作为开场白，读几段 The Great Gatsby, 欢迎指导。

jingbeiboy · 2012-09-05 23:30:44Z

作为开场白，读几段 The Great Gatsby, 欢迎指导。简介

来源: jingbeiboy 于 2012-09-05 23:30:44 [档案] [博客] [旧帖] [给我悄悄话] 本文已被阅读：次 (2913 bytes)

本文内容已被 [ jingbeiboy ] 在 2012-09-06 12:51:03 编辑过。如有问题，请报告版主或论坛管理删除.

没练习，直接读，问题多多呀。

Chapter One

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’

He didn’t say any more but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon—for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.

Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat， a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth。

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gat*****y, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gat*****y who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away.