严家满-巴尔扎克名言

Unit 5 The Day Mother Cried
Gerald Moore
A mother and her son learn more form a moment of defeat than they ever could from a
victory. Her example of never giving up gives him courage for the rest of his life.
Coming home from school that dark winter's day so long ago, I was filled with
anticipation. I had a new issue of my favorite sports magazine tucked under my arm, and
the house to myself. Dad was at work, my sister was away, and Mother wouldn't be home
from her new job for an hour. I bounded up the steps, burst into the living room and
flipped on a light.
I was shocked into stillness by what I saw. Mother, pulled into a tight ball with her
face in her hands, sat at the far end of the couch. She was crying. I had never seen her cry.
I approached cautiously and touched her shoulder.
She took a long breath and managed a weak smile. nothing, really. Nothing
important. Just than I'm going to lose this new job. I can't type fast enough.

line she had spoken to me a hundred times when I was having trouble learning or doing
something important to me.

think I can in most things. But I can't do this.
I felt helpless and out of place. At age 16 I still assumed Mother could do anything.
Some years before, when we sold our ranch and moved to town, Mother had decided to
open a day nursery. She had had no training, but that didn't stand in her way. She sent
away for correspondence courses in child care, did the lessons and in six months formally
qualified herself for the task. It wasn't long before she had a full enrollment and a waiting
list. I accepted all this as a perfectly normal instance of Mother's ability.
But neither the nursery nor the motel my parents bought later had provided enough
income to send my sister and me to college. In two years I would be ready for college. In
three more my sister would want to go. Time was running out, and Mother was frantic for
ways to save money. It was clear that Dad could do no more than he was doing
already——farming 80 acres in addition to holding a fulltime job.
A few months after we'd sold the motel, Mother arrived home with a use typewriter.
It skipped between certain letters and the keyboard was soft. At dinner that night I
pronounced the machine a
精选

day on, as soon as the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Mother would
disappear into her sewing room to practice. The slow tap, tap, tap went on some nights
until midnight.
It was nearly Christmas when I heard Mother got a job at the radio station. I was not
the least bit surprised, or impressed. But she was ecstatic.
Monday, after her first day at work, I could see that the excitement was gone. Mother
looked tired and drawn. I responded by ignoring her.
Tuesday, Dad made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. Mother stayed in her sewing
room, practicing.

she'd appreciate it if we all helped out a bit more.

know you do,Dad said evenly. you may have to do more. You might just
remember that she is working primarily so you can go to college.
I honestly didn't care. I wished she would just forget the whole thing.
My shock and embarrassment at finding Mother in tears on Wednesday was a perfect
index of how little I understood the pressures on her. Sitting beside her on the couch, I
began very slowly to understand.

the tension of holding back the strong emotions that were interrupted by my arrival.
Suddenly, something inside me turned. I reached out and put my arms around her.
She broke then. She put her face against my shoulder and sobbed. I help her close
and didn't try to talk. I knew I was doing what I should, what I could, and that it was
enough. In that moment, feeling Mother's back racked with emotion, I understood for the
first time her vulnerability. She was still my mother, but she was something more: a
person like me, capable of fear and hurt and failure. I could feel her pain as she must have
felt mine on a thousand occasions when I had sought comfort in her arms.
A week later Mother took a job selling dry goods at half the salary the radio station
had offered.
old green typewriter continued. I had a very different feeling now when I passed her door
at night and heard her tapping away. I knew there was something more going on in there
than a woman learning to type.
When I left for college two years later, Mother had an office job with better pay and
more responsibility. I have to believe that in some strange way she learned as much from
精选

her moment of defeat as I did, because several years later, when I had finished school and
proudly accepted a job as a newspaper reporter, she had already been a journalist with
our hometown paper for six months.
The old green typewriter sits in my office now, unrepaired. It is a memento, but what
it recalls for me is not quite what if recalled for Mother. When I'm having trouble with a
story and think about giving up or when I start to feel sorry for myself and think things
should be easier for me, I roll a piece of paper into that cranky old machine and type,
word by painful word, just the way mother did. What I remember then is not her failure,
but her courage, the courage to go ahead.
It's the best memento anyone ever gave me.

妈妈哭泣的那一天
很久以 前一个昏暗的冬日，我放学回家时从满了期望。我胳膊下夹着一期新的我喜欢的
体育杂志，房子里将会是 就我一个人。爸爸上班，妹妹不在家，妈妈找了份工作，一小时内
不会回家。我蹦上台阶，冲进起居室， 啪地开了灯。
眼前的景象把我惊呆了：妈妈身子紧缩成一团，脸埋在手里，坐在沙发上的另一 端。她
在哭。我以前从没有见过她哭，我小心翼翼地走近些，拍拍她的肩膀。“妈？”我说：“怎么了？”她长舒一口气，挤出一丝笑容。“没什么，真的，没什么大不了的，只是我要失去这份
新的工 作，我打字不够快！”
“但你到那儿才三天，”我说，“你会跟上的。”我再重复妈妈对我说 过上百次的一句话。
每当我学习上或做一些对我很重要的事情遇到麻烦时，她就这样说。
“不行”她难过地说。“过去我总说我能做到我决心做到的一切事情，现在我仍然认为在
多数事情上我能 做到，但这次我不行。”
我无能力，不知所措。16岁的我还认为妈妈无所不能。几年前，我 们卖掉牧场搬进城
时妈妈决定开家日托所。她以前没有受过这方面的训练，但这没有难住她。她参加幼托 所函
授学习，做练习。六个月后正式获得了幼托所看护资格，不久托儿所就招生满额，而且还有
孩子等着入托，我认为妈妈理所当然有能力做到这个。
但是日托所和父母后来买的汽车旅馆都 不能提供足够的钱供妹妹和我上大学。两年后我
该上大学了，再过三年妹妹也要上学了。时间不多了，妈 妈拼命想挣钱。很清楚，爸爸已经
尽了最大努力--------- 出了一份全日工作外，还种着80英亩地。
在卖掉汽车旅馆的几个月后，妈妈带了一台旧打字 机回家，这台打字机有时要跳字，键
盘也很松。那天晚饭时，我说这台机器就是“废品一件”
“我们只能买得起这个”妈妈说，“用着联系够了”从那天起，饭桌一收拾干净，碟子洗完，
妈妈就钻进 她的缝纫间练习，有几晚那缓慢的嗒，嗒，嗒的声音一直持续到午夜。
精选

就快圣诞了，我听到妈妈在广播站找到了份工作，我一点也不吃惊，也没怎么当回事。
但她非常高兴。
星期一，她第一天下班回来，我就发现她不再激动，她看上去很困，脸绷着，我没理会
她。
星期二，爸爸做了晚饭，收拾了厨房，妈妈呆在她的缝纫间练习。“妈妈没事吧？”我问
爸爸。
“她打字遇到了些麻烦，”他说“她需要练习，我想如果我们多帮她一点，她会感激的。”
“我已经做了很多了，”我说，我立刻戒备了起来。
“我知道，”爸爸平静地说：“但你可以做得更多。你可得记着她工作主要是为了你们能
上大学。”
说实话，我并不在乎能不能上大学，我希望她能忘了这码事。
星期三，当我 发现妈妈哭泣时的惊讶和窘迫，完全证明我多么不理解她所承受的压力。
挨着他坐在沙发上时，我开始慢 慢的理解了.
“我想我们有时都难免有失败，”妈妈静静的说，我能体会到她的痛苦，也能体 会到她为
了我的闯入打断的强烈情感的发泄所感到的紧张。突然，我的心被打动了，我伸出胳膊，搂住了她。
妈妈再也控制不住了，她把脸枕在我的肩上，抽泣起来，我抱紧了她，不想说话 。我知
道我正做我应该做的，我能做的，这就够了。在那一刻，感觉到妈妈的北由于激动在颤抖，
我第一次领会到她的脆弱，她还是我妈妈，但又不仅如此：她还是一个像我一样的人，会害
怕，会受伤 ，会失败。我能感到她的痛苦，就像上千次我在她的怀里寻找安慰时他能感受到
我一样。
一周后，妈妈找了份卖纺织品的工作，挣的钱只有广播站一半多。“这份工作我做的来，
“她简单地说道 ，但夜晚在那台老旧的绿色打字机上的练习还在继续。现在，当我晚上走过
她的房间，听到她打字的声音 ，我有一种完全不同的心情。我知道那儿不仅仅是一个女人在
练习打字。
两年后我离 家上大学时，妈妈有了一份报酬更多，责任更大的工作。我不能不认为以某
种奇特的方式，妈妈从她失败 的那刻学到的东西和我一样多，因为几年后，当我上完学，自
豪的接受了一份报纸的记者工作时，妈妈已 经是我们镇报的记者6个月了。
现在，那太没修的老掉牙的绿打字机就在我的办公室，她是一 个纪念品，但它所唤起的
记忆对我和对妈妈是不怎么一样的。当我写文章遇到困难想要放弃时，或者当我 自怜自悯认
为生活不应该为难我时，我就往那破旧的打字机里卷进一张纸，想妈妈当年一样，一字一字< br>费力地打起来。这是我想到的不是她的失败，而是她的勇气，继续前进的勇气。
这台打字机是我得到过的最好的纪念品。


精选

Unit 5 The Day Mother Cried
Gerald Moore
A mother and her son learn more form a moment of defeat than they ever could from a
victory. Her example of never giving up gives him courage for the rest of his life.
Coming home from school that dark winter's day so long ago, I was filled with
anticipation. I had a new issue of my favorite sports magazine tucked under my arm, and
the house to myself. Dad was at work, my sister was away, and Mother wouldn't be home
from her new job for an hour. I bounded up the steps, burst into the living room and
flipped on a light.
I was shocked into stillness by what I saw. Mother, pulled into a tight ball with her
face in her hands, sat at the far end of the couch. She was crying. I had never seen her cry.
I approached cautiously and touched her shoulder.
She took a long breath and managed a weak smile. nothing, really. Nothing
important. Just than I'm going to lose this new job. I can't type fast enough.

line she had spoken to me a hundred times when I was having trouble learning or doing
something important to me.

think I can in most things. But I can't do this.
I felt helpless and out of place. At age 16 I still assumed Mother could do anything.
Some years before, when we sold our ranch and moved to town, Mother had decided to
open a day nursery. She had had no training, but that didn't stand in her way. She sent
away for correspondence courses in child care, did the lessons and in six months formally
qualified herself for the task. It wasn't long before she had a full enrollment and a waiting
list. I accepted all this as a perfectly normal instance of Mother's ability.
But neither the nursery nor the motel my parents bought later had provided enough
income to send my sister and me to college. In two years I would be ready for college. In
three more my sister would want to go. Time was running out, and Mother was frantic for
ways to save money. It was clear that Dad could do no more than he was doing
already——farming 80 acres in addition to holding a fulltime job.
A few months after we'd sold the motel, Mother arrived home with a use typewriter.
It skipped between certain letters and the keyboard was soft. At dinner that night I
pronounced the machine a
精选

day on, as soon as the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Mother would
disappear into her sewing room to practice. The slow tap, tap, tap went on some nights
until midnight.
It was nearly Christmas when I heard Mother got a job at the radio station. I was not
the least bit surprised, or impressed. But she was ecstatic.
Monday, after her first day at work, I could see that the excitement was gone. Mother
looked tired and drawn. I responded by ignoring her.
Tuesday, Dad made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. Mother stayed in her sewing
room, practicing.

she'd appreciate it if we all helped out a bit more.

know you do,Dad said evenly. you may have to do more. You might just
remember that she is working primarily so you can go to college.
I honestly didn't care. I wished she would just forget the whole thing.
My shock and embarrassment at finding Mother in tears on Wednesday was a perfect
index of how little I understood the pressures on her. Sitting beside her on the couch, I
began very slowly to understand.

the tension of holding back the strong emotions that were interrupted by my arrival.
Suddenly, something inside me turned. I reached out and put my arms around her.
She broke then. She put her face against my shoulder and sobbed. I help her close
and didn't try to talk. I knew I was doing what I should, what I could, and that it was
enough. In that moment, feeling Mother's back racked with emotion, I understood for the
first time her vulnerability. She was still my mother, but she was something more: a
person like me, capable of fear and hurt and failure. I could feel her pain as she must have
felt mine on a thousand occasions when I had sought comfort in her arms.
A week later Mother took a job selling dry goods at half the salary the radio station
had offered.
old green typewriter continued. I had a very different feeling now when I passed her door
at night and heard her tapping away. I knew there was something more going on in there
than a woman learning to type.
When I left for college two years later, Mother had an office job with better pay and
more responsibility. I have to believe that in some strange way she learned as much from
精选

her moment of defeat as I did, because several years later, when I had finished school and
proudly accepted a job as a newspaper reporter, she had already been a journalist with
our hometown paper for six months.
The old green typewriter sits in my office now, unrepaired. It is a memento, but what
it recalls for me is not quite what if recalled for Mother. When I'm having trouble with a
story and think about giving up or when I start to feel sorry for myself and think things
should be easier for me, I roll a piece of paper into that cranky old machine and type,
word by painful word, just the way mother did. What I remember then is not her failure,
but her courage, the courage to go ahead.
It's the best memento anyone ever gave me.

妈妈哭泣的那一天
很久以 前一个昏暗的冬日，我放学回家时从满了期望。我胳膊下夹着一期新的我喜欢的
体育杂志，房子里将会是 就我一个人。爸爸上班，妹妹不在家，妈妈找了份工作，一小时内
不会回家。我蹦上台阶，冲进起居室， 啪地开了灯。
眼前的景象把我惊呆了：妈妈身子紧缩成一团，脸埋在手里，坐在沙发上的另一 端。她
在哭。我以前从没有见过她哭，我小心翼翼地走近些，拍拍她的肩膀。“妈？”我说：“怎么了？”她长舒一口气，挤出一丝笑容。“没什么，真的，没什么大不了的，只是我要失去这份
新的工 作，我打字不够快！”
“但你到那儿才三天，”我说，“你会跟上的。”我再重复妈妈对我说 过上百次的一句话。
每当我学习上或做一些对我很重要的事情遇到麻烦时，她就这样说。
“不行”她难过地说。“过去我总说我能做到我决心做到的一切事情，现在我仍然认为在
多数事情上我能 做到，但这次我不行。”
我无能力，不知所措。16岁的我还认为妈妈无所不能。几年前，我 们卖掉牧场搬进城
时妈妈决定开家日托所。她以前没有受过这方面的训练，但这没有难住她。她参加幼托 所函
授学习，做练习。六个月后正式获得了幼托所看护资格，不久托儿所就招生满额，而且还有
孩子等着入托，我认为妈妈理所当然有能力做到这个。
但是日托所和父母后来买的汽车旅馆都 不能提供足够的钱供妹妹和我上大学。两年后我
该上大学了，再过三年妹妹也要上学了。时间不多了，妈 妈拼命想挣钱。很清楚，爸爸已经
尽了最大努力--------- 出了一份全日工作外，还种着80英亩地。
在卖掉汽车旅馆的几个月后，妈妈带了一台旧打字 机回家，这台打字机有时要跳字，键
盘也很松。那天晚饭时，我说这台机器就是“废品一件”
“我们只能买得起这个”妈妈说，“用着联系够了”从那天起，饭桌一收拾干净，碟子洗完，
妈妈就钻进 她的缝纫间练习，有几晚那缓慢的嗒，嗒，嗒的声音一直持续到午夜。
精选

就快圣诞了，我听到妈妈在广播站找到了份工作，我一点也不吃惊，也没怎么当回事。
但她非常高兴。
星期一，她第一天下班回来，我就发现她不再激动，她看上去很困，脸绷着，我没理会
她。
星期二，爸爸做了晚饭，收拾了厨房，妈妈呆在她的缝纫间练习。“妈妈没事吧？”我问
爸爸。
“她打字遇到了些麻烦，”他说“她需要练习，我想如果我们多帮她一点，她会感激的。”
“我已经做了很多了，”我说，我立刻戒备了起来。
“我知道，”爸爸平静地说：“但你可以做得更多。你可得记着她工作主要是为了你们能
上大学。”
说实话，我并不在乎能不能上大学，我希望她能忘了这码事。
星期三，当我 发现妈妈哭泣时的惊讶和窘迫，完全证明我多么不理解她所承受的压力。
挨着他坐在沙发上时，我开始慢 慢的理解了.
“我想我们有时都难免有失败，”妈妈静静的说，我能体会到她的痛苦，也能体 会到她为
了我的闯入打断的强烈情感的发泄所感到的紧张。突然，我的心被打动了，我伸出胳膊，搂住了她。
妈妈再也控制不住了，她把脸枕在我的肩上，抽泣起来，我抱紧了她，不想说话 。我知
道我正做我应该做的，我能做的，这就够了。在那一刻，感觉到妈妈的北由于激动在颤抖，
我第一次领会到她的脆弱，她还是我妈妈，但又不仅如此：她还是一个像我一样的人，会害
怕，会受伤 ，会失败。我能感到她的痛苦，就像上千次我在她的怀里寻找安慰时他能感受到
我一样。
一周后，妈妈找了份卖纺织品的工作，挣的钱只有广播站一半多。“这份工作我做的来，
“她简单地说道 ，但夜晚在那台老旧的绿色打字机上的练习还在继续。现在，当我晚上走过
她的房间，听到她打字的声音 ，我有一种完全不同的心情。我知道那儿不仅仅是一个女人在
练习打字。
两年后我离 家上大学时，妈妈有了一份报酬更多，责任更大的工作。我不能不认为以某
种奇特的方式，妈妈从她失败 的那刻学到的东西和我一样多，因为几年后，当我上完学，自
豪的接受了一份报纸的记者工作时，妈妈已 经是我们镇报的记者6个月了。
现在，那太没修的老掉牙的绿打字机就在我的办公室，她是一 个纪念品，但它所唤起的
记忆对我和对妈妈是不怎么一样的。当我写文章遇到困难想要放弃时，或者当我 自怜自悯认
为生活不应该为难我时，我就往那破旧的打字机里卷进一张纸，想妈妈当年一样，一字一字< br>费力地打起来。这是我想到的不是她的失败，而是她的勇气，继续前进的勇气。
这台打字机是我得到过的最好的纪念品。


精选