看了看，但是他們沒有發現小貓的拳擊手套。
"You should ask Humpty Dumpty,"suggested the three little pigs."He sits so high up on his wall that he sees everything.Maybe he has seen your mittens."
Peter and the three kittens thanked the pigs and said good-bye.Then off they went.
「你們應該問問漢仆.達譜，」三隻小豬建議。「他坐在他家的很高的牆上讓他能看見每件事情。也許他看見了你們的拳擊手套。」
Before long,they came to a very high wall with a strange,little man sitting on top.
"Excuse me,"said Peter Cottontail,"Are you Humpty Dumpty?"
"Yes,I am,"said the man,"How can I help you?"
不久，他們來到一堵非常高的牆面前，一個陌生的，很小的人坐在牆上。
「對不起，」皮特說，「你是漢仆.達譜嗎？」
「是的，」那個人說，「我能幫助你們嗎？」
Once again,the three little kitten* **plained how they lost their mittens.And they became so sad that again they began to cry.
"Do not cry,little kittens,"said Humpty Dumpty."This morning I saw three little kittens hide their mittens in the tall grass next to the Babbling Brook."
The three litten kittens began to dance and sing.
"Now we remember!Thank you,thank you!"they cheered.
三隻小貓把怎麼丟失拳擊手套的事又解釋了一遍。他們如此地傷心以致他們哭了。
「不要哭，小貓，」漢仆.達譜說，「今天早上我看見三隻小貓在胡說河邊的高草中藏他們的拳擊手套。」
三隻小貓開始又跳又唱。
「現在我們記得了！謝謝你，謝謝你！」他們歡呼。

Peter was very happy to have helped the kittens.But suddenly he remembered about Easter.
"Oh no!"he cried."It is almost Easter and I haven't hidden any eggs yet!What will I do?"
皮特很高興幫助了小貓。但是突然他記得了復活節。
「哦，不！」他喊，「幾乎到了復活節了，我還沒有將蛋藏好呢！我該怎麼辦呢？」
"Don't worry."said the three little kittens."You have seen that we are good at hiding things.We will help you hide the eggs."
Peter accepted their help and off everyone rushed,with Peter hopping big-bunny hops and the kittens racing along to keep up.
「不要害怕。」三隻小貓說。「你看見了我們擅長藏東西。我們將幫助你來藏蛋。」
皮特接受了他們的幫助，每個人跑起來，皮特跳著大兔步，小貓們在後面奔跑著追趕。
By Easter morning,everything was finished.Best of all,none of the eggs had broken.So Peter gave the three extra eggs to the three little kittens as thanks for all their help.
到了復活節早上，每件事都完成了。最好的是，沒有一個蛋被弄破。所以皮特將三個多餘的蛋送給了三隻小貓作為對他們的幫助的感謝。
--Henry David Thoreau/享利.大衛.梭羅

However mean your life is,meet it and live it ;do not shun it and call it hard names.It is not so bad as you are.It looks poorest when you are richest.The fault-finder will find faults in paradise.Love your life,poor as it is.You may perhaps have some pleasant,thrilling,glorious hourss,even in a poor-house.The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man's abode;the snow melts before its door as early in the spring.I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there,and have as cheering thoughts,as in a palace.The town's poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any.May be they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving.Most think that they are above being supported by the town;but it often happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means.which should be more disreputable.Cultivate poverty like a garden herb,like sage.Do not trouble yourself much to get new things,whether clothes or friends,Turn the old,return to them.Things do not change;we change.Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.

不論你的生活如何卑賤，你要面對它生活，不要躲避它，更別用惡言咒罵它。它不像你那樣壞。你最富有的時候，倒是看似最窮。愛找缺點的人就是到天堂里也能找到缺點。你要愛你的生活，盡管它貧窮。甚至在一個濟貧院里，你也還有愉快、高興、光榮的時候。夕陽反射在濟貧院的窗上，像身在富戶人家窗上一樣光亮；在那門前，積雪同在早春融化。我只看到，一個從容的人，在哪裡也像在皇宮中一樣，生活得心滿意足而富有愉快的思想。城鎮中的窮人，我看，倒往往是過著最獨立不羈的生活。也許因為他們很偉大，所以受之無愧。大多數人以為他們是超然的，不靠城鎮來支援他們；可是事實上他們是往往利用了不正當的手段來對付生活，他們是毫不超脫的，毋寧是不體面的。視貧窮如園中之花而像聖人一樣耕植它吧！不要找新的花樣，無論是新的朋友或新的衣服，來麻煩你自己。找舊的，回到那裡去。萬物不變，是我們在變。你的衣服可以賣掉，但要保留你的思想。