1. Not to live__ ， and unhappily not to grind corn in， but to__ as the mood arose， and see the ships in the harbour from the topmost window， and look__ on the sheep and the green world all around.
2. Thinking over the losses__ England has had forced upon her by steam and the ingenuity of the engineer， one is disposed to__ the decay of the windmill among the first.
3. A week’s overhauling would put everything__ .
佳句翻譯
1. 不久之前，一個偶然的機會曾使我成為一座風車房的住客。
譯__________________
2. 令人惆悵的是，一切又仿佛已完全就緒，就等著當天開工了。
譯__________________
3. 這風車並未損壞——它隻是失去了魂魄。
譯__________________
短語應用
1. The effect， moreover， is by no means lessened by the absence of the wind itself...
the absence of：缺乏
造__________________
2. But it will never come， and the cheerful winds that once were to drive a thousand English mills so happily now bustle over the Channel in vain.
in vain：無效地，徒然，白費力
造__________________
假如給我三天光明
Three Days to See
海倫？凱勒 / Helen Keller
海倫？凱勒（1880—1968），美國著名殘疾人作家、教育家，生於美國亞拉巴馬州。兩歲時，一場疾病使她變成了盲、聾、啞人。後來，她的父母請來家庭教師莎莉文女士對其進行特殊教育。同時，凱勒通過自身頑強的努力，於1904年畢業於麻省波士頓的拉德克利夫學院。後來，凱勒專職於寫作和殘疾人教育事業。她一生共寫了19本書，其中《我生活的故事》最為著名。
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year； sometimes as short as twenty-four hours. But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak， of course， of free men who have a choice， not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking， wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events， what experiences， what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings？ What happiness should we find in reviewing the past， what regrets？
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with gentleness， a vigor， and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those， of course， who would adopt the Epicurean motto of “Eat， drink， and be merry，” but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune， but almost always his sense of values is changed. He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has often been noted that those who live， or have lived， in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us， however， take life for granted. We know that one day we must die， but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health， death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks， hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy， I am afraid， characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing， only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily， without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it， of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life.
Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight； silence would teach him the joys of sound.
Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see.
Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods， and I asked her what she had observed...“Nothing in particular” she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes， for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible， I asked myself， to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note？ I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch， or the rough， shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening nature after her winter’s sleep. I feel the delightful， velvety texture of a flower， and discover its remarkable convolutions； and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally， if I am very fortunate， I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama， the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch， how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet， those who have eyes apparently see little. The panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human， perhaps， to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not， but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.