tailieunhanh - LUYỆN ĐỌC TIẾNG ANH QUA TÁC PHẨM VĂN HỌC-SHORT STORY BY O’HENRY- Blind Man's Holiday-

SHORT STORY BY O’HENRY Blind Man's Holiday Đây là một serries truyện ngắn anh ngữ nổi tiếng với những từ vựng quen thuộc. Nhằm giúp các em và các bạn yêu thich tiếng anh luyện tập và củng cố thêm kỹ năng đọc tiếng anh | SHORT STORY BY O HENRY Blind Man s Holiday Alas for the man and for the artist with the shifting point of perspective Life shall be a confusion of ways to the one the landscape shall rise up and confound the other. Take the case of Lorison. At one time he appeared to himself to be the feeblest of fools at another he conceived that he followed ideals so fine that the world was not yet ready to accept them. During one mood he cursed his folly possessed by the other he bore himself with a serene grandeur akin to greatness in neither did he attain the perspective. Generations before the name had been Larsen. His race had bequeathed him its fine-strung melancholy temperament its saving balance of thrift and industry. From his point of perspective he saw himself an outcast from society forever to be a shady skulker along the ragged edge of respectability a denizen des trois-quartz de monde that pathetic spheroid lying between the haut and the demi whose inhabitants envy each of their neigh- bours and are scorned by both. He was self-condemned to this opinion as he was selfexiled through it to this quaint Southern city a thousand miles from his former home. Here he had dwelt for longer than a year know- ing but few keeping in a subjective world of shadows which was invaded at times by the perplexing bulks of jarring realities. Then he fell in love with a girl whom he met in a cheap restaurant and his story begins. The Rue Chartres in New Orleans is a street of ghosts. It lies in the quarter where the Frenchman in his prime set up his translated pride and glory where also the arrogant don had swaggered and dreamed of gold and grants and ladies gloves. Every flagstone has its grooves worn by footsteps going royally to the wooing and the fighting. Every house has a princely heartbreak each doorway its untold tale of gallant promise and slow decay. By night the Rue Chartres is now but a murky fissure from which the groping wayfarer sees flung against the sky the tangled .