五篇短文

写五篇短文~

1.这个月真够呛,碰上了好朋友过生日,零用钱已经花得差不多了.摸摸自己的口袋,只找到八毛钱.朋友过生日,人家大包小包地送过去,而我却只给她八角钱,那多没面子呀!这几天,我被这件事搞得吃不下饭,睡不着觉,就拿了几本书来看.从书中我看到了一句话,使我感触特别深：君子之交淡如水,小人之交酒肉亲.如果花大价钱买礼物,我们不是成了小人之交了吗?
忽然,我灵机一动,想到了一个好办法,一下子就从床上跳了下来.我从家中找来一块红布,再用八角钱买了一些针线.我先把红布剪成手帕一样大小.然后用水彩笔在红布上写上“祝你生日快乐”这几个大字,下面画了一朵简单的花.最后,我学着大人的样子沿着用铅笔打好的框架一针一线地绣了起来.由于初次体验,针经常扎进手指里,流出了鲜红的血,但我毫不在乎,继续认认真真地绣着.整个下午我一直都在绣手帕,累得我是腰酸背疼.
虽然,我对自己送给朋友的礼物很满意,但是我依然拖着沉重地脚步去参加朋友举行的生日聚会.一进朋友家,只见屋里坐满了客人,旁边放满了大包小包的礼物.看到这些,我的心跳不由得加快起来.这时,朋友笑着迎接我.我吞吞吐吐地说：“这……这是……我送给你的生日礼物,这是我亲手缝的.”我的朋友一打开,看见上面绣的字,激动热泪盈眶,她说：“我们一定能成为最好的朋友的,因为你给我的是真正的友谊.”大家见了,各个都投来了称赞的目光.

一、真情

游子的千层底里缝进的是亲情，黄鹤楼上遥望不归的是友情，千里孤坟埋不住的是爱情。敢问世间情为何物？情是人生的灵魂，是人生妙章中最重要的一笔。没有亲情，犹如酷寒的冬季没有结束的日期；没有友情，犹如漂泊不定的小舟没有避风的港湾；没有爱情，犹如黑夜里的寒月没有温暖和光明。

于是，“临行密密缝，意恐迟迟归”成了亲情永恒的写照；“桃花潭水深千尺，不及汪伦送我情”成为友情不变的承诺；“在天愿为比翼鸟，在地愿为连理枝”成了爱情永恒的誓言。人生最重要的应该是情，情如酒一样醇，如茶一样浓，如潭一样深。
二感激

心存对阳光雨露的感激，小草一岁一枯荣之后又萌发新绿；心存对蓝天白云的感激，雄鹰在清寒玉宇中展翅高飞；心系对巍峨高山的感激，溪水从山涧低吟下泻；心存对广袤大地的感激，泥土在田野里散发沁人的芳香。

感激是力量之源、爱心之根、勇气之本。感激父母，你将不再辜负父母的希望；感激社会，你会轻轻扶起跌倒在地的老人；感激人生，你将笑对狂风暴雨，笑迎天边那一道美丽的彩虹。
三生命

生命如画，有浓墨泼洒，也有淡笔轻描；生命如歌，有轻吟浅唱，也有黄钟大吕。君不见李太白、杜工部之一生，浓墨泼洒，铸就生命之伟大；裴多菲、雪莱之一生，淡笔轻描终写尽生命之真谛。君不见轻音浅唱之陶渊明“采菊东篱下，悠然见南山”，高歌猛进之谭嗣同“我自横刀向天笑，去留肝胆两昆仑”。

生命是山，我们无法预估它的长度，我们只好追求它的高度。生命是路，它是由一块块不起眼的沙石组成的，而不是铺金布银，平平淡淡中尽显生命之完美。生命是一叶扁舟，航行于茫茫沧海之中，只有经历暴风雨的洗礼，才会迎来明天海上初升的太阳。

曳尾涂中，大梦化蝶，庄子在他的梦想中自由畅游，他渴望无为的人生，想要至仁无亲的感情，于是在那个人人出而求仕，追逐望达的纷扰时代，肆意一生，自甘单薄，安贫乐道。他不是逃避，而是在对自己的生命负责，他选择了自己无知无欲无为的梦想，一生自在逍遥，并用自己的生命亲历升华了道家的哲学精髓，在历史的幻灯片上留下了蝴蝶羽翼般美丽飘渺的一格。

梦里挑灯看剑，眼前万里江山，辛弃疾登临亭台之上，感慨壮志难酬。他渴望杀敌报国，收复中原。正壮士，悲歌未歇，在由议诱降派掌权的朝廷中郁不得志，满怀着建功立业的期许抱憾终生。他的一生是悲剧的一生，但他的生命却因为其苦苦求索的梦想而充实闪耀。他以自己慷慨激昂壮怀激烈的诗词彪炳千古，在中国文学史上书写了充着英雄气概的一页。他的梦想，感动了无数后来的有识之士。

面朝大海 ，春暖花开，海子在他太阳的梦想下书写幻觉，书写自己对青春的追逐，对生命的歌唱。炽热的阳光，他以此作为信仰。生活艰苦，他不放弃创作，亲人不解，他依然坚持镌刻。他性格孤僻，爱情失败，事业无成，可却用执着的笔触将无数年轻的我们征服。海子曾这样总结自己：“我有三次受难：流浪、爱情、生存；我有三种幸福：诗歌、王位、太阳。”其实他不知道，他最大的幸福是放飞了文学的梦想，并让她持久飞翔。

热爱生活
热爱是风，“贫穷而能听到风声也是好的”。热爱是雨，“有情芍药含春泪”。热爱是土，俯身就能抠出一把，哪一把土壤里没有先民的血汗和未来人的绿梦呢？热爱是云，仰首就能望到一片，哪一片云里没落过孩子的向往和老人的忆念呢？
因为热爱，我们心存感激，因为热爱，我们满怀忧愤；因为热爱，我们甘于淡泊宁静的日子；也因为热爱，我们敢于金戈铁马去，马革裹尸还。忍辱负重的生，生是热爱；大义凛然地死，死是热爱；清清爽爽，认认真真地活着，活着又何尝不是热爱。
四安静
在各种生命力中，惟有安静最具影响力。阳光静静地普照大地，人的耳朵听不见任何声响，但是它却带给人无限的祝福和行善的能力。地球吸引力也是沉默无声的，它没有机器的嘎嘎声，铁链的铿锵声，也没有引擎轰隆的噪音，然而它却操纵着宇宙的星球按照一定的轨道运行不已，夜晚，露水悄然而降，润饰每一株小草，每一片树叶，每一朵花瓣，使他们焕然一新。电的本源不是轰隆的雷响，而是无声的闪电。大自然的奥秘隐含在安静之中，巨大的力量常常无息地进行。
自然界的奇迹都是在静谧中酝酿。宇宙的巨轮无声地运转。我们处在这个嘈杂的时代，如果想保持圣洁，每天必须有一段孤独安静的时刻
五成败荣辱
心的本色该是如此。成，如朗月照花，深潭微澜，不论顺逆，不论成败的超然，是扬鞭策马，登高临远的驿站；败，仍滴水穿石，汇流入海，有穷且益坚，不坠青云的傲岸，有“将相本无主，男儿当自强”的倔强。荣，江山依旧，风采犹然，恰沧海巫山，熟视岁月如流，浮华万千，不屑过眼烟云；辱，胯下韩信，雪底苍松，宛若羽化之仙，知退一步，海阔天空，不肯因噎废食。

〃I wish Central Bank would be robbed,〃George Pickens said to himself. He had been making this wish daily from the time he had started work as a teller at the bank.

All over the country banks were being robbed, George thought sourly. Why not this bank ？Were robbers scornful of its four－million－dollar capital？Were they afraid of Mr. Ackerman, the old bank guard, who hadn’t pulled out his gun in twenty－two years？

Of course, George had a reason for wanting the bank to be robbed. After all, he couldn’t simply take the thick bundles of bills that were under his hands all day long. So he had thought of another way to get them. His plan was simple. It went like this：

If Bank Robber A holds up Bank Teller B…

And if Bank Teller B gives Bank Robber A a certain amount of money…

What is to prevent Bank Teller B from keeping all the money left and claiming that it was stolen by Bank Robber A？ There was only one problem. Where was Bank Robber A？

One morning George entered the bank feeling something was about to happen.〃Good morning, Mr. Burrows.〃he said cheerfully. The bank president muttered something and went into his office.

At two o’clock Bank Robber A walked in. George knew he was a bank robber. For one thing, he slunk in. For another thing, he wore a mask.

〃This is a holdup.〃the man said roughly. He took a pistol from his pocket. The guard made a small sound.〃You,〃the bank robber said,〃lie down on the floor.〃Mr. Ackerman lay down. The robber stepped over to George’s cage.

〃All right.〃he said.〃Hand it over.〃〃Yes, sir.〃said George.〃Would you like it in ten－or－twenty－dollar bills？〃

〃Just hand it over！〃

George reached into his cashbox and took all the bills from the top section, close to six thousand dollars. He passed them through the window. The robber snatched them, stuffed them into his pocket, and turned to leave.

Then, while everyone watched Bank Robber A, Bank Teller B calmly lifted off the top section of the cashbox and slipped bills from the bottom section into his pockets.

The bank robber was gone. George fainted. When he woke he smiled up at the worried faces looking down at him.〃I’m all right.〃he said bravely.

〃Perhaps you should go home, George.〃Mr. Bell, the chief auditor, said.

As soon as he was safely behind his bedroom door, George took the money from his pockets and counted it. He had seven thousand dollars. He was very happy。

The next morning when George arrived at the bank, it was not open for business. But everyone was there, helping to examine the bank’s records for the special audit Mr. Bell was taking.

George was called into Mr. Burrows’s office. The bank president seemed strangely cheerful.〃George,〃he said,〃I want you to meet Mr. Carruthers, who used to be president of our bank.〃

〃Good morning, George.〃said Mr. Carruthers.〃I was sorry to hear you fainted yesterday. Are you all right now？〃

〃Yes, sir. Just fine, thanks.〃

〃I’m glad to hear it. That was quite an adventure. It just goes to show how easy it is to rob our bank.〃

〃Sir？〃said George, confused.〃

George, I was sorry to give you a hard time yesterday, but with all the banks being robbed these days I thought it would be a good idea to prove that our little bank can be robbed too. I have retired, but I haven’t stopped thinking. That’s why I played my little game yesterday, just to keep everybody on his toes.〃

〃I don’t understand.〃said George.〃What game？〃

The old man laughed and whipped out a mask. He placed it over his face and said,〃All right. Hand it over！〃Mr. Burrows laughed but George did not.

〃And the money？〃George asked in a small voice.

〃Don’t worry.〃Mr. Carruthers said.〃I put it all back in your cashbox, all six thousand. We’re just finishing up the audit now.〃George turned cold with fear.

Behind them, the door opened and Mr. Bell, the chief auditor, put his head into the room.〃Mr.Burrows,〃he said gravely,〃may I see you a moment？〃

Suddenly the lights went out. The constant drone of the air conditioner was replaced with absolute silence.2 I flipped the light switch on and off, but nothing happened. Then the lights began to flicker, giving the room a vague glow. This was very bizarre; the power doesn't usually go off in Manhattan.3

I heard a knock at the door. I peered through the peephole4, and there was my father. As I opened the door, Dad began talking although he seemed strangely out of breath5, "The power is out all along the northern east coast. People are saying that something went wrong at Niagara Falls. A power line must have failed.6"

I was astounded. Power line?

I was getting on the elevator, and the door wouldn't close. I got irritated with it and finally climbed down to the lobby — all nine stories — to find out what the matter was.7 That was just like Dad to get angry at something that didn't work.

All of a sudden, we heard people shouting from outside. Dad opened up the window. "Wow, look out there!" Intrigued, I opened another window and looked out. The street was packed with cars whose drivers didn't know when or where to go. Policemen filled the streets trying to mollify the pandemonium.8 Right across the road, workers, who had been trapped on the eleventh floor while building, attempted to cling to railing and climb down to safety.9 Peoples' interrogating and raucous shouts filled the hot August air.10

I realized my father was speaking, "We can't stay up here. With no power, there will be no emergency services. If the building caught on fire, we'd be trapped. Let's go and I'll try to call Mom." He grabbed some cash and the cell phone. I followed him in the fatiguing11 trip down the stairs to the lobby. Why couldn't we have gotten a room on the first floor?

I took a small couch and sat down. The stifling12 hotel lobby was full of people. Some were hoping to get a room; others had returned to the hotel because their flights had been canceled. Many attempted to contact family or friends on cell phones. I relaxed on the couch, noticing the only light in the room was from the few sunrays that managed to enter through the windows.13 Restless, Dad left to wander around Times Square. He could never sit around without being occupied.14

After what seemed like hours, Dad finally returned. I let him sit on the couch while I tried to cool down on the marble floor. The sun had set, and the room was dark, illuminated only by two small candles that tossed shadows upon the wall.15

I lay down on the floor and tried to nap. The surface was very hard, but it was nice and cool. I drifted off to sleep16 only to awaken immediately. At first this had been an exciting adventure, but now I just wished the electricity would come back on so we would be able to go back to our room. I lay there with my eyes closed, unable to sleep, listening to people nearby as they talked. I must have finally fallen asleep though, for I woke up and asked Dad what time it was.

"Eight. The lights are on two blocks down from us. The power should come back on pretty soon." He paused, a look of reverie17 on his face, "You know, last night I was able to see the stars over Times Square. I wonder how long it's been since somebody was able to say that."

All of a sudden, the chandelier18 came on. Cheers, clapping and laughter filled the room. People sighed and stretched, having spent the interminable night sitting on the floor or couch, just as I had.19

Dad and I got on the elevator, and I waited impatiently as it slowly made the journey to the ninth floor. Gleefully, I walked into our room ready for a long nap.

As it turned out, we got to see the Statue of Liberty, Staten Island, Ground Zero, the Empire State Building and Phantom of the Opera on Broadway.20 Somehow, though, I always felt that Dad was most impressed when the gaudy man-made lights of New York City were temporarily extinguished and the quiet splendour of God's handiwork shone through.21-

The Cheating Wife

他没想到他热恋的情人竟然是一个水性杨花的女人！

Marcus Osborne sat on his office chair with his feet propped<注2> atop his desk. He reflected, if any one came \into\ my office at this moment he would think I was the epitome of the happy and able private detective? and he wouldn't be too far off the mark.<注3>

Osborne was in his early thirties, slightly over six feet, with strong classic features and thick black hair. He knew he was a handsome man. After three years in the business, his private detective agency had a good reputation in the city. He was single and in love. The only drawback to this picture was that the object of his feelings was a married woman.<注4>

Three knocks on the door of the office brought him back to reality. "Come in," he said, taking his feet off the desk.

A slender middle-aged man with thinning hair and rimless glasses, dressed in an expensive suit, opened the door and walked in.<注5> The detective got up from behind his desk and shook the newcomer's hand.

"Please sit down. I'm Marcus Osborne, director of the agency. What can I do for you?" He said this with a half-anxious expression which he had practiced in the mirror many times.

"My name is Harold Jones." He spoke in a low voice. "You have been highly recommended to me. I have a very sensitive matter to discuss and I've heard your agency is very discreet<注6>."

Osborne acknowledged the words with a modest inclination of his head.<注7>

Looking away, Osborne's new client explained. "I suspect my wife is cheating on me but I want to be sure. I want you to investigate... Follow her when she leaves our apartment, let me know \where\ she goes and who she sees."

"We can give you a complete and detailed report. When would you like it?"

"I guess two weeks will be good enough. Unless you think you should follow her longer."

"We'll see ... but two weeks may be okay."

"Fine. This is my card with my address. And here is an envelope with her picture and a check for an advance payment<注8>. I already know your rate. Please don't spare any expense.<注9>"

"What's your wife's name?"

"Christine Ann."

Osborne held his breath. Christine Ann was his lover's name. This man must be her husband. He opened the envelope and looked at the picture and the check, hoping to gain time and recover his cool.

Jones perceived his seriousness as a desire to start work on the job at once. "I see you're a man of few words. I'm sure you'll give me a thorough report next time I see you. Good day."

Marcus finally found his voice. "Good day, Mr. Jones," he said, getting up from his chair and walking his new client to the door.

After Jones was gone, Marcus sat down again at his desk. He was stunned<注10>. Mechanically, he opened the lower right-hand drawer and took out a bottle of Scotch and a glass. He poured himself a generous shot and, while sipping it, pondered how to handle this tricky situation.<注11>

So his new client was Christine Ann's husband. Not much to look at<注12>, he thought. No wonder she wants to get a divorce and marry me. Besides, he thought, she's in love with me.

He knew he couldn't give this client a true report. Still, he had to make a report.

He decided to give his operative<注13> Scott Palmer the job and to stay away from Christine Ann during the two weeks of the investigation. He would tell her about her husband's suspicions later, after he had delivered the report. They would have a good laugh then.

Two weeks later, Scott Palmer, twenty-one, eager, and in love with his job, came \into\ Osborne's office. "I've finished the Jones investigation. I'll have the report on your desk first thing<注14> tomorrow morning."

"Great! Do me a favor now, will you? Call Mr. Jones and ask him to come to the office tomorrow morning at ten."

"You got it. See you tomorrow."

But the next morning when Jones walked \into\ the office, Scott hadn't finished the report yet.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones. Sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?" said Osborne, trying to gain some time until his operative brought in the report.

"That would be nice. Thanks."

Osborne poured scalding hot coffee into styrofoam cups, placing the sugar and cream within Jones's reach.<注15>

When they had started drinking the coffee, Scott walked into the office and, after greeting Jones, gave a folder to his boss. Quickly, Osborne took out the original<注16> and gave it to his client, keeping the duplicate face down in front of him.<注17>

Jones read the report without a change of expression. When he finished, he looked at Osborne directly and said, "Three."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I was afraid of something like this. Three of them in only two weeks.""What are you talking about?"

"Your report. It's really complete. It shows that she had three lovers in two weeks."

Osborne choked<注18> on his coffee, spilling some on top of the copy of the report in front of him. He exclaimed, "What!? Oh, pardon me." And, using the excuse of wiping the coffee from each page of the report, started reading it.

When he finished, he felt weak and exhausted. With an effort, he raised his eyes to the face of his client, who, with a knowing<注19> look, asked slowly, enunciating each word very clearly, in a tone that really didn't anticipate an answer,<注20> "Don't you believe that there are some women you just can't trust?"

The Cheating Wife

他没想到他热恋的情人竟然是一个水性杨花的女人！

Marcus Osborne sat on his office chair with his feet propped<注2> atop his desk. He reflected, if any one came \into\ my office at this moment he would think I was the epitome of the happy and able private detective? and he wouldn't be too far off the mark.<注3>

Osborne was in his early thirties, slightly over six feet, with strong classic features and thick black hair. He knew he was a handsome man. After three years in the business, his private detective agency had a good reputation in the city. He was single and in love. The only drawback to this picture was that the object of his feelings was a married woman.<注4>

Three knocks on the door of the office brought him back to reality. "Come in," he said, taking his feet off the desk.

A slender middle-aged man with thinning hair and rimless glasses, dressed in an expensive suit, opened the door and walked in.<注5> The detective got up from behind his desk and shook the newcomer's hand.

"Please sit down. I'm Marcus Osborne, director of the agency. What can I do for you?" He said this with a half-anxious expression which he had practiced in the mirror many times.

"My name is Harold Jones." He spoke in a low voice. "You have been highly recommended to me. I have a very sensitive matter to discuss and I've heard your agency is very discreet<注6>."

Osborne acknowledged the words with a modest inclination of his head.<注7>

Looking away, Osborne's new client explained. "I suspect my wife is cheating on me but I want to be sure. I want you to investigate... Follow her when she leaves our apartment, let me know \where\ she goes and who she sees."

"We can give you a complete and detailed report. When would you like it?"

"I guess two weeks will be good enough. Unless you think you should follow her longer."

"We'll see ... but two weeks may be okay."

"Fine. This is my card with my address. And here is an envelope with her picture and a check for an advance payment<注8>. I already know your rate. Please don't spare any expense.<注9>"

"What's your wife's name?"

"Christine Ann."

Osborne held his breath. Christine Ann was his lover's name. This man must be her husband. He opened the envelope and looked at the picture and the check, hoping to gain time and recover his cool.

Jones perceived his seriousness as a desire to start work on the job at once. "I see you're a man of few words. I'm sure you'll give me a thorough report next time I see you. Good day."

Marcus finally found his voice. "Good day, Mr. Jones," he said, getting up from his chair and walking his new client to the door.

After Jones was gone, Marcus sat down again at his desk. He was stunned<注10>. Mechanically, he opened the lower right-hand drawer and took out a bottle of Scotch and a glass. He poured himself a generous shot and, while sipping it, pondered how to handle this tricky situation.<注11>

So his new client was Christine Ann's husband. Not much to look at<注12>, he thought. No wonder she wants to get a divorce and marry me. Besides, he thought, she's in love with me.

He knew he couldn't give this client a true report. Still, he had to make a report.

He decided to give his operative<注13> Scott Palmer the job and to stay away from Christine Ann during the two weeks of the investigation. He would tell her about her husband's suspicions later, after he had delivered the report. They would have a good laugh then.

Two weeks later, Scott Palmer, twenty-one, eager, and in love with his job, came \into\ Osborne's office. "I've finished the Jones investigation. I'll have the report on your desk first thing<注14> tomorrow morning."

"Great! Do me a favor now, will you? Call Mr. Jones and ask him to come to the office tomorrow morning at ten."

"You got it. See you tomorrow."

But the next morning when Jones walked \into\ the office, Scott hadn't finished the report yet.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones. Sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?" said Osborne, trying to gain some time until his operative brought in the report.

"That would be nice. Thanks."

Osborne poured scalding hot coffee into styrofoam cups, placing the sugar and cream within Jones's reach.<注15>

When they had started drinking the coffee, Scott walked into the office and, after greeting Jones, gave a folder to his boss. Quickly, Osborne took out the original<注16> and gave it to his client, keeping the duplicate face down in front of him.<注17>

Jones read the report without a change of expression. When he finished, he looked at Osborne directly and said, "Three."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I was afraid of something like this. Three of them in only two weeks.""What are you talking about?"

"Your report. It's really complete. It shows that she had three lovers in two weeks."

Osborne choked<注18> on his coffee, spilling some on top of the copy of the report in front of him. He exclaimed, "What!? Oh, pardon me." And, using the excuse of wiping the coffee from each page of the report, started reading it.

When he finished, he felt weak and exhausted. With an effort, he raised his eyes to the face of his client, who, with a knowing<注19> look, asked slowly, enunciating each word very clearly, in a tone that really didn't anticipate an answer,<注20> "Don't you believe that there are some women you just can't trust?"

---

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