Tuesdays with Morrie相约星期二 英文原版 [平装] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

简体网页||繁体网页

☆☆☆☆☆

Mitch Albom（米奇·阿尔博姆） 著

图书标签:

• 自传
• 励志
• 人生哲学
• 死亡
• 师生关系
• 美国文学
• 平装书
• 情感
• 回忆录
• 沟通

出版社： Crown Trade Group

ISBN：9780767905923

商品编码：19041583

包装：平装

出版时间：2002-10-08

用纸：胶版纸

页数：192

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：12.7x1.52x18.29cm

编辑推荐

　　一个老人，一个年轻人，和一堂人生课。余秋雨教授推荐！
　　《相约星期二》的作者是美国一位颇有成就的专栏作家、电台主持，步入中年以后虽然事业有成，却常常有一种莫名的失落感。一个偶然的机会，他得知昔日自己最尊敬的老教授身患不治之症，便前往探视，并与老教授相约每周二探讨人生。《相约星期二》的主要篇幅就是记述这些谈话的内容。最终，老教授撒手人寰，但作者却从他独特的人生观中得到了启迪，重新找到了生活的意义。《相约星期二》语言流畅，寓意深远，在美国的畅销书排行榜上名列前茅，且有可观的市场潜力。

内容简介

Maybe it was a grandparent, or a teacher, or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and searching, helped you see the world as a more profound place, gave you sound advice to help you make your way through it.
For Mitch Albom, that person was Morrie Schwartz, his college professor from nearly twenty years ago.
Maybe, like Mitch, you lost track of this mentor as you made your way, and the insights faded, and the world seemed colder. Wouldn't you like to see that person again, ask the bigger questions that still haunt you, receive wisdom for your busy life today the way you once did when you were younger?
Mitch Albom had that second chance. He rediscovered Morrie in the last months of the older man's life. Knowing he was dying, Morrie visited with Mitch in his study every Tuesday, just as they used to back in college. Their rekindled relationship turned into one final "class": lessons in how to live.
Tuesdays with Morrie is a magical chronicle of their time together, through which Mitch shares Morrie's lasting gift with the world.

　　这是一个真实的故事：年逾七旬的社会心理学教授莫里在一九九四年罹患肌萎性侧索硬化，一年以后与世长辞。作为莫里早年的得意门生，米奇在老教授缠绵病榻的十四周里，每周二都上门与他相伴，聆听他最后的教诲，并在他死后将老师的醒世箴缀珠成链，冠名《相约星期二》。
　　作者米奇·阿尔博姆是美国著名作家、广播电视主持人，对于他来说，与恩师“相约星期二”的经历不啻为一个重新审视自己、重读人生必修课的机会。这门人生课震撼着作者，也藉由作者的妙笔，感动整个世界。本书在全美各大图书畅销排行榜上停留四年之久，被译成包括中文在内的三十一种文字，成为近年来图书出版业的奇迹。

作者简介

Mitch Albom is an author, playwright, and screenwriter who has written seven books, including the international bestseller Tuesdays with Morrie, the bestselling memoir of all time. His first novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, was an instant #1 New York Times bestseller, as were For One More Day, his second novel, and Have a Little Faith, his most recent work of nonfiction. All four books were made into acclaimed TV films. Albom also works as a columnist and a broadcaster and has founded seven charities in Detroit and Haiti, where he operates an orphanage/mission. He lives with his wife, Janine, in Michigan.

　　米奇·阿尔博姆（1959—），美国著名专栏作家，电台主持，电视评论员，此外还是活跃的慈善活动家。迄今为止，阿尔博姆已出版九部畅销著作，其中纪实作品《相约星期二》在全美各大图书畅销排行榜上停留四年之久，被译成包括中文在内的三十一种文字，全球累计销量超过两千万册，成为近年来图书出版业的奇迹。

精彩书评

"This is a sweet book of a man's love for his mentor. It has a stubborn honesty that nourishes the living."
--Robert Bly, author of Iron John

"A deeply moving account of courage and wisdom, shared by an inveterate mentor looking into the multitextured face of his own death. There is much to be learned by sitting in on this final class."
--Jon Kabat-Zinn, coauthor of Everyday Blessings and Wherever You Go, There You Are

"All of the saints and Buddhas have taught us that wisdom and compassion are one. Now along comes Morrie, who makes it perfectly plain. His living and dying show us the way."
--Joanna Bull, Founder and Executive Director of Gilda's Club

　　临终前，他要给学生上最后一门课，课程名称是人生。上了十四周，最后一堂是葬礼。他把课堂留下了，课堂越变越大，现在延伸到了中国。我向过路的朋友们大声招呼：来，值得进去听听。
　　——余秋雨

前言/序言

The Curriculum
The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class met on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was The Meaning of Life. It was taught from experience.
No grades were given, but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor's head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit.
No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. The last lecture was brief, only a few words.
A funeral was held in lieu of graduation.
Although no final exam was given, you were expected to produce one long paper on what was learned. That paper is presented here.
The last class of my old professor's life had only one student.
I was the student.
It is the late spring of 1979, a hot, sticky Saturday afternoon. Hundreds of us sit together, side by side, in rows of wooden folding chairs on the main campus lawn. We wear blue nylon robes. We listen impatiently to long speeches. When the ceremony is over, we throw our caps in the air, and we are officially graduated from college, the senior class of Brandeis University in the city of Waltham, Massachusetts. For many of us, the curtain has just come down on childhood.
Afterward, I find Morrie Schwartz, my favorite professor, and introduce him to my parents. He is a small man who takes small steps, as if a strong wind could, at any time, whisk him up into the clouds. In his graduation day robe, he looks like a cross between a biblical prophet and a Christmas elf. He has sparkling blue-green eyes, thinning silver hair that spills onto his forehead, big ears, a triangular nose, and tufts of graying eyebrows. Although his teeth are crooked and his lower ones are slanted back--as if someone had once punched them in--when he smiles it's as if you'd just told him the first joke on earth.
He tells my parents how I took every class he taught. He tells them, "You have a special boy here." Embarrassed, I look at my feet. Before we leave, I hand my professor a present, a tan briefcase with his initials on the front. I bought this the day before at a shopping mall. I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me.
"Mitch, you are one of the good ones," he says, admiring the briefcase. Then he hugs me. I feel his thin arms around my back. I am taller than he is, and when he holds me, I feel awkward, older, as if I were the parent and he were the child.
He asks if I will stay in touch, and without hesitation I say, "Of course."
When he steps back, I see that he is crying.

The Syllabus
His death sentence came in the summer of 1994. Looking back, Morrie knew something bad was coming long before that. He knew it the day he gave up dancing.
He had always been a dancer, my old professor. The music didn't matter. Rock and roll, big band, the blues. He loved them all. He would close his eyes and with a blissful smile begin to move to his own sense of rhythm. It wasn't always pretty. But then, he didn't worry about a partner. Morrie danced by himself.
He used to go to this church in Harvard Square every Wednesday night for something called "Dance Free." They had flashing lights and booming speakers and Morrie would wander in among the mostly student crowd, wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants and a towel around his neck, and whatever music was playing, that's the music to which he danced. He'd do the lindy to Jimi Hendrix. He twisted and twirled, he waved his arms like a conductor on amphetamines, until sweat was dripping down the middle of his back. No one there knew he was a prominent doctor of sociology, with years of experience as a college professor and several well-respected books. They just thought he was some old nut.
Once, he brought a tango tape and got them to play it over the speakers. Then he commandeered the floor, shooting back and forth like some hot Latin lover. When he finished, everyone applauded. He could have stayed in that moment forever.
But then the dancing stopped.
He developed asthma in his sixties. His breathing became labored. One day he was walking along the Charles River, and a cold burst of wind left him choking for air. He was rushed to the hospital and injected with Adrenalin.
A few years later, he began to have trouble walking. At a birthday party for a friend, he stumbled inexplicably. Another night, he fell down the steps of a theater, startling a small crowd of people.
"Give him air!" someone yelled.
He was in his seventies by this point, so they whispered "old age" and helped him to his feet. But Morrie, who was always more in touch with his insides than the rest of us, knew something else was wrong. This was more than old age. He was weary all the time. He had trouble sleeping. He dreamt he was dying.
He began to see doctors. Lots of them. They tested his blood. They tested his urine. They put a scope up his rear end and looked inside his intestines. Finally, when nothing could be found, one doctor ordered a muscle biopsy, taking a small piece out of Morrie's calf. The lab report came back suggesting a neurological problem, and Morrie was brought in for yet another series of tests. In one of those tests, he sat in a special seat as they zapped him with electrical current--an electric chair, of sorts--and studied his neurological responses.
"We need to check this further," the doctors said, looking over his results.
"Why?" Morrie asked. "What is it?"
"We're not sure. Your times are slow."
His times were slow? What did that mean?
Finally, on a hot, humid day in August 1994, Morrie and his wife, Charlotte, went to the neurologist's office, and he asked them to sit before he broke the news: Morrie had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Lou Gehrig's disease, a brutal, unforgiving illness of the neurological system.
There was no known cure.
"How did I get it?" Morrie asked.
Nobody knew.
"Is it terminal?"
Yes.
"So I'm going to die?"
Yes, you are, the doctor said. I'm very sorry.
He sat with Morrie and Charlotte for nearly two hours, patiently answering their questions. When they left, the doctor gave them some information on ALS, little pamphlets, as if they were opening a bank account. Outside, the sun was shining and people were going about their business. A woman ran to put money in the parking meter. Another carried groceries. Charlotte had a million thoughts running through her mind: How much time do we have left? How will we manage? How will we pay the bills?
My old professor, meanwhile, was stunned by the normalcy of the day around him. Shouldn't the world stop? Don't they know what has happened to me?
But the world did not stop, it took no notice at all, and as Morrie pulled weakly on the car door, he felt as if he were dropping into a hole.
Now what? he thought.
As my old professor searched for answers, the disease took him over, day by day, week by week. He backed the car out of the garage one morning and could barely push the brakes. That was the end of his driving.
He kept tripping, so he purchased a cane. That was the end of his walking free.
He went for his regular swim at the YMCA, but found he could no longer undress himself. So he hired his first home care worker--a theology student named Tony--who helped him in and out of the pool, and in and out of his bathing suit. In the locker room, the other swimmers pretended not to stare. They stared anyhow. That was the end of his privacy.
In the fall of 1994, Morrie came to the hilly Brandeis campus to teach his final college course. He could have skipped this, of course. The university would have understood. Why suffer in front of so many people? Stay at home. Get your affairs in order. But the idea of quitting did not occur to Morrie.
Instead, he hobbled into the classroom, his home for more than thirty years. Because of the cane, he took a while to reach the chair. Finally, he sat down, dropped his glasses off his nose, and looked out at the young faces who stared back in silence.
"My friends, I assume you are all here for the Social Psychology class. I have been teaching this course for twenty years, and this is the first time I can say there is a risk in taking it, because I have a fatal illness. I may not live to finish the semester.
"If you feel this is a problem, I understand if you wish to drop the course."
He smiled.
And that was the end of his secret.
ALS is like a lit candle: it melts your nerves and leaves your body a pile of wax. Often. ...

好的，这是一本关于历史、文化和个人成长的虚构书籍的详细简介： 《星尘与铁轨：铁路线上的百年回响》 作者：伊莱亚斯·凡恩 (Elias Thorne) 类型：历史小说 / 家族史诗 / 工业革命 字数：约 1500 字 序章：锈蚀的誓言 在十九世纪中叶，当蒸汽的咆哮声第一次撕裂了英格兰北部沉寂的乡野时，很少有人预见到，这条由钢铁和煤灰构筑的生命线，将如何深刻地重塑一个家族的命运，以及整个社会的肌理。 《星尘与铁轨：铁路线上的百年回响》并非讲述一个人的故事，而是描绘了一条横跨百年的情感、野心与牺牲交织的巨幅画卷。故事的起点，是约克郡的一片贫瘠土地，以及两个截然不同的灵魂——詹姆斯·阿什沃思，一个靠着矿井的微薄收入勉强度日的石匠之子，以及埃莉诺·哈珀，一位受过良好教育、心怀自由思想的工厂主女儿。 当第一根枕木被钉入泥土，当第一台蒸汽机在呜咽中觉醒，詹姆斯的命运被紧紧地与这条新兴的“铁龙”捆绑在了一起。他凭借着惊人的韧性和对机械的直觉理解，从一个卑微的铺路工，一步步爬升为铁路建设的关键人物。然而，进步的代价是沉重的。他的双手布满了老茧和永久的伤痕，他的青春被无尽的黑夜和爆炸声吞噬。他象征着那个时代底层人民的辛勤付出，他们的汗水和鲜血，成了驱动工业巨轮滚滚向前的燃料。 与此同时，埃莉诺，她的家族掌控着沿线重要的纺织厂。她目睹着铁路带来的财富和便利，也亲眼目睹了工人阶级的悲惨境遇。她的内心充满了矛盾：她渴望利用铁路开拓更广阔的市场，实现家族的荣耀，但她无法忽视工厂烟囱下聚集的阴影和儿童的哀鸣。她对詹姆斯的感情，是那个时代阶级鸿沟最直观的体现——一种被社会结构刻意隔离的吸引力。 第一部：熔炉的洗礼（1850-1880） 故事初期，焦点集中在铁路建设的野蛮生长。凡恩以细腻的笔触，重现了维多利亚时代工程师们的雄心壮志与工程师们的孤注一掷。我们跟随詹姆斯深入幽深的隧道，体验爆破前的紧张，感受煤灰在肺腑中留下的灼烧感。 这一部分深入探讨了工程奇迹背后的社会代价：工人罢工、恶劣的工作条件、地方政治的腐败，以及新兴资产阶级对旧有贵族体系的冲击。小说巧妙地插入了大量基于真实历史记录的细节，如早期蒸汽火车的技术迭代，信号系统的原始结构，以及铁路沿线小镇的快速畸形发展。 詹姆斯和埃莉诺的爱情线，在一次关键的事故中达到高潮——一座尚未完工的桥梁在暴风雨中坍塌。詹姆斯奋不顾身地挽救了包括埃莉诺哥哥在内的数条生命，这次事件不仅赢得了埃莉诺家族的尊重，也使得两人的关系从秘密的会面走向了公开的对抗。 第二部：帝国之翼（1881-1920） 随着“大融合”时代的到来，铁路不再仅仅是运输工具，它成为了大英帝国扩张的动脉。詹姆斯·阿什沃思，现在已是铁路总监，他的视野从约克郡延伸到了苏伊士，甚至更远。他试图用现代化的管理理念和对工人的体恤，去弥补他对家庭和埃莉诺的亏欠。 然而，时代赋予他的权力也带来了新的困境。他的儿子，亚瑟，一个接受了柏林先进工程学教育的年轻人，开始质疑父亲的保守策略。亚瑟代表了新一代的理想主义者，他相信效率和科学管理至上，与父亲坚守的“人情味”管理产生了剧烈的冲突。 埃莉诺在此阶段则将精力投入到社会改革中。她利用家族财富建立了铁路工人子弟学校和夜校，试图在冰冷的机器和严酷的制度中，为底层家庭保留一丝人性的光辉。她与丈夫詹姆斯的交流，越来越像是两位理念不同的管理者在交换报告，昔日的激情被岁月的风霜和责任的重压所取代。 第二次工业革命的浪潮，带来电力和更快的机车。小说在此描绘了传统蒸汽动力与新兴电力技术之间的技术路线之争，以及詹姆斯如何在保守与革新之间，艰难地保持着铁路网络的稳定与盈利。 第三部：裂痕与重建（1921-1950） 两次世界大战的阴影，彻底改变了铁路的格局。铁路系统从商业工具，转变为国家战略资产。詹姆斯的孙辈——一个名为托马斯的年轻工程师，站在了时代的新风口上。 托马斯代表了战后更加务实和注重国家利益的一代人。他亲眼目睹了战争中铁路系统遭受的巨大破坏，以及和平时期交通部门的官僚主义和效率低下。他必须面对的挑战，是如何将一个充满历史遗留问题的庞大帝国体系，改造为一个适应现代社会需求的国家铁路网络。 《星尘与铁轨》的后半部分，巧妙地将个人命运与国家政策紧密结合。托马斯在推动铁路国有化进程中，与政府机构、工会领袖以及退役军人代表周旋。他必须平衡祖父詹姆斯建立起来的家族声誉、父亲亚瑟留下的工程遗产，以及他自己对更高效、更平等的公共服务的追求。 小说的高潮部分，聚焦于战后经济重建时期，一次关于新技术应用（如柴油化）的激烈辩论。托马斯发现，尽管技术在进步，但人与人之间的信任和沟通，依然是任何宏大工程成功的基石。他最终理解了祖父詹姆斯在隧道深处与工人们分享的粗糙面包中蕴含的智慧——技术可以改变路线，但人性决定了速度和方向。 尾声：超越地平线 故事在二十世纪五十年代中期，当铁路系统完成结构性改革、进入现代化客运时代时缓缓收束。最后的场景是托马斯站在翻新后的约克郡车站台上，看着一列流线型的列车疾驰而过，留下一串不再是浓烈煤烟味的尾气。 《星尘与铁轨》是一部关于“连接”的史诗。它探讨了技术进步的不可阻挡性，财富积累的道德困境，以及代际之间的责任传承。通过阿什沃思家族三代人对一条铁路线的投入与付出，读者得以窥见工业化进程中，普通人的挣扎、梦想与最终的和解。这是一部关于坚韧、关于变革，以及关于那条永不停歇的钢铁之魂的深刻叙事。 （本书包含大量对十九世纪末至二十世纪中叶的工业技术、社会阶层变迁和铁路发展史的详尽描绘，适合对英国工业史和家族叙事感兴趣的读者。）

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的语言风格，用“质朴无华”来形容再合适不过了。作者没有使用华丽的辞藻，也没有故弄玄虚的句子，而是用最直接、最真诚的语言，将内心的感悟娓娓道来。这种简练而富有力量的表达方式，反而更能触动人心，让读者在阅读的过程中，感受到一种前所未有的亲切感和共鸣。我尤其喜欢作者在描述情感时那种不动声色的细腻，没有歇斯底里的宣泄，也没有矫揉造作的堆砌，而是如同涓涓细流，缓缓渗入读者的心田，留下淡淡的温暖和回味。每一个字句，都像是经过精心打磨的宝石，虽然外表朴素，却蕴含着熠熠生辉的光芒。这种“少即是多”的写作艺术，在如今追求“大而全”的时代，显得尤为可贵。它让我想起那些古老的箴言，简洁却蕴含着深刻的智慧。阅读的过程，就像是在与一位智者对话，他用最朴素的语言，点醒你内心深处最真实的想法，让你重新审视自己的人生。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的叙事节奏处理得非常巧妙，张弛有度，引人入胜。作者在讲述故事时，并没有刻意去制造惊险刺激的情节，而是通过对生活细节的细腻描绘，以及对人物内心世界的深入挖掘，来构建起一个引人入胜的叙事框架。有时，故事的推进会显得缓慢而沉静，仿佛慢镜头般细腻地展现每一个瞬间；有时，又会因为情感的爆发而节奏加快，让读者也随之紧张、激动。这种自然的起伏，让整个阅读体验变得十分流畅，不会让人生出丝毫的乏味感。仿佛置身于一场精心编排的交响乐，有舒缓的旋律，也有激昂的乐章，但整体的和谐统一，让人沉醉其中，久久不能自拔。我发现自己常常会在某个情节处停下来，细细品味，然后在下一个情节的推动下，又被深深吸引，迫不及待地想知道接下来会发生什么。这种循序渐进，又时而带来惊喜的叙事方式，是这本书最吸引我的地方之一。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的装帧设计很朴实，拿在手里有一种温润的质感，纸张的触感也恰到好处，既不会太薄以至于透页，也不会太厚重而显得笨拙。封面上的插画虽然简单，却散发出一种宁静而深邃的意味，仿佛在邀请读者一同踏上一段心灵的旅程。阅读过程中，我时常会停下来，感受指尖滑过书页的细腻纹理，这种触觉上的体验，在如今电子阅读盛行的时代，显得尤为珍贵。它让我更加专注于书本本身，沉浸在文字带来的思考和情感之中，仿佛与作者进行着一场跨越时空的对话。每一次翻页，都伴随着纸张轻柔的沙沙声，这种声音如同序曲，为下一段精彩的内容拉开了帷幕。平装本的便携性也让我爱不释手，无论是在通勤的路上，还是在午后慵懒的时光里，都可以随时随地拿出它，享受阅读的乐趣。它不像精装本那样有距离感，更像是一位老朋友，随时准备与你分享内心的故事。它的存在，不仅仅是一本书，更是一种生活态度的体现，一种回归简单、回归质朴的美学追求。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书所传递的某种情感共鸣，简直是无法言喻的。它不像那种直白的励志读物，一味地灌输“你要坚强”、“你要努力”之类的口号。相反，它更像是打开了一扇通往内心深处的门，让你有机会去面对那些被忽略、被压抑的情感。在阅读的过程中，我时常会发现自己的眼眶湿润，不是因为悲伤，而是一种复杂的情绪，夹杂着感动、理解、甚至一丝释然。它让我意识到，原来自己内心的某些感受，并不是孤单的，原来在生活的某个角落，也有人在经历着相似的挣扎和思考。这种跨越时空的共鸣，让这本书变得如此特别，它不仅仅是一本书，更像是一位知己，一位心灵的伙伴，在你最需要的时候，给予你无声的慰藉和力量。它让我重新审视自己的生活，发现那些被忽略的美好，也更加懂得珍惜当下。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的内容，总能在不经意间触动我内心最柔软的地方。它没有宏大的叙事，也没有惊天动地的事件，而是将目光聚焦于日常生活的点滴，以及人与人之间最纯粹的情感联结。作者以一种极其平和且充满智慧的方式，探讨着生命中的许多重要议题，比如爱、失去、成长、以及如何真正地去生活。每一次阅读，都像是一次心灵的洗礼，让我有机会放慢脚步，审视自己的人生轨迹，思考那些真正重要的东西。它就像一面镜子，映照出我内心深处的渴望和困惑，也指引我找到属于自己的方向。我发现，这本书并非那种读完就束之高阁的读物，而是会时不时地浮现在我的脑海里，在某个特定的时刻，给予我新的启示。它是一种潜移默化的影响，一种润物细无声的改变，让我对生活有了更深刻的理解和更积极的态度。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

书还是不错的，但说实话不知是国外太环保，还是这是盗版的，纸质不行。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

纯国外英文书，小小的一本

评分☆☆☆☆☆

孙二掌柜的像是早就得到了消息，老远地向着来人注视着，狗颠屁股似地迎了上去。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

价格在打折的基础上还是有些小贵。不过重在内容精妙~

评分☆☆☆☆☆

暑假作业麽 哎呀贵死了 没多厚一本小小说

评分☆☆☆☆☆

纸质真的太差了

评分☆☆☆☆☆

质量不错，应该是正版

评分☆☆☆☆☆

非常好，正版也便宜，网购确实给读者带来了方便。送货师傅态度也很好的，还来哦 高尔基先生说过：“书籍是人类进步的阶梯。”书还能带给你许多重要的好处。 多读书，可以让你觉得有许多的写作灵感。可以让你在写作文的方法上用的更好。在写作的时候，我们往往可以运用一些书中的好词好句和生活哲理。让别人觉得你更富有文采，美感。 多读书，可以让你全身都有礼节。俗话说：“第一印象最重要。”从你留给别人的第一印象中，就可以让别人看出你是什么样的人。所以多读书可以让人感觉你知书答礼，颇有风度。 多读书，可以让你多增加一些课外知识。培根先生说过：“知识就是力量。”不错，多读书，增长了课外知识，可以让你感到浑身充满了一股力量。这种力量可以激励着你不断地前进，不断地成长。从书中，你往往可以发现自己身上的不足之处，使你不断地改正错误，摆正自己前进的方向。所以，书也是我们的良师益友。 多读书，可以让你变聪明，变得有智慧去战胜对手。书让你变得更聪明，你就可以勇敢地面对困难。让你用自己的方法来解决这个问题。这样，你又向你自己的人生道路上迈出了一步。 多读书，也能使你的心情便得快乐。读书也是一种休闲，一种娱乐的方式。读书可以调节身体的血管流动，使你身心健康。所以在书的海洋里遨游也是一种无限快乐的事情。用读书来为自己放松心情也是一种十分明智的。 读书能陶冶人的情操，给人知识和智慧。所以，我们应该多读书，为我们以后的人生道路打下好的、扎实的基础！读书养性，读书可以陶冶自己的性情，使自己温文尔雅，具有书卷气；读书破万卷，下笔如有神，多读书可以提高写作能力，写文章就才思敏捷；旧书不厌百回读，熟读深思子自知，读书可以提高理解能力，只要熟读深思，你就可以知道其中的道理了；读书可以使自己的知识得到积累，君子学以聚之。总之，爱好读书是好事。让我们都来读书吧。 其实读书有很多好处,就等有心人去慢慢发现. 最大的好处是可以让你有属于自己的本领靠自己生存。 让你的生活过得更充实，学习到不同的东西。感受世界的不同。 不需要有生存的压力，必竞都是有父母的负担。 虽然现在读书的压力很大，但请务必相信你是幸福的。 在我们国家还有很多孩子连最基本的教育都没办法享受的。 所以，你现在不需要总结，随着年龄的成长，你会明白的，还是有时间多学习一下。 古代的那些文人墨客,都有一个相同的爱好-------读书.书是人类进步的阶梯.读书是每个人都做过的事情,有许多人爱书如宝,手不释卷,因为一本好书可以影响一个人的一生.那么,读书有哪些好处呢?1读书可以丰富我们的知识量.多读一些好书,能让我们了解许多科学知识.2读书可以让我们拥有"千里眼".俗话说的好"秀才不出门,便知天下事.""运筹帷幄,决胜千里."多读一些书,能通古今,通四方,很多事都可以未卜先知.3读书可以让我们励志.读一些有关历史的书籍,可以激起我们的爱国热情.4读书能提高我们的写作水平.读一些有关写作方面的书籍,能使我们改正作文中的一些不足,从而提高了我们的习作水平.读书的好处还有一点,就是为我们以后的生活做准备说了那么多，想说下京东商城给我的印象，价格还是可以的，而且都是正版的书，确实是我们这样爱书的人的天堂啊，呵呵！

评分☆☆☆☆☆

27824245252782782727272