六年级上册英语手抄报：读书之乐
Reading is a pleasure of the mind, which means that it is a little like a sport: your eagerness and knowledge and quickness make you a good reader. Reading is fun, not because the writer is telling you something, but because it makes your mind work. Your own imagination works along with the author's or even goes beyond his. Your experience, compared with his, brings you to the same or different conclusions, and your ideas develop as you understand his.
Every book stands by itself, like a one-family house, but books in a library are like houses in a city. Although they are separate, together they all add up to something; they are connected with each other and with other cities. The same ideas, or related ones, turn up in different places; the human problems that repeat themselves in life repeat themselves in literature, but with different solutions according to different writings at different times.
英语手抄报图片
Reading can only be fun if you expect it to be. If you concentrate on books somebody tells you "ought" to read, you probably won't have fun. But if you put down a book you don't like and try another till you find one that means something to you, and then relax with it, you will almost certainly have a good time--and if you become as a result of reading, better, wiser, kinder, or more gentle, you won't have suffered during the process.
读书是愉悦心智之事。在这一点上它与运动颇为相似:一个优秀的读者必须要有热情、有知识、有速度。读书之乐并非在于作者要告诉你什么，而在于它促使你思考。你跟随作者一起想像，有时你的想象甚至会超越作者的。把自己的体验与作者的相互比较，你会得出相同或者不同的结论。在理解作者想法的同时，也形成了自己的观点。
每一本书都自成体系，就像一家一户的住宅，而图书馆里的藏书好比城市里千家万户的居所。尽管它们都相互独立，但只有相互结合才有意义。家家户户彼此相连，城市与城市彼此相依。相同或相似的思想在不同地方涌现。人类生活中反复的问题也在文学中不断重现，但因时代与作品的差异，答案也各不相同。
如果你希望的话，读书也能充满乐趣。倘若你只读那些别人告诉你该读之书，那么你不太可能有乐趣可言。但如果你放下你不喜欢的书，试着阅读另外一本，直到你找到自己中意的，然后轻轻松松的读下去，差不多一定会乐在其中。而且，当你通过阅读变得更加优秀，更加善良，更加文雅时，阅读便不再是一种折磨。
六年级上册英语手抄报：When the Moon Follows Me
Each of my sons made the discovery early. We would be riding in the car at night, and a little voice would call out from the back seat, “Hey, the moon is following us!” I would explain that the moon was not actually gliding along with our car. There would be another period of critical observation and the final verdict, delivered more quietly this time: “But it really is moving. I can see it.”
I thought of that one evening as I was driving. The moon, one day short of fullness, rode with me, first gliding smoothly, then bouncing over the bumpy stretches, now on my right, then straight ahead, the silver light washing over dry grasses in open fields, streaking along through black branches, finally disappearing as the road wound its way through the hills.
When I crested the hill in the village, there it was again —— grown suddenly immense, ripe, flooding the town with a sprawling light so magical I began to understand why it is said to inspire “looniness.” I could hardly wait to get back home to show the boys.
Robert was in the bathtub, so I grabbed John. “ Close your eyes and come see what followed me home,” I said, hoping to increase the dramatic impact. I led him out into the night. “Okay. Open! Isn’t it beautiful?”
John blinked a few times and looked at me as if I might, indeed, be loony. “Mom, it’s just the moon. Is this the surprise?” I suppose he was hoping for a puppy.
I should have realized that, being only ten, he was probably too young to know how much we sometimes need the magic and romance of moonlight——a light that is nothing like the harsh glare of the sun that it reflects. Moonlight softens our faults; all shabbiness dissolves into shadow. It erases the myriad details that crowd and rush us in the sunlight, leaving only sharp outlines and highlights and broad brushstrokes——the fundamental shape of things.
Often in the soothing, restorative glow we stare transfixed, bouncing our ambitions and hopes and plans off this great reflector. We dream our dreams; we examine the structure of our lives; we make considered decisions. In a hectic, confusing world, it helps to step out into a quiet, clear swath of moonlight, to seek out the fundamentals and eschew the incidentals.
The night after I showed John the moon, he burst breathlessly through the door, calling, “Mom, come out for a minute!” This time, he led me, coatless and shivering. The driveway gravel crunched underneath our sneakers. From somewhere in the woods beyond the pond, the plaintive calls of geese honked and died away.
Past the row of pine trees that line the road, the sky opened up with the full moon on it, suspended so precariously close that it might come hurtling toward us—— incandescent, even larger and more breathtaking than the night before, climbing its motionless climb over the molten silver of our pond. Even a ten-year-old could see this wasn’t just the moon. This was The Moon.
When I turned around, John was grinning, expectant, studying my face intently to see if he had pleased me. He had. I knew that now the moon was following him too.
我的两个儿子各自都在很小的时候就有了那惊人的发现。每当我们驱车夜行的时候,后座上总会传来稚嫩惊奇的声音: “嘿,瞧!月亮实际上并没有跟在我们的汽车后面滑行。发出惊叹的孩子往往审视良久,终于得出定论,再一次用较冷静的口吻说: “它确实在动的嘛,我看得见的。”
一天晚上，在驱车回家的途中，我想起了这件事儿。再过一天就要盈满的月亮随我一路同行;它先是平稳地滑行，继而又在崎岖的山路上跃动，忽而在我右边，忽而又跑到我的前头。银色的月光泼洒在旷野的枯草上，沿着一路黑黝黝的枝丛投下斑驳的光点，最后，当车道在山间绕了个弯，它便消失得无影无踪。
当我的车开上村子里的小山顶时，月亮又出现了——突然变得硕大、饱满;神奇的银辉充盈四野，整个城镇都被淹没在溶溶的月色中。我这才开始明白，为什么人们会说月儿能激发起“疯狂”。我急不可待地赶回家，想让孩子们出来看看。
罗伯特正在洗澡;于是我一把拉起约翰，说：“闭上眼睛，来看看什么东西随我回家了。”希望这样能增强戏剧性的效果。我牵着他走到户外的夜色中。 “行了，睁开眼睛!瞧，多美啊!”
约翰眨巴眨巴双眼，盯着我看，仿佛我真的发疯了一样。“妈，不就是月亮嘛。这有什么稀奇的?”我猜他希望我带了只小狗回来。
我本应该意识到这一点：他才十岁，也许还太小，弄不清我们有时是何等需要月光的魅力和浪漫，这种光和它所反射的太阳那耀眼的光芒是多么大相径庭。月光淡化了我们的各种缺点，所有的卑微都化解为依稀朦胧的阴影。它抹去了在阳光下充塞于我们周围、压迫着我们的无数细微的事物，只留下轮廓鲜明的剪影、最精彩的场面和粗线条的绘画——万物的基本形状。
常常，在那令人屏神静气的光华中，我们注目凝视;这时，我们的雄心壮志、美好希望和宏伟蓝图便会从那了不起的反射物上跃然而出。我们做着五光十色的梦，考察我们的生活结构，作出深思熟虑的决定。在一个喧嚣、混乱的世界上，走进一片宁静、清新的月光，去寻循事物的根本，避开不期而至的变故，那可真是大有裨益。
就在我让约翰看月亮的第二天晚上，他气喘喘地一头闯进屋来，喊道：“妈，快出来一会儿。”这一次是他牵着我。当时我没穿外衣，不由得一阵哆嗦。车道上的砾石被我们的旅游鞋踩得嘎嘎作响。从水塘彼岸的树林里不知什么地方传来几声鹅的哀鸣，转而又悠然消失。
走过路边那排松树，天空豁然开朗，一轮满月晃晃悠悠地悬浮在上面，离我们那么近，仿佛就要掉下来撞到我们身上。它光华照人，比前一天晚上还大，更令人心驰神往，在熔银般的水塘上空悄悄地爬升。就连十岁的孩童也能看出，这不仅仅是个月亮。这是个大写的月亮。
我转过身，只见约翰正咧着嘴笑，满脸期盼的神情;他热切的目光想从我的脸上探明他是否博得了我的欢心。他确实博得了我的欢心。我意识到现在月儿也正在随他同行。