介绍:
文字版
1.电影选段
You know, as we come to the end of this phase of our life, we find ourselves trying to remember the good times and trying to forget the bad times. And we find ourselves thinking about the future. We start to worry, thinking, "What am I gonna do? Where am I gonna be in ten years?"
But I say to you, "Hey, look at me." Please, don't worry so much, 'cause in the end none of us have very long on this earth. Life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky, when the stars are strung across the velvety night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day -- make a wish, think of me. And make your life spectacular.
2.The Great Gatsby
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
3.The BFG
‘Ah-ha!’ cried the BFG, sitting up suddenly in his chair. ‘Now we is getting nosier than a parker!’
‘And the suitcase you were carrying,’ Sophie said. ‘What on earth was that all about?’
The BFG stared suspiciously at the small girl sitting cross-legged on the table.
‘You is asking me to tell you whoppsy big secrets,’ he said. ‘Secrets that nobody is ever hearing before.’
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ Sophie said. ‘I swear it. How could I anyway? I am stuck here for the rest of my life.’
‘You could be telling the other giants.’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘You told me they would eat me up the moment they saw me.’
‘And so they would,’ said the BFG. ‘You is a human bean and human beans is like strawbunkles and cream to those giants.’
‘If they are going to eat me the moment they see me, then I wouldn’t have time to tell them anything, would I?’ Sophie said.
‘You wouldn’t,’ said the BFG.
‘Then why did you say I might?’
‘Because I is brimful of buzzburgers,’ the BFG said. ‘If you listen to everything I am saying you will be getting
earache.’
‘Please tell me what you were doing in our village,’ Sophie said. ‘I promise you can trust me.’
‘Would you teach me how to make an elefunt?’ the BFG asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Sophie said.
‘I would dearly love to have an elefunt to ride on,’ the BFG said dreamily. ‘I would so much love to have a jumbly big elefunt and go riding through green forests picking peachy fruits off the trees all day long. This is a sizzling-hot muckfrumping country we is living in. Nothing grows in it except snozzcumbers. I would love to go somewhere else and pick peachy fruits in the early morning from the back of an elefunt.’
Sophie was quite moved by this curious statement.
‘Perhaps one day we will get you an elephant,’ she said. ‘And peachy fruits as well. Now tell me what you were doing in our village.’
‘If you is really wanting to know what I am doing in your village,’ the BFG said, ‘I is blowing a dream into the bedroom of those children.’
‘Blowing a dream?’ Sophie said. ‘Whatdo you mean?’
‘I is a dream-blowing giant,’ the BFG said. ‘When all the other giants is galloping off every what way and which to swollop human beans, I is scuddling away to other places to blow dreams into the bedrooms of sleeping children. Nice dreams. Lovely golden dreams. Dreams that is giving
the dreamers a happy time.’
The BFG expressed a wish to learn how to speak properly, and Sophie herself, who loved him as she would a father, volunteered to give him lessons every day. She even taught him how to spell and to write sentences, and he turned out to be a splendid intelligent pupil. In his spare time, he read books. He became a tremendous reader. He read all of Charles Dickens (whom he no longer called Dahl’s Chickens), and all of Shakespeare and literally thousands of other books. He also started to write essays about his own past life. When Sophie read some of them, she said, ‘These are very good. I think perhaps one day you could become a real writer.’
‘Oh, I would love that!’ cried the BFG. ‘Do you think I could?’
‘I know you could,’ Sophie said. ‘Why don’t you start by writing a book about you and me?’
‘Very well,’ the BFG said. ‘I’ll give it a try.’
So he did. He worked hard on it and in the end he completed it. Rather shyly, he showed it to the Queen. The Queen read it aloud to her grandchildren. Then the Queen said, ‘I think we ought to get this book printed properly and published so that other children can read it.’ This was arranged, but because the BFG was a very modest giant he wouldn’t put his own name on it. He used somebody else’s name instead.
But where, you might ask, is this book that the BFG wrote?
It’s right here. You’ve just finished reading it.
