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This is a collection of 100 beautiful essays in English.Each essay is good for reading. I hope you will find the essays interesting and knowledge giving.
Make a schedule to read one or two essays/articles daily to keep improving your English language.
There are total 10 web pages , each containing 10 essays.You can progress on page numbers and essays by clicking from the links provided.
| Page 1 | Essays 1-10 |
| Page 2 | Essays 10-20 |
| Page 3 | Essays 21-30 |
| Page 4 | Essays 31-40 |
| Page 5 | Essays 41-50 |
| Page 6 | Essays 51-60 |
| Page 7 | Essays 61-70 |
| Page 8 | Essays 71-80 |
| Page 9 | Essays 81-90 |
| Page 10 | Essays 91-100 |
31. Choose Optimism
If you expect something to turn out badly, it probably will. Pessimism is seldom disappointed. But the same principle also works in reverse. If you expect good things to happen, they usually do!
There seems to be a natural cause-and-effect relationship between optimism and success. Optimism and pessimism are both powerful forces, and each of us must choose which we want to shape our outlook and our expectations.
There is enough good and bad in everyone life ample sorrow and happiness, sufficient joy and pain to find a rational basis for either optimism or pessimism. We can choose to laugh or cry, bless or curse. It’s our decision: From which perspective do we want to view life? Will we look up in hope or down in despair?
I believe in the upward look. I choose to highlight the positive and slip right over the negative. I am an optimist by choice as much as by nature. Sure, I know that sorrow exists. I am in my 70s now, and I have lived through more than one crisis.
But when all is said and done, I find that the good in life far outweighs the bad. An optimistic attitude is not a luxury; it’s a necessity. The way you look at life will determine how you feel, how you perform, and how well you will get along with other people. Conversely, negative thoughts, attitudes, and expectations feed on themselves; they become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Pessimism creates a dismal place where no one wants to live.
The only thing more powerful than negativism is a positive affirmation, a word of optimism and hope. One of the things I am most thankful for is the fact that I have grown up in a nation with a grand tradition of optimism. When a whole culture adopts an upward look, incredible things can be accomplished. When the world is seen as a hopeful, positive place, people are empowered to attempt and to achieve.
32. Why Should We Live with Such Hurry
Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be starved before we are hungry. Men say that a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take a thousand stitches today to save nine tomorrow. As for work, we haven’t any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus dance and cannot possibly keep our heads still. If I should only give a few pulls at the parish bell rope, as for a fire, that is, without setting the bell, there is hardly a man on his farm in the outskirts of Concord, notwithstanding that press of engagements which was his excuse so many times this morning, nor a boy, nor a woman,
I might almost say, but would forsake all and follow that sound, not mainly to save property from the flames, but, if we will confess the truth, much more to see it burn, since burn it must, and we, be it known, did not set it on fire or to see it put out, and have a hand in it, if that is done as handsomely; yes, even if it were the parish church itself.
Hardly a man takes a half-hour’s nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks, What’s the news? As if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels. Some give directions to be waked every half-hour, doubtless for no other purpose; and then, to pay for it, they tell what they have dreamed. After a night’s sleep the news is as indispensable as the breakfast. Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this globe. And he reads it over his coffee and rolls, that a man has had his eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River; never dreaming the while that he lives in the dark unfathomed mammoth cave of this world, and has but the rudiment of an eye himself.
33 A Woman’s Tears
Why are you crying? He asked his Mom. Because I m a woman. She told him. I don’t understand, he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, and you never will … Later the little boy asked his father, why does mother seem to cry for no reason? All women cry for no reason. That was all his Dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry. Finally he put in a call to God; when God got on the phone, the man said, God, why do women cry so easily? God said, When I made woman she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world; yet gentle enough to give comfort. I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children. I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up and take care of her family through fatigue and sickness without complaining. I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt them very badly. I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart. I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly. I gave her a tear to shed. It’s hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.
It’s her only weakness. It’s a tear for mankind.
34 Laziness
Laziness is a sin: everyone knows that, we have probably all had lectures pointing out that laziness is immoral, that it is wasteful, and that lazy people will never amount to anything in life.
But laziness can be more harmful than that, and it is often caused by more complex reasons than the simple wish to avoid work.
Some people who appear to be lazy are suffering from much more serious problems. They may be so distrustful of their fellow workers that they are unable to join in any group task for fear of being laughed at or fear of having their ideas stolen. These people who seem lazy may be deadened by a fear of failure that prevents fruitful work.
Or other sorts of fantasies may prevent work: some people are so busy planning, sometimes planning great deals of fantastic achievements, that they are unable to deal with whatever lesser work is on hand. Still other people are not avoiding work, strictly speaking; they are nearly procrastinating rescheduling their day.
Laziness can actually be helpful. Like procrastinators, some people look lazy when they are really thinking, planning, researching. We should all remember that some great scientific discoveries occurred by chance. Newton wasn’t working in the orchard when the apple hit him and he devised the theory of gravity. All of us would like to have someone lazy to build the car or stove we buy, particularly if that laziness were caused by the worker’s taking time to check each step of his work and to do his job right.
And sometimes, being lazy, that is, taking time off for a rest is good for the overworked students or executive.
Taking a rest can be particularly helpful to the athlete who is trying too hard or the doctor who’s simply working himself overtime too many evenings at the clinic. So be careful when you are tempted to call someone lazy. That person may be thinking, resting or planning his or her next book.
Passage 35. Owning Books
We enjoy reading books that belong to us much more than if they are borrowed. A borrowed book is like a guest in the house; it must be treated with punctiliousness, with a certain considerate formality. You must see that it sustains no damage; it must not suffer while under your roof. But your own books belong to you; you treat them with that affectionate intimacy that annihilates formality.
Books are for use, not for show; you should own no book that you are afraid to mark up, or afraid to place on the table, wide open and face down. A good reason for marking favorite passages in books is that this practice enables you to remember more easily the significant sayings, to refer to them quickly, and then in later years, it is like visiting a forest where you once blazed a trail.
Everyone should begin collecting a private library in youth; the instinct of private property can here be cultivated with every advantage and no evils. The best of mural decorations is books; they are more varied in color and appearance than any wallpaper, they are more attractive in design, and they have the prime advantage of being separate personalities, so that if you sit alone in the room in the firelight, you are surrounded with intimate friends. The knowledge that they are there in plain view is both stimulating and refreshing.
Books are of the people, by the people, for the people. Literature is the immortal part of history; it is the best and most enduring part of personality. Book-friends have this advantage over living friends; you can enjoy the most truly aristocratic society in the world whenever you want it. The great dead are beyond our physical reach, and the great living are usually almost as inaccessible. But in a private library, you can at any moment converse with Socrates or Shakespeare or Carlyle or Dumas or Dickens. And there is no doubt that in these books you see these men at their best. They “laid themselves out,” they did their ultimate best to entertain you, to make a favorable impression. You are necessary to them as an audience is to an actor; only instead of seeing them masked, you look into their innermost heart of heart.
Passage 36. Olympic Games
In ancient Greece athletic festivals were very important and had strong religious associations.
The Olympian athletic festival held every four years in honor of Zeus, king of the Olympian Gods, eventually lost its local character, became first a national event and then after the rules against foreign competitors had been abolished, international. No one knows exactly how far back the Olympic Games go, but some official records date from 776B.C. The games took place in August on the plain by Mount Olympus. Many thousands of spectators gathered from all parts of Greece, but no married woman was admitted even as a spectator. Slaves, women and dishonored persons were not allowed to compete. The exact sequence of events is uncertain, but events included boys gymnastics, boxing, wrestling, horse racing and field events, though there were fewer sports involved than in the modern Olympic Games.
On the last day of the Games, all the winners were honored by having a ring of holy olive leaves placed on their heads. So great was the honor that the winner of the foot race gave his name to the year of his victory. Although Olympic winners received no prize money, they were, in fact, richly rewarded by their state authorities. How their results compared with modern standards, we unfortunately have no means of telling. After an uninterrupted history of almost 1,200 years, the Games were suspended by the Romans in 394 A.D. They continued for such a long time because people believed in the philosophy behind the Olympics: the idea that a healthy body produced a healthy mind, and that the spirit of competition in sports and games was preferable to the competition that caused wars. It was over 1,500 years before another such international athletic gathering took place in Athens in 1896.
Nowadays, the Games are held in different countries in turn. The host country provides vast facilities, including a stadium, swimming pools and living accommodation, but competing countries pay their own athletes expenses.
Passage 37. Life Lessons
Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there, to serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or to help you figure out who you are or who you want to become. You never know who these people may be a roommate, a neighbor, a professor, a friend, a lover, or even a complete stranger but when you lock eyes with them, you know at that very moment they will affect your life in some profound way.
Sometimes things happen to you that may seem horrible, painful, and unfair at first, but in reflection you find that without overcoming those obstacles you would have never realized your potential, strength, willpower, or heart. Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of good or bad luck. Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul. Without these small tests, whatever they may be, life would be like a smoothly paved straight flat road to nowhere. It would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless.
The people you meet who affect your life, and the success and downfalls you experience, help to create who you are and who you become. Even the bad experiences can be learned from. In fact, they are sometimes the most important ones. If someone loves you, give love back to them in whatever way you can, not only because they love you, but because in a way, they are teaching you to love and how to open your heart and eyes to things. If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious to whom you open your heart. Make every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from those moments everything that you possibly can for you may never be able to experience it again. Talk to people that you have never talked to before, and listen to what they have to say. Let yourself fall in love, break free, and set your sights high. Hold your head up because you have every right to. Tell yourself you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don’t believe in yourself, it will be hard for others to believe in you.
Passage 38. Rain of Seattle I
I’ve got a deep secret few people understand and even fewer will admit to sharing.
It’s time to tell the truth:
I love the rain, deeply and passionately and more than the sun.
At least I live in the right place, famous for its damp weather and spawning its own genuine rainforest.
I can’t imagine living anywhere else than the Pacific Northwest.
The sun shines so infrequently that my friends forget where they put their sunglasses.
Gloomy clouds cause many people around here to suffer from seasonal affective disorder.
Yet I welcome the rain.
Seattleites will say they like how rain keeps the city green, how clean the air tastes afterwards.
My real reason for enjoying the rain is steeped in pure selfishness when it’s mucky outside,
I don’t have to do anything.
I can spend the afternoon curled up reading, build a fire and make a big pot of spiced tea.
I can sleep in late, waking up occasionally to hear soothing patter on the roof, water racing down the gutter.
Nobody expects me to leave my house or do anything overly productive.
Maybe I’ll invite a few friends over to watch an old movie or play a board game.
Friend’s expectations are low and easy to meet.
Summer in Seattle is beautiful but exhausting.
The sunny, gorgeous weather and blue skies draw Seattleites from their cozy little homes, ready to dry out and have fun.
People go hiking, biking, canoeing.
Folks work in their gardens, wash their cars and attend outdoor concerts in the park all in the same day!
The effort involved to throw a party ratchets up several notches, as people host barbecues and picnics and water-skiing parties.
Passage 39. Rain of Seattle II
It’s a sin around here to not thoroughly enjoy every moment of every golden day.
It’s embarrassing to answer, did you get out and enjoy the sunshine this weekend? With No, I stayed inside.
Co-workers frown and exchange suspicious looks; apparently I’m one of those rain-loving slugs.
I tried lying, but my pale complexion gave me away.
Another mark in rains favor is that my body doesn’t betray me when it’s cold and damp outside.
Throughout the winter, people wear several layers, with perhaps several extra pounds here and there.
In June I dig out my shorts to discover my thighs resemble cottage cheese.
I dread buying a swimsuit, as consecutive horror and humiliation make me cringe in the dressing room.
Even my taste buds prefer the rain.
When it storms outside, it’s time for steamy hot chocolate or even a soothing toddy.
People devour hot, hearty meals, with lots of potatoes and savory sauces.
This type of eating evaporates when the sun comes out; suddenly everyone offers salads and ice water and expects it to be satisfying.
It’s time to publicly acknowledge that I love the rain.
How it transforms my house into a cozy cave where I can spend the afternoon cooking and dreaming.
It seems nobody else will admit to a love affair with the rain, nobody else will groan when it’s hot outside and join me in a rain dance.
When the sun comes out I do greet it with a smile, slipping sunglasses to my purse and pulling a tank top out of my closet.
Yet my comfortable sweaters and warm slippers beckon, making me wish for another wet, chilly afternoon.
When the rain returns, I will grin even more.
Am I the only one?
Passage 40. Snow Season
The early snows fall soft and white and seem to heal the landscape.
There are as yet no tracks through the drifts, no muddied slush in the roads.
The wind sweeps snow into the scars of our harvest-time haste, smoothing the brow of hill, hiding furrow and cog and trash in the yard.
Snow muffles the shriek of metal and the rasp of motion.
It covers our flintier purposes and brings a redeeming silence, as if a curtain has fallen on the strivings of a year, and now we may stop, look inward, and rediscover the amber warmth of family and conversation. At such times, locked away inside wall and woolen, lulled by the sedatives of wood-smoke and candlelight, we recall the competing claims of nature.
We see the branch and bark of trees, rather than the sugar-scented green of their leaves.
We look out the window and admire the elegance of ice crystal, the bravely patient tree leaning leafless into the wind, the dramatic shadows of the stooping sun.
We look at the structure of things, the geometry of branch and snowflake, family and deed.
Even before the first snow, we view the world differently in winter.
We watch the lawn settle into the sleep of frost and the last crumpled leaf quiver on the oak, and feel the change.
At night the skies are cold and clear, and stars shine like the dreams of serpents.
The hillsides turn brown and gray; the edges of stalk and blade stand out starkly.
Dark clouds settle on the mountain ridges.
Storms rumble in like freight trains.
Rain rattles the roof and shutters at the window.
Then comes the snow, and we once again wonder at how it transforms the familiar objects of our everyday world.
When snowflake drifts the road we head indoors and resign ourselves to the quiet crackle of the wood fire.
The example of the woodpile and the well-stocked larder tells us that we can achieve what we dream, and winter brings us long, silent nights to dream on.