有关于爱的英语美文阅读
英语美文题材丰富,涉及面广,大多蕴涵人生哲理。引导学生欣赏美文,不仅能提高他们的阅读理解能力,而且能使他们得到美的熏陶,从而提高学生对周围事物的认识。学习啦小编整理了有关于爱的英语美文，欢迎阅读!
有关于爱的英语美文：A Service of Love 爱的奉献
When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.
Joe came out of the Middle West with a genius for pictorial art2. At six he drew a picture of the town pump with an important citizen passing it hurriedly. This work was framed3 and hung in the drug store window. At twenty he left for New York.
Delia did things in music so well in a pine-tree village in the South that her relatives raised a little money for her to go “North” and “finish.” They could not see her, but that is our story.
Joe and Delia met in a studio where a number of art and music students had gathered to discuss all kinds of arts.
Joe and Delia fell in love with each other, and in a short time were married—for, when one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.
The couple began housekeeping in a flat. It was a lonely flat. And they were happy; for they had their Art and they had each other.
Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister—you know his fame. His fees are high; his lessons are light—his high-lights have brought him fame. Delia was studying under Rosenstock—a very strict piano teacher.
They were very happy as long as their money lasted. So is everybody. Their aims were very clear. They hoped their arts could bring them wealth and fame.
But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat—the warm chats after the day’s study; the comfortable dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions4; the mutual help and inspiration; and meat and cheese sandwiches at 11 p. m.
But after a while Art flagged5. It sometimes does, even if nobody flags it. Everything going out and nothing coming in. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Rosenstock their prices. When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard. So, Delia said she must give music lessons to make a living.
For two or three days she went out hunting for pupils. One evening she came home happily.
“Joe, dear,” she said, “I’ve a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General—General Pinkney’s daughter—on Seventy-first Street. Such a splendid house, Joe—you ought to see the front door! Byzantine6. I think you would call it. And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.
“My pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. She’s a delicate thing—dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. I’m to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! a lesson. I don’t mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can once again take up my lessons with Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows7, dear, and let’s have a nice supper.”
“That’s all right for you, Dele,” said Joe, opening a can of peas with a carving knife, “but how about me? Do you think I’m going to let you hurry for wages while I enjoy the taste of high art? No! I guess I can do something, and bring in a dollar or two.”
Delia came and hung about his neck.
“Joe, dear, you are silly. You must keep on at your studies. It is not as if I had left my music and gone to work at something else. While I teach I learn. I am always with my music. And we can live as happily as millionaires on a week. You mustn’t think of leaving Mr. Magister.”
“All right,” said Joe, reaching for the vegetable dish. “But I hate for you to be giving lessons. It isn’t Art. But you’re great and a dear to do it.”
“When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard,” said Delia.
“Magister praised the sky in that sketch8 I made in the park,” said Joe. “And Tinkle gave me permission to hang two of them in his window. I may sell one if the right kind of a rich fellow sees them.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Delia sweetly. “And now let’s be thankful for General Pinkney and this roast.”
During all of the next week the couple had an early breakfast. Joe was excited about some sketches he was doing in Central Park, and Delia prepared breakfast for him, praised, and kissed at seven o’clock. It was most times seven o’clock when he returned in the evening.
At the end of the week Delia, sweetly proud but tired, threw three five-dollar bills on the 8 by 10 (inches) centre table of the 8 by 10 (feet) flat room9.
“Sometimes,” she said, “Clementina tires me. I’m afraid she doesn’t practise enough, and I have to tell her the same things so often. And then she always dresses entirely in white, and that does get monotonous10. But General Pinkney is the dearest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am with Clementina at the piano and stands there pulling his white beard. ‘And how are the semiquavers and the demi-semiquavers progressing11?’ he always asks.
“I wish you could see the wainscoting in that drawing-room, Joe!”
And then Joe, with the air of a Monte Cristo12, drew out a ten, a five, a two and a one—all legal notes13—and laid them beside Delia’s earnings.
“Sold that water-colour to a man from Peoria,” he announced happily.
“Don’t joke with me,” said Delia—“not from Peoria!”
“All the way. I wish you could see him, Dele. Fat man with a woolen coat. He saw the sketch in Tinkle’s window and thought it was a windmill14 and bought it anyhow. He ordered another—an oil sketch of the Lackawanna freight depot15—to take back with him. Music lessons! Oh, I guess Art is still in it.”
“I’m so glad you’ve kept on,” said Delia heartily. “You’re sure to win, dear. Thirty-three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. We’ll have a rich dinner to-night.”
On the next Saturday evening Joe reached home first. He spread his on the table and washed what seemed to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands.
Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps and bandages16.
“How is this?” asked Joe after the usual greetings.
Delia laughed, but not very joyously.
“Clementina,” she explained, “insisted upon a Welsh rabbit17 after her lesson. She is such a strange girl. Welsh rabbits at five in the afternoon. The General was there. You should have seen him run for the chafing dish18, Joe, just as if there wasn’t a servant in the house. I know Clementina isn’t in good health; she is so nervous. In serving the rabbit she spilled19 a great lot of it, boiling hot, over my hand and wrist. It hurt terribly, Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry! But General Pinkney!—Joe, that old man nearly went crazy. He rushed downstairs and sent somebody out to a drug store for some oil and things to bind it up with. It doesn’t hurt so much now.”
“What’s this?” asked Joe, taking the hand softly and pulling at some white strands20 under the bandages.
“It’s something soft,” said Delia, “that had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?” She had seen the money on the table.
“Did I?” said Joe. “Just ask the man from Peoria. He got his sketch today, and he isn’t sure but he thinks he wants another parkscape and a view on the Hudson21. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?”
“Five o’clock, I think,” said Dele . “The iron—I mean the rabbit came off the fire about that time. You ought to have seen General Pinkney, Joe, when—”
“Sit down here a moment, Dele,” said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat down beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.
“What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?” he asked.
She sat in silence for a moment or two with an eye full of love, and murmured a phrase or two of General Pinkney; but at last down went her head and out came the truth and tears.
“I couldn’t get any pupils,” she said. “And I couldn’t bear to have you give up your lessons; and I got a place ironing shirts in that big Twenty-fourth Street laundry22. And I think I did very well to make up both General Pinkney and Clementina, don’t you, Joe? And when a girl in the laundry set down a hot iron on my hand this afternoon I was all the way home making up that story about the Welsh rabbit. You’re not angry, are you, Joe? And if I hadn’t got the work you mightn’t have sold your sketches to that man from Peoria.”
“He wasn’t from Peoria,” said Joe slowly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter where he was from. How clever you are, Joe—and—kiss me, Joe—and what made you ever think that I wasn’t giving music lessons to Clementina?”
“I didn’t,” said Joe, “until to-night. And I wouldn’t have then, only I sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a girl upstairs who had her hand burned with an iron. I’ve been firing the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks.”
“And then you didn’t—”
“My purchaser23 from Peoria,” said Joe, “and General Pinkney are both creations24 of the same art—but you wouldn’t call it either painting or music.”
And then they both laughed, and Joe began:
“When one loves one’s Art no service seems—”
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. “No,” she said—“just ‘When one loves.’”
有关于爱的英语美文：如果这都不算爱
A girl and a boy were on a motorcycle, speeding through the night.
一天里，骑摩托车带着超速行驶
They d each other a lot..
他们彼此深着对方
Girl: Slow down a little. I'm scared...
：“慢一点...我怕...”
Boy: No, it's so fun...
：“不，这样很有趣...”
Girl: Please... it's so scary...
：“求求你...这样太吓人了...”
Boy: Then say that you love me...
男孩：“好吧，那你说你...”
Girl: Fine... I love you... Can you slow down now?
女孩：“好.......你现在可以慢下来了吗?”
Boy: Give me a big hug...
男孩：“紧紧抱我一下...”
The girl gave him a big hug.
女孩牢牢拥抱了他一下
Girl: Now can you slow down?
女孩：“当初你能够慢下来了吧?”
Boy: Can you take off my helmet and put it on? It's uncomfortable and it's bothering me while I drive.
男孩：“你可以脱下我的头盔并本人戴上吗?它让我感到不舒畅，还烦扰我驾车。”
Then next day, there was a story in the newspaper: a motorcycle had crashed into a building because it sbrakes were broken.
第二天，报纸报道：一辆摩托车由于刹车失灵而撞毁在一幢建造物上。
There were two people on the motorcycle, of which one died, and the other had survived...
车上有两个人，一个，一个幸存...
The guy knew that the brakes were broken. He didn't want to let the girl know, because he knew that the girl would have gotten scared.
驾车的男孩晓得刹车失灵，但他不让女孩知道，因为那样会让女孩觉得惧怕。
Instead, he was told the last that she loved him, got a hug from her, put his helmet on her so that she can live, and die himself...
相反，他让最后一次说她爱他，最后一次拥抱他，并让她戴上自己的头盔，成果，女孩活着，他自己逝世了...
Once in a while, right in the middle of anordinary , love gives us a fairytale...
就在一会儿的里，就在平凡的里，爱向咱们展现了一个神话。
有关于爱的英语美文：How selfless real love is 无私的爱
My wife called, ‘How long will you be with that newspaper? Will you come here and make your darling daughter eat her food?
I tossed the paper away and rushed to the scene. My only daughter, Sindu, looked frightened; tears were welling up in her eyes. In front of her was a bowl filled to its brim with curd rice. Sindu is a nice child, quite intelligent for her age.
I cleared my throat and picked up the bowl. ‘Sindu, darling, why don‘t you take a few mouthful of this curd rice? Just for Dad‘s sake, dear‘.
Sindu softened a bit and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. ‘Ok, Dad. I will eat - not just a few mouthfuls, but the whole lot of this. But, you should...‘ Sindu hesitated. ‘Dad, if I eat this entire curd Rice, will you give me whatever I ask for?‘
How selfless real love is 无私的爱
‘Promise‘. I covered the pink soft hand extended by my daughter with mine, and clinched the deal. Now I became a bit anxious. ‘Sindu, dear, you shouldn‘t insist on getting a computer or any such expensive items. Dad does not have that kind of money right now. Ok?‘
‘No, Dad. I do not want anything expensive‘. Slowly and painfully, she finished eating the whole quantity. I was silently angry with my wife and my mother for forcing my child to eat something that she detested. After the ordeal was through, Sindu came to me with her eyes wide with expectation. All our attention was on her. ‘Dad, I want to have my head shaved off, this Sunday!‘ was her demand.
‘Atrocious!‘ shouted my wife, ‘A girl child having her head shaved off? Impossible!‘
‘Never in our family!‘ My mother rasped. ‘She has been watching too much of television. Our culture is getting totally spoiled with these TV programs!‘
‘Sindu, darling, why don‘t you ask for something else? We will be sad seeing you with a clean-shaven head.‘
‘Please, Sindu, why don‘t you try to understand our feelings?‘ I tried to plead with her.
‘Dad, you saw how difficult it was for me to eat that Curd Rice‘. Sindu was in tears. ‘And you promised to grant me whatever I ask for. Now, you are going back on your words. Was it not you who told me the story of King Harishchandra, and its moral that we should honor our promises no matter what?‘
It was time for me to call the shots. ‘Our promise must be kept.‘
‘Are you out of your mind?‘ chorused my mother and wife.
‘No. If we go back on our promises, she will never learn to honour her own. Sindu, your wish will be fulfilled.‘
With her head clean-shaven, Sindu had a round-face, and her eyes looked big and beautiful.
On Monday morning, I dropped her at her school. It was a sight to watch my hairless Sindu walking towards her classroom. She turned around and waved. I waved back with a smile. Just then, a boy alighted from a car, and shouted, ‘Sinduja, please wait for me!‘ What struck me was the hairless head of that boy. ‘May be, that is the in-stuff‘, I thought.
‘Sir, your daughter Sinduja is great indeed!‘ Without introducing herself, a lady got out of the car, and continued, ‘that boy who is walking along with your daughter is my son Harish. He is suffering from... leukemia‘. She paused to muffle her sobs. ‘Harish could not attend the school for the whole of the last month. He lost all his hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy. He refused to come back to school fearing the unintentional but cruel teasing of the schoolmates. Sinduja visited him last week, and promised him that she will take care of the teasing issue. But, I never imagined she would sacrifice her lovely hair for the sake of my son!
Sir, you and your wife are blessed to have such a noble soul as your daughter.‘
I stood transfixed and then, I wept. ‘My little Angel, you are teaching me how selfless real love is!‘
The happiest people on this planet are not those who live on their own terms but are those who change their terms for the ones whom they love !!
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