求几棵新概念第四册课文我只要第四册的5,6,11,14,16,22,23,24,33,34,38,44,46课请哪位粘贴一下 谢谢

求几棵新概念第四册课文我只要第四册的5,6,11,14,16,22,23,24,33,34,38,44,46课请哪位粘贴一下 谢谢
求几棵新概念第四册课文
我只要第四册的
5,6,11,14,16,22,23,24,33,34,38,44,46课
请哪位粘贴一下 谢谢

求几棵新概念第四册课文我只要第四册的5,6,11,14,16,22,23,24,33,34,38,44,46课请哪位粘贴一下 谢谢
第5棵：
People are always talking about 'the problem of youth'.
If there is one -- which I take leave to doubt -- then it is older people who create it, not the young themselves.
Let us get down to fundamentals and agree that the young are after all human beings -- people just like their elders.
There is only one difference between an old man and a young one:
the young man has a glorious future before him and the old one has a splendid future behind him:
and maybe that is where the rub is.
When I was a teenager, I felt that I was just young and uncertain -- that I was a new boy in a huge school,
and I would have been very pleased to be regarded as something so interesting as a problem.
For one thing, being a problem gives you a certain identity, and that is one of the things the young are busily engaged in seeking.
I find young people exciting.
They have an air of freedom, and they not a dreary commitment to mean ambitions or love of comfort.
They are not anxious social climbers, and they have no devotion to material things.
All this seems to me to link them with life, and the origins of things.
It's as if they were, in some sense, cosmic beings in violent and lovely contrast with us suburban creatures.
All that is in my mind when I meet a young person.
He may be conceited, ill-mannered, presumptuous or fatuous,
but I do not turn for protection to dreary cliches about respect of elders
as if mere age were a reason for respect.
I accept that we are equals, and I will argue with him, as an equal, if I think he is wrong.
第6课：
I am always amazed when I hear people saying that sport creates goodwill between the nations,
and that if only the common peoples of the would could meet one another at football or cricket,
they would have no inclination to meet on the hattlefield.
Even if one didn't know from concrete examples
(the 1936 Olympic Games, for instance)
that international sporting contests lead to orgies of hatred, one could deduce it from general principles.
Nearly all the sports practised nowadays are competitive.
You play to win, and the game has little meaning unless you do your utmost to win.
On the village green, where you pick up sides and no feeling of local patriotism is involved,
it is possible to play simply for the fun and exercise:
but as soon as the question of prestige arises,
as soon as you feel that you and some larger unit will be disgraced if you lose,
the most savage combative instincts are aroused.
Anyone who has played even in a school football match knows this.
At the international level, sport is frankly mimic warfare.
But the significant thing is not the behaviour of the players but the attitude of the spectators:
and, behind the spectators, of the nations who work themselves into furies over these absurd contests,
and seriously believe -- at any rate for short periods -- that running, jumping and kicking a ball are tests of national virtue.
第11课：
Some old people are oppressed by the fear of death.
In the young there is a justification for this feeling.
Young men who have reason to fear that they will be killed in battle may justifiably feel bitter in the thought that they have cheated of the best things that life has to offer.
But in an old man who has known human joys and sorrows, and has achieved whatever work it was in him to do,
the fear of death is somewhat abject and ignoble.
The best way to overcome it -- so at least it seems to me -- is to make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal,
until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life.
An individual human existence should be like a river -- small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls.
Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being.
The man who, in old age, can see his life in this way, will not suffer from the fear of death, since the things he cares for will continue.
And if, with the decay of vitality, weariness increases, the thought of rest will be not unwelcome.
I should wish to die while still at work, knowing that others will carry on what I can no longer do, and content in the thought that what was possible has been done.
第11课：
Some old people are oppressed by the fear of death.
In the young there is a justification for this feeling.
Young men who have reason to fear that they will be killed in battle may justifiably feel bitter in the thought that they have cheated of the best things that life has to offer.
But in an old man who has known human joys and sorrows, and has achieved whatever work it was in him to do,
the fear of death is somewhat abject and ignoble.
The best way to overcome it -- so at least it seems to me -- is to make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal,
until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life.
An individual human existence should be like a river -- small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls.
Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being.
The man who, in old age, can see his life in this way, will not suffer from the fear of death, since the things he cares for will continue.
And if, with the decay of vitality, weariness increases, the thought of rest will be not unwelcome.
I should wish to die while still at work, knowing that others will carry on what I can no longer do, and content in the thought that what was possible has been done.
第14课：
Beyond two or three days, the world's best weather forecasts are speculative, and beyond six or seven they are worthless.
The Butterfly Effect is the reason.
For small pieces of weather -- and to a global forecaster, small can mean thunderstorms and blizzards -- any prediction deteriorates rapidly.
Errors and uncertainties multiply, cascading upward through a chain of turbulent features, from dust devils and squalls up to continent-size eddies that only satellites can see.
The modern weather models work with a grid of points of the order of sixty miles apart,
and even so, some starting data has to guessed, since ground stations and satellites cannot see everywhere.
But suppose the earth could be covered with sensors spaced one foot apart, rising at one-foot intervals all the way to the top of the atmosphere.
Suppose every sensor gives perfectly accurate readings of temperature, pressure, humidity, and any other quantity a meteorologist would want.
Precisely at noon an infinitely powerful computer takes all the data and calculates what will happen at each point at 12.01, then 1202, then 12.03...
The computer will still be unable to predict whether Princeton, New Jersey, will have sun or rain on a day one month away.
At noon the spaces between the sensors will hide fluctuations that the computer will not know about, tiny deviations from the average.
By 12.01, those fluctuations will already have created small errors one foot away.
Soon the errors will have multiplied to the ten-foot scale, and so on up to the size of the globe.
第16课：
Beyond two or three days, the world's best weather forecasts are speculative, and beyond six or seven they are worthless.
The Butterfly Effect is the reason.
For small pieces of weather -- and to a global forecaster, small can mean thunderstorms and blizzards -- any prediction deteriorates rapidly.
Errors and uncertainties multiply, cascading upward through a chain of turbulent features, from dust devils and squalls up to continent-size eddies that only satellites can see.
The modern weather models work with a grid of points of the order of sixty miles apart,
and even so, some starting data has to guessed, since ground stations and satellites cannot see everywhere.
But suppose the earth could be covered with sensors spaced one foot apart, rising at one-foot intervals all the way to the top of the atmosphere.
Suppose every sensor gives perfectly accurate readings of temperature, pressure, humidity, and any other quantity a meteorologist would want.
Precisely at noon an infinitely powerful computer takes all the data and calculates what will happen at each point at 12.01, then 1202, then 12.03...
The computer will still be unable to predict whether Princeton, New Jersey, will have sun or rain on a day one month away.
At noon the spaces between the sensors will hide fluctuations that the computer will not know about, tiny deviations from the average.
By 12.01, those fluctuations will already have created small errors one foot away.
Soon the errors will have multiplied to the ten-foot scale, and so on up to the size of the globe.
第22课：
Why does the idea of progress loom so large in the modern world?
Surely progress of a particular kind is actually taking place around us and is becoming more and more manifest.
Although mankind has undergone no general improvement in intelligence or morality,
it has made extraordinary progress in the accumulation of knowledge.
Knowledge began to increase as soon as the thoughts of one individual could be communicated to another by means of speech.
With the invention of writing, a great advance was made, for knowledge could then be not only communicated but also stored.
Libraries made education possible, and education in its turn added to libraries:
the growth of knowledge followed a kind of compound interest law,
which was greatly enhanced by the invention of printing.
All this was comparatively slow until, with the coming of science, the tempo was suddenly raised.
Then knowledge began to be accumulated according to a systematic plan.
The trickle became a stream; the stream has now become a torrent.
Moreover, as soon as new knowledge is acquired, it is now turned to practical account.
What is called 'modern civilization' is not the result of a balanced development of all man's nature.
but of accumulated knowledge applied to practical life.
The problem now facing humanity is: What is going to be done with all this knowledge?
As is so often pointed out, knowledge is a two-edged weapon which can be used equally for good or evil.
It is now being used indifferently for both.
Could any spectacle, for instance, be more grimly whimsical than that of gunners ourselves very seriously what will happen if this twofold use of knowledge, with its ever-increasing power, continues.
第23课：
No two sorts of birds practise quite the same sort of flight;
the varieties are infinite; but two classes may be roughly seen.
Any shi that crosses the Pacific is accompanied for many days by the smaller albatross,
Which may keep company with the vessel for an hour without visible or more than occasional movement of wing.
The currents of air that the walls of the ship direct upwards, as well as in the line of its course, are enough to give the great bird with its immense wings sufficient sustenance and progress.
The albatross is the king of the gliders,
the class of fliers which harness the air to their purpose, but must yield to its opposition.
In the contrary school, the duck is supreme.
It comes nearer to the engines with which man has 'conquered' the air, as he boasts.
Duck, and like them the pigeons, are endowed with such-like muscles,
that are a good part of the weight of the bird,
and these will ply the short wings with such irresistible power that they can bore for long distances through an opposing gale before exhaustion follows.
Their humbler followers, such as partridges, have a like power of strong propulsion, but soon tire.
You may pick them up in utter exhaustion, if wind over the sea has driven them to a long journey.
The swallow shares the virtues of both schools in highest measure.
It tires not, nor does it boast of its power;
but belongs to the air, travelling it may be six thousand miles to and from its northern nesting home, feeding its flown young as it flies,
and slipping through we no longer take omens from their flight on this side and that;
and even the most superstitious villagers no longer take off their hats to the magpie and wish it good-morning.
第24课：
A young man sees a sunset and, unable to understand or to express the emotion that it rouses in him, concludes that it must be the gateway to world that lies beyond.
It is difficult for any of us in moments of intense aesthetic experience to resist the suggestion that we are catching a glimpse of a light that shines down to us from a different realm of existence,
different and, because the experience is intensely moving, in some way higher.
And, though the gleams blind and dazzle, yet do they convey a hint of beauty and serenity greater than we have known or imagined.
Greater too than we can describe;
for language, which was invented to convey the meanings of this world, cannot readily be fitted to the uses of another.
That all great has this power of suggesting a world beyond is undeniable.
In some moods, Nature shares it.
There is no sky in June so blue that it does not point forward to a bluer,
no sunset so beautiful that it does not waken the vision of a greater beauty, a vision which passes before it is fully glimpsed, and in passing leaves and indefinable longing and regret.
But, if this world is not merely a bad joke, life a vulgar flare amid the cool radiance of the stars,
and existence an empty laugh braying across the mysteries;
if these intimations of a something behind and beyond are not evil humour born of indigestion, or whimsies sent by the devil to mock and madden us.
if, in a word, beauty means something, yet we must not seek to interpret the meaning.
If we glimpse the unutterable, it is unwise to try to utter it,
nor should we seek to invest with significance that which we cannot grasp.
Beauty in terms of our human meanings is meaningless.
第33课：
Education is one of the key words of our time.
A man without an education, many of us believe, is an unfortunate victim of adverse circumstances, deprived of one of the greatest twentieth-century opportunities.
Convinced of the importance of education, modern states 'invest' in institutions of learning to get back 'interest' in the form of a large group of enlightened young men and women who are potential leaders.
Education, with its cycles of instruction so carefully worked out, punctuated by textbooks -- those purchasable wells of wisdom-what would civilization be like without its benefits?
So much is certain: that we would have doctors and preachers, lawyers and defendants, marriages and births -- but our spiritual outlook would be different.
We would lay less stress on 'facts and figures' and more on a good memory, on applied psychology, and on the capacity of a man to get along with his fellow-citizens.
If our educational system were fashioned after its bookless past we would have the most democratic form of 'college' imaginable.
Among tribal people all knowledge inherited by tradition is shared by all;
it is taught to every member of the tribe so that in this respect everybody is equally equipped for life.
It is the ideal condition of the 'equal start' which only our most progressive forms of modern education try to regain.
In primitive cultures the obligation to seek and to receive the traditional instruction is binding to all.
There are no 'illiterates' -- if the term can be applied to peoples without a script
while our own compulsory school attendance became law in Germany in 1642, in France in 1806, and in England in 1876,and is still non-existent in a number of 'civilized' nations.
This shows how long it was before we deemed it necessary to make sure that all our children could share in the knowledge accumulated by the 'happy few' during the past centuries.
Education in the wilderness is not a matter of monetary means.
All are entitled to an equal start.
There is none of the hurry which, in our society, often hampers the full development of a growing personality.
There, a child grows up under the ever-present attention of his parent;
therefore the jungles and the savannahs know of no 'juvenile delinquency'.
No necessity of making a living away from home results in neglect of children,
and no father is confronted with his inability to 'buy' an education for his child.
第34课：
Parents are often upset when their children praise the homes of their friends and regard it as a slur on their own cooking, or cleaning, or furniture, and often are foolish enough to let the adolescents see that they are annoyed.
They may even accuse them of disloyalty, or make some spiteful remark about the friends' parents.
Such loss of dignity and descent into childish behaviour on the part to their parents about the place or people they visit.
Before very long the parents will be complaining that the child is so secretive and never tells them anything,
but they seldom realize that they have brought this on themselves.
Disillusionment with the parents, however good and adequate they may be both as parents and as individuals, is to some degree inevitable.
Most children have such a high ideal of their parents, unless the parents themselves have been unsatisfactory, that it can hardly hope to stand up to a realistic evaluation.
Parents would be greatly surprised and deeply touched if they realized how much belief their children usually have in their character and infallibility, and how much this faith means to a child.
If parents were prepared for this adolescent reaction, and realized that it was a sign that the child was growing up and developing valuable powers of observation and independent judgment,
they would not be so hurt, and therefore would not drive the child into opposition by resenting and resisting it.
The adolescent, with his passion for sincerity, always respects a parent who admits that he is wrong, or ignorant, or even that he has been unfair or unjust.
What the child cannot forgive is the parent's refusal to admit these charges if the child knows them to be true.
Victorian parents believed that they kept their dignity by retreating behind an unreasoning authoritarian attitude;
in fact they did nothing of the kind, but children were then too cowed to let them know how they really felt.
Today we tend to go to the other extreme, but on the whole this i