最后一片叶子经典语句英文摘抄
最后一片叶子英文观后感
最后一片叶子英文观后感The Last Leaf is a poignant and touching story that explores themes of friendship, sacrifice, and the power of hope. The relationship between Johnsy and Sue is especially heartwarming, as Sue's unwavering faith in Johnsy's ability to recover from illness is both touching and inspiring.The character of Mr. Behrman, with his gruff exterior and underlying kindness, adds depth to the story. His ultimate sacrifice to paint the last leaf on the wall in order to give Johnsy hope is a powerful moment that showcases the lengths to which true friendship will go.The symbolism of the last leaf, representing not onlylife and hope but also the power of belief and determination, is thought-provoking. It serves as a reminder that even in the face of despair, a single act of kindness or a sliver of hope can make a profound difference.The twist at the end of the story, revealing that the last leaf was actually real and not painted, is both surprising and heartwarming. It reinforces the idea that sometimes miracles do happen, and that faith and hope can work wonders.Overall, The Last Leaf is a beautifully crafted story that resonates with readers long after the final page is turned. It is a powerful reminder of the importance of friendship, sacrifice, and the enduring power of hope in the face of adversity.。
【英文原版小说】欧·亨利短篇小说-TheLastLeaf最后一片叶子
The Last Leaf最后一片叶子IIn a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'h?te of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well.Has she anything on her mind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward."Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away.An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy.There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.""Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.""Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down.""Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly."I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.""Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe.He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.""She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet.""You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.Wearily Sue obeyed.But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground."It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to itsstem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves. When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.The ivy leaf was still there.Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove."I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."And hour later she said:"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left. "Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that's all."And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道都横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。
欧亨利最后一片叶子优美句子
欧亨利最后一片叶子优美句子
欧·亨利的《最后一片叶子》是一篇感人至深的小说，其中有许多优美的句子。
以下是一些我认为特别出色的句子：
1."当最后一片叶子落下来的时候，我也要去了。
三天前我就知道了。
难道大夫没有告诉你吗？"
2."又掉了一片。
不，我不要喝汤。
只剩下四片了。
我希望在天黑之
前看到最后的藤叶飘落下来。
那时候我也该走了。
"
3."叶子。
常春藤上的叶子。
等最后一片掉下来，我也得去了。
三天
前我就知道了。
难道大夫没有告诉你吗？"
4."医生今天早晨到楼上来看过我。
他说我活不到今年年底了，除非
我能得到奇迹的帮助。
他要我把心上想要的东西尽量都说出来，这样他就可以尽量想办法满足。
"
5."最后一片藤叶掉下来，我也要去了。
难道大夫没有告诉你吗？"。
《最后一片叶子》续写英语作文
《最后一片叶子》续写英语作文The Last LeafAs the autumn wind swept through the city, its chill caressed the delicate leaves that clung to the bare branches. One by one, they surrendered to the inevitable, drifting down to the pavement below. Yet, amidst the sea of fallen foliage, a single leaf remained steadfast, its vibrant hue a defiant contrast to the graying landscape.In a small apartment, Johnathan sat by the window, his eyes fixed on that solitary leaf. He had always found solace in the changing of the seasons, the cycle of growth and decay a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. But this year, as he watched the world around him wither, he felt a profound sense of melancholy.Johnathan's thoughts drifted back to the previous autumn, when he had first noticed the resilient leaf. It had been a difficult time for him, a year marked by loss and uncertainty. He had lost his job, his savings dwindling, and the weight of his responsibilities had threatened to consume him. Yet, that leaf had remained, a silent witness to his struggles, a symbol of hope in the face of adversity.As the days grew shorter and the chill in the air intensified, Johnathan found himself drawn to the window, captivated by the leaf's stubborn refusal to succumb. He would sit for hours, watching the wind tug at its delicate edges, yet it refused to let go. It was as if the leaf had become a talisman, a tangible representation of his own determination to persevere.One particularly blustery afternoon, Johnathan watched as the leaf finally broke free, swirling and dancing on the currents of the wind. He held his breath, his heart racing, as he followed its graceful descent. But instead of landing on the ground, the leaf seemed to hover, suspended in the air, as if guided by an unseen force.Johnathan blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, for the leaf had not fallen to the earth but had instead alighted on the windowsill, directly in front of him. He reached out, his fingers trembling, and gently touched the leaf's velvety surface. In that moment, a sense of profound clarity washed over him, and he knew that this was no mere coincidence.With renewed purpose, Johnathan set out to reclaim his life. He scoured the city for job opportunities, his determination fueling his every step. And just as the leaf had defied the odds, so too did Johnathan. He landed a position at a local nonprofit, a job that not only provided financial stability but also a sense of meaning andpurpose.As the seasons changed and the years passed, Johnathan never forgot the lesson of the last leaf. Whenever he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, he would return to that window, seeking solace in the memory of that resilient, defiant leaf. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always a glimmer of hope, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human soul.And so, Johnathan continued to face each challenge with the same unwavering resolve, drawing strength from the memory of that leaf, and the knowledge that even the most daunting obstacles could be overcome. For in the end, it was not the leaf that had taught him the true meaning of resilience, but the realization that the power to persevere lay within him all along.。
《最后一片叶子》英文版读后感范文
《最后一片叶子》英文版读后感范文The Last Leaf, written by O. Henry, is a heart-warming short story that can easily move anyone who reads it. It was first published in 1907, and its popularity has not declined since then. The story has been adapted into many different formats, including film, stage plays, and even operas.At first glance, the plot seems simple. Two struggling artists, Johnsy and Sue, live together in a small apartment in Greenwich Village. They are both trying to make a go at their respective art forms, but the harsh realities of life are catching up with them. Johnsy falls ill with pneumonia and becomes convinced that she will die when the last leaf on the vine outside her window falls off. Sue, her best friend, tries to convince her otherwise but finds it difficult to do so. The story concludes with an unexpected and beautiful twist.As a reader, I was pleasantly surprised by the way the author conveyed the emotions of the characters and their circumstances. O. Henry masterfully twists the plot in such an original and unexpected way that I was left feeling both satisfied and inspired.The Last Leaf is a story that highlights the power of hope and friendship in dark times. It underscores how much of a differencea true friend can make when one is struggling through difficult times. The story also highlights the importance of perseverance and never giving in to despair, no matter how dire the situation may seem. It is a tribute to the human spirit and its ability to overcome obstacles and face challenges with grace and dignity.As readers, we are often exposed to stories that are predictable and formulaic. The Last Leaf stands out because it takes a common trope and subverts it, providing us with an original story that is both engaging and inspiring. The story shows that there are many ways to tell a story and that creativity and originality can take even the most mundane plot and turn it into something truly magnificent.In conclusion, The Last Leaf is a timeless classic that has withstood the test of time. It is a story of hope, perseverance, and the power of friendship. It reminds us that we all have the potential to rise above our circumstances and become the best version of ourselves. The story is a must-read for anyone looking to be inspired and moved by a beautifully crafted tale.。
高二英语作文最后一片叶子读后续写
高二英语作文最后一片叶子读后续写The Last Leaf is a heartwarming story written by O. Henry that revolves around the themes of hope, sacrifice, and friendship. The story tells the tale of two young artists, Johnsy and Sue, who live together in an apartment in Greenwich Village. Johnsy falls ill with pneumonia, and with each passing day, she believes that one of the last few remaining leaves on a vine outside her window is the countdown to her impending death.However, the twist in the story comes from the actions of their neighbor, Mr. Behrman. He braves the freezing cold to paint a leaf on the wall in order to give Johnsy hope and save her life. Sadly, Mr. Behrman succumbs to pneumonia himself and passes away, but his sacrifice ultimately saves Johnsy.The Last Leaf is a poignant reminder of the power of love, sacrifice, and hope in the face of adversity. It serves as a testament to the lengths people will go to in order to help those they care about. It teaches us that even in the darkest of times, there is always a glimmer of hope that can lead to miracles.In today's world, where we are often consumed by our own problems and struggles, The Last Leaf reminds us of the importance of selflessness and compassion towards others. Itprompts us to think about the impact our actions can have on those around us and how a simple act of kindness can make a world of difference.As we reflect on the themes of The Last Leaf, let us remember to be there for one another, to support each other in times of need, and to always hold on to hope – for it is the last leaf that never falls.。
最后一片叶子英语续写100字
最后一片叶子的力量In a small town, there lived an old artist named Eugene. He was known for his paintings of the town's beautiful autumn landscapes, especially his renderings of the trees' leaves changing colors. Eugene's paintings captured the essence of each season, but it was his autumn paintingsthat were the most popular.One year, as the cold winds of winter began to blow, Eugene found himself stricken with a rare illness. He became weak and bedridden, unable to paint or even leavehis room. The doctor said that Eugene's condition was critical, and he might not survive the winter.As the days passed, Eugene's health deteriorated. Helay in his bed, staring at the window, watching the leavesof the tree outside slowly turn brown and fall. Eachfalling leaf reminded him of his own fading life. Eugenefelt hopeless and alone.One day, a young girl named Alice visited Eugene. She was a neighbor and a great admirer of his work. Alice noticed the sadness in Eugene's eyes and asked him what waswrong. Eugene told her about his illness and his fear of dying.Alice was determined to cheer Eugene up. She brought him a stack of bright, colorful books and told him stories about her daily adventures. She even brought him a paintbrush and canvas, hoping he could find the inspiration to paint again.But Eugene refused. He said he had nothing left to paint. The tree outside his window had lost all its leaves, and he felt like his life was slipping away like those leaves.Alice looked out the window and saw only one leaf still clinging to the branch. She turned back to Eugene and said, "Look, Eugene. There's still one leaf left on the tree.It's holding on, just like you. You're a fighter, and I know you can fight this illness."Eugene looked at the leaf and saw its tenacity. He realized that he, too, had to hold on. He had to fight for his life, just like that leaf was fighting to stay on the tree.With newfound determination, Eugene began to paint again. He painted the tree outside his window, focusing on that last leaf. His painting captured the beauty and strength of the leaf, symbolizing his own fight against the illness.Days passed, and Eugene's paintings began to attract attention. People were moved by the story of the last leaf and Eugene's battle against illness. They sent him messages of encouragement and prayers for his recovery.Alice visited Eugene every day, bringing him updates on the town and news of his growing popularity. She even brought him a small bouquet of flowers, which he placed next to his painting of the last leaf.As the winter drew to a close, Eugene's health began to improve. The doctors were amazed at his progress and attributed it to his strong will and the support he received from his friends and community.Finally, on a warm spring day, Eugene walked out of his house for the first time in months. He walked slowly but steadily towards the tree outside his window. When hereached it, he saw that the last leaf had finally fallen,but in its place, new buds were beginning to bloom.Eugene smiled. He knew that just like the tree, he had survived the winter and was ready to embrace the new life that spring brought. He looked at his painting of the last leaf and felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. It had been his saving grace, his reminder to never give up.Eugene's story spread throughout the town, and people were inspired by his resilience and fight against illness. His paintings became even more popular, and he was able to make a living from his art again.In the end, it was the last leaf that gave Eugene the strength to fight and survive. It reminded him that life, like nature, has its cycles and that even in the coldest, darkest times, there is always hope and a reason to hold on. **最后一片叶子的力量**在一个小镇上，住着一位名叫尤金的老艺术家。
英语续写最后一片叶子作文
英语续写最后一片叶子作文The Last Leaf's LegacyAs the last leaf hung precariously on the barren branch, it seemed to hold onto life with all its might. The cold winter winds howled, taunting the fragile hold of the leaf, but it refused to give in. Its neighbors had already succumbed to the merciless embrace of autumn, falling silently to the ground, their green hues replaced by brown and decay.In the apartment below, Sue, an artist in search of inspiration, watched the lonely leaf with a mix of curiosity and awe. She had lost her husband to the brutal winter of the previous year, and since then, her world had been painted in shades of gray. The leaf's tenacity reminded her of her own struggle to find meaning and purpose in her life again.Day after day, Sue watched the leaf, sketching its form and capturing its spirit. She found a newfound peace in the repetition of her routine, and her heart began to heal. But as the winter deepened, the leaf's hold on the branch grew weaker. Sue knew that the inevitable end was near.One cold morning, Sue awoke to find the leaf gone. Her heart sank, and she felt a sense of loss that was familiar andyet new. She went to her window, expecting to see only bare branches against the winter sky. But then, she noticed a soft green peeking through the snow.It was a new leaf, small and fragile, but it had emerged from the dead branch where the last leaf had fallen. Sue smiled through her tears, understanding that the legacy of the last leaf was not just its tenacity but its ability to inspire and give life.She picked up her sketchbook and began to draw, capturing the beauty of the new leaf and the hope it brought. That day, Sue realized that just as the leaf had found new life, she too could move forward, carrying the memory of her loved one and finding joy in the simple pleasures of life.And so, the legacy of the last leaf lived on, not just in the new growth that sprung from its demise but also in the transformed heart of a woman who found strength and courage in its story.。
最后一片叶子英文原文之欧阳体创编
In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching onehere and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy,she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward."Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.""Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your gettingwell? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.""You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.""Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down.""Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly."I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want toturn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.""Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive thefirst line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.""She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet.""You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivyvine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking.A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.Wearily Sue obeyed.But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground."It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.The ivy leaf was still there.Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove."I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."And hour later she said:"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left."Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that's all."And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall.Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."基本简介：真实姓名：威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)笔名：欧·亨利(O.Henry)生卒年代：1862.9.11-1910.6.5美国著名批判现实主义作家，世界三大短篇小说大师之一。
欧亨利最后一片叶子优美句子
欧亨利最后一片叶子优美句子
以欧亨利最后一片叶子为题，以下是符合要求的10个优美句子：1. 寒意透骨，秋风中飘落的最后一片叶子，静静地舞动着，如同一个窈窕的舞者在寂寞的舞台上独舞。
2. 那片残缺的叶子仿佛是秋天的告别，它犹如一位孤独的诗人，倾诉着生命的凋零与无奈。
3. 渐渐褪去的绿意中，最后一片叶子宛如一颗倔强的心脏，坚守在枝头，为旧时的美好留下缅怀。
4. 在秋日的余晖下，最后一片叶子温柔地摇曳，像是对生命的颂歌，也是对离别的深情告白。
5. 在无尽的风雨中，最后一片叶子坚强地挣扎着，仿佛在诉说着生命的坚韧与不屈。
6. 枝头的最后一片叶子如一只倔强的蝴蝶，舞动着它短暂的生命，为大地增添了一抹忧伤的美丽。
7. 那片孤独的叶子，仿佛是秋天的残留，它默默地坚守在树枝上，为寒冷的冬天带来一丝温暖。
8. 最后一片叶子无声地飘落，如同一首朦胧的诗，倾诉着离别的哀伤和对过去的眷恋。
9. 枯黄的叶片在秋风中翩翩起舞，最后一片叶子如一位忧郁的舞者，舞动着自己的孤独与坚强。
10. 在寒冷的冬日里，最后一片叶子坚守在树枝上，为春天的到来守望着，它是希望的象征和生命的坚持。
这些句子使用了丰富的形容词和比喻手法，通过描绘最后一片叶子的形象和情感，展现了生命的坚韧、孤独和对过去的眷恋。
同时，句子结构合理，段落明晰，符合要求的各项要求。
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最后一片叶子经典语句英文摘抄
'The last leaf falls, but it leaves behind a legacy of resilience and hope.'
In life, we often find ourselves standing at the edge of change, witnessing the last remnants of what once was. The last leaf holds a profound symbolism, representing the end of a cycle, the passing of time, and the inevitability of change. But even in its final moments, the last leaf speaks volumes, leaving us with timeless wisdom and inspiration. The classic story, 'The Last Leaf' by O. Henry, beautifully captures the essence of this profound message. Set in a small town, the story revolves around two young artists, Johnsy and Sue, and their elderly neighbor, Mr. Behrman. Johnsy falls ill with pneumonia and loses hope for her recovery, believing that when the last leaf falls from the vine outside her window, she will also die. As the autumn winds blow away all but a single leaf, Mr. Behrman, disregarding his own health, paints a masterpiece of a leaf on the wall to give Johnsy hope. Inspired by his selflessness, Johnsy finds the strength to fight her illness and ultimately recovers.
Within this tale, we find a collection of classic lines that resonate with readers, reminding us of the power of perseverance and the beauty of human connection. One such line is, 'The last leaf clings tenaciously, defying the forces of nature.' This quote encapsulates the unwavering
determination and resilience of the last leaf, symbolizing our own capacity to hold on and endure even amidst the harshest of circumstances. Another memorable line expresses the transformative power of art and its ability to inspire hope. It states, 'Art has the power to breathe life into the dying and inspire the hopeless.' Through Mr. Behrman's selfless act of painting the leaf, he not only brings hope to Johnsy but also reminds us of the profound impact that art can have on the human spirit. It is a poignant reminder that creativity can bring solace and healing in the darkest of times.
Lastly, the story's concluding line, 'The last leaf falls, but its legacy of hope remains forever,' encapsulates the lasting impact that a single act of kindness and determination can have. Although the last leaf eventually falls, its legacy lives on, reminding us that even in the face of adversity and change, hope can endure and inspire future generations. In conclusion, the classic story of 'The Last Leaf' offers timeless wisdom and inspiration through its memorable lines. It teaches us about the strength of the human spirit, the transformative power of art, and the enduring legacy of hope. Just like the last leaf, we too have the capacity to cling tenaciously, to bring hope to others through our actions, and to leave a lasting impact on the world.。