Before the Statue of Liberty was completed and shipped to the United States for assembly(组装), a campaign was organized to raise funds to build the base on Bedloe's Island for the enormous statue. Donations were very slow in coming, and in the early 1880s it appeared that the statue may never actually be assembled in New York. There were even rumors that another city, perhaps Boston, may end up with the statue.

   One of the fundraisers was to be an art show. And the poet Emma Lazarus, who was respected in the artistic community in New York City, was asked to write a poem that could be auctioned(拍卖) to raise funds for the base.

   Emma Lazarus was a native New Yorker, the daughter of a wealthy Jewish family with roots going back several generations in New York City. Yet she had become very concerned about the suffering of Jewish refugees(难民) in Russia. Lazarus was involved with organizations offering assistance to Jewish refugees who had arrived in America and would need help getting a start in a new country. She was known to visit Ward's Island, where newly arrived Jewish refugees from Russia were housed.

   The writer Constance Cary Harrison asked Lazarus, who was 34 at the time, to write a poem to help raise money for the Statue of Liberty base fund. Lazarus, at first, was not interested in writing something on assignment.

   Harrison later recalled that she encouraged Lazarus to change her mind by saying, "Think of that goddess standing on her base down there in the bay, and holding her torch out to those Russian refugees of yours that you are so fond of visiting at Ward's Island."

   Lazarus reconsidered, and wrote the sonnet The New Colossus. Thus in the mind of Lazarus the statue was not symbolic of liberty flowing outward from America, as Bartholdi, the sculptor who crested the enormous statue, expected, but rather a symbol of America being a refuge where those oppressed could come to live in liberty.

I think people everywhere dream about having lots of money. I know I do. I would like to earn large amounts of money. You can win a large amount of money in the United States through lotteries(彩票). People pay money for tickets with numbers. If your combination of numbers is chosen, you will win a huge amount of money—often in the millions.

   A few years ago, my friend Al won the lottery. It changed his life. He was not “born with a silver spoon in his mouth”. Instead, my friend was always short of money. And the money he did earn was chicken feed.

   Sometimes Al even had to accept handouts(施舍物) from his friends. But do not get me wrong. My friend was always very careful with the money he spent. In fact, he was often a cheapskate. He did not like to spend money. The worst times were when he had no single penny left.

   One day, Al scraped together a few dollars for a lottery ticket. He thought he would never gain lots of money unexpectedly. But his combination of numbers was chosen and he won the lottery. Al was so excited. The first thing he did was buy a costly new car—one thing that he normally would not buy. Then he started spending money on unnecessary things. It was like he had “money to burn”．

   When we got together for a meal at a restaurant, Al paid every time. He would always tell me the money made him feel like a millionaire. But, Al spent too much money. Soon he was “down and out” again. He had spent his “bottom dollar”—his very last amount. He did not even save any of the money.

   I admit I do feel sorry for my friend. He had enough money to “live like a king”. Instead, he was back to “living on a shoestring”— a very low budget. Some might say he was wise about small things, but not about important things.

A

Five years after a deadly earthquake and tsunami hit Japan, recovery remains years away.

More than 16,000 people died in the disaster and more than 470,000 were displaced (移动) from their homes, says the Japanese Red Cross Society. Over 2,500 people are still missing and presumed (推测) dead. After pressure from survivors, the Japanese Coast Guard began underwater searches for the missing.

In Fukushima, more than 100,000 families still cannot return home, says the Red Cross Society. This is because of radioactive contamination (污染) from the damagedDaiichi Nuclear Power Plant.

In Japan, the disaster is known as＂ 3-1-1＂, marking the date five years ago.

It was really three disasters rolled into one.

＂It started with an earthquake devastating (毁灭；破坏) in itself, then the tsunami, and then the radiation from the nuclear plant,＂said Shioko Goto, a Japan expert at the Wilson Center in Washington, D.C. Goto said the disaster showed the world,＂Japanese resilience (快速恢复的能力) and Japanese unity.＂

But it also showed shortcomings. Among the most notable, the long time it took to stabilize the Fukushima DaiichiNuclearPower Plant after it was flooded from the tsunami, Goto said. That process took eight months. Another, Japan’s dependence on nuclear power, she said. The disaster forced Japan to close all of its nuclear power plants, leaving parts of the country without electricity.

Goto offered up one major difference from the last major Japanese disaster, the 1995 Kobe Earthquake. In 2011, social media was everywhere, she said. Social media offered up plenty of＂unfounded rumors and fear-mongering (制造恐慌),＂Goto said.

But it also kept pressure on Japanese authorities to do more. Chikara Yoshida lost his only son, a 43-year-old volunteer fireman, on March 11, 2011. He and his daughter posted a petition (请愿书) on Facebook to restart underwater searches. It drew over 28,000 signatures, according to the Associated Press.

The Japanese Coast Guard announced that it would resume searches this week.

There have also been complaints that reconstruction efforts in hard-hit northern Japanese communities have been too slow. This week, Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe said the government will respond.

B

     People have strange ideas about food. For example, tomato is a kind of very delicious vegetable. It is one of useful plants that can be prepared in many ways. It has rich nutrition(营养) and vitamin in it. But in the 18th century, Americans never ate tomatoes. They grew them in their gardens because tomato plants are so pretty. But they thought the vegetable was poisonous(有毒的). They called tomatoes “poison apples”.
    President Thomas Jefferson, however, knew that tomatoes were good to eat. He was a learned man. He had been to Paris, where he learned to love the taste of tomatoes. He grew many kinds of tomatoes in his garden. The President taught his cook a way for a cream of tomato soup. This beautiful pink soup was served at the President party. The guests thought the soup tasted really good. They never thought their president would serve his honored guests poison apples. Jefferson never spoke to his honored guests about the fact.

C

     Theodore Roosevelt was one of America’s most physically fit Presidents. “While in the White House I always tried to get a couple of hours’ exercise in the afternoons — sometimes tennis, more often riding, or else a cross-country walk,” he wrote. The President believed “the strenuous (精力充沛的) life”, as he called it, helped him to be a better person and a better President.

     The President’s love for the strenuous life began when he was a boy growing up in  New York City in the 1860s. He was a sickly child and often ill. “Nobody seemed to think I would live,” Roosevelt recalled. 

     Encouraged by his father, Roosevelt began lifting weights when he was 12 years old. The next year, Roosevelt’s mother took him to a gym for boxing (拳击) lessons. He described himself as “a painfully slow and awkward pupil.” But even though he had little ability, Roosevelt always showed a lot of interest in sports. He worked hard at exercising his body.

     Roosevelt stood 5 feet 8 inches tall and weighed 124 pounds as a freshman at Harvard College. A classmate described him as “a youth in the kindergarten stage of development.” Yet Roosevelt continued boxing, and in his junior year, he competed in Harvard’s annual boxing championship. He finished in second place. 

     Roosevelt entered politics after college. In 1901, 42-year-old Roosevelt became the youngest President ever. And just because he was a world leader, he saw no reason to give up strenuous or risky sports.

     The President invited young military officers to the White House to box and wrestle (摔跤). In one boxing match, Roosevelt’s opponent (对手) hit him in the left eye, causing an injury that eventually blinded that eye. He kept the injury secret for many years.

阅读下列短文，从每题所给的四个选项(A、B、C和D)中，选出最佳选项。

Leon McCarthy, 12, was born without fingers on his left hand. That didnˈt stop him from being able to do many tasks. But Leon could not grasp more than one object at a time. So Leonˈs father, Paul, created a Prosthesis(假肢), using a 3D printer. Now Leon has fingers that open and close. “It was a do－it－yourself, father－and－son adventure，” says Paul.

When Leon was a baby, his doctor advised his parents not to give him a prosthetic hand until he was in his early teens. “The doctor said Leon should first learn to get full use out of the hand he was born with，” says Paul. As Leon got older, his father looked into buying a prosthetic hand, which can cost as much as $30，000. Paul found a more affordable solution.

One day, Paul discovered a video on the Internet about Robohand, a prosthesis created with a 3D printer. He downloaded the free instructions and called Robohandˈs creators for advice. They told him all he needed was a 3D printer—which costs around $2，000—and some materials.

Luckily, Leonˈs school had recently purchased a 3D printer and it offered to help Paul build the hand for Leon. “We used a soccer shinguard(护胫), cardboard, and tape. They cost about $10，” says paul.

With his new hand, Leon can do things better. “I can help my mom more, because now I can carry two grocery bags，” he says.

Leonˈs father has already built several hands for Leon. Leon helps design each one. He says thereˈs one thing in particular that he wants to do with a future prosthesis. “The goal，” he says, “is to be able to tie my shoelaces(鞋带)．”

Not so long ago, most people didn’t know who Shelly Ann Francis Pryce was going to become. She was just an average high school athlete. There was every indication that she was just another American teenager without much of a future. However, one person wants to change this. Stephen Francis observed then eighteen-year-old Shelly Ann as a track meet and was convinced that he had seen the beginning of true greatness. Her time were not exactly impressive, but even so, he seemed there was something trying to get out, something the other coaches had overlooked when they had assessed her and found her lacking. He decided to offer Shelly Ann a place in his very strict training seasons. Their cooperation quickly produced results, and a few year later at Jamaica’s Olympic games in early 2008, Shelly Ann, who at that time only ranked number 70 in the world, beat Jamaica’s unchallenged queen of the sprint(短跑).

“Where did she come from?” asked an astonished sprinting world, before concluding that she must be one of those one-hit wonders that spring up from time to time, only to disappear again without signs. But Shelly Ann was to prove that she was anything but a one-hit wonder. At the Beijing Olympic she swept away any doubts about her ability to perform consistently by becoming the first Jamaican woman ever to win the 100 meters Olympic gold. She did it again one year on at the World Championship in Briton, becoming world champion with a time of 10.73--- the fourth record ever.

Shelly-Ann is a little woman with a big smile. She has a mental toughness that did not come about by chance. Her journey to becoming the fastest woman on earth has been anything but smooth and effortless. She grew up in one of Jamaica’s toughest inner-city communities known as Waterhouse, where she lived in a one-room apartment, sleeping four in a bed with her mother and two brothers. Waterhouse, one of the poorest communities in Jamaica, is a really violent and overpopulated place. Several of Shelly-Ann's friends and family were caught up in the killings; one of her cousins was shot dead only a few streets away from where she lived. Sometimes her family didn’t have enough to eat. She ran at the school championships barefooted because she couldn’t afford shoes. Her mother Maxime, one of a family of fourteen, had been an athlete herself as a young girl but, like so many other girls in Waterhouse, had to stop after she had her first baby. Maxime’s early entry into the adult world with its responsibilities gave her the determination to ensure that her kids would not end up in Waterhouse's roundabout of poverty. One of the first things Maxime used to do with Shelly-Ann was taking her to the track, and she was ready to sacrifice everything.

It didn't take long for Shelly-Ann to realize that sports could be her way out of Waterhouse. On a summer evening in Beijing in 2008, all those long, hard hours of work and commitment finally bore fruit. The barefoot kid who just a few years previously had been living in poverty, surrounded by criminals and violence, had written a new chapter in the history of sports.

But Shelly-Ann’s victory was far greater than that. The night she won Olympic gold in Beijing, the routine murders in Waterhouse and the drug wars in the neighbouring streets stopped. The dark cloud above one of the world’s toughest criminal neighbourhoods simply disappeared for a few days. “ I have so much fire burning for my country,”Shelly said. She plans to start a foundation for homeless children and wants to build a community centre in Waterhouse. She hopes to inspire the Jamaicans to lay down their weapons. She intends to fight to make it a woman’s as well as a man’s world.

As Muhammad Ali puts it, “ Champions aren't made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them. A desire, a dream, a vision.” One of the things Shelly-Ann can be proud of is her understanding of this truth.

D

    Twenty years ago, I was at a party, talking to a man whose name I have long since forgotten. Sometimes I think this man came into my life for the sole purpose of telling me this story, which has delighted and inspired me ever since.

    The story he told me was about his younger brother, who was trying to be an artist; it was a real story about how brave, creative, and trusting his brother was. For the purpose of this story, let's call the little brother Little Brother.

    Little Brother, a young painter, went to France to surround himself with beauty and inspiration. He lived on the cheap, painted every day, visited museums, traveled to picturesque places, bravely spoke to everyone he met, and showed his work to anyone who would look at it. One afternoon, he struck up a conversation at a cafe with a group of charming young people, who turned out to be some fancy nobles. They took a 1iking to Little Brother and invited him to a party that weekend in a castle in the Loire Valley. They said this was going to be the party of the year. It would be attended by the rich and famous and by several crowned heads of Europe. Best of all, it was a masquerade ball(化妆舞会), where nobody would hesitate in their spending on the costumes(特殊场合穿的套服). "Dress up," they said, "and join us!"

    Excited, Little Brother worked all week on a costume that he was certain would be highly impressive. He held back on neither the details nor the imagination of this creation. Then he rented a car and drove three hours to the castle. He changed into his costume in the car and went up the castle steps. Little Brother entered the ballroom, head held high.

    Upon arrival, he immediately realized his mistake.

    This was indeed a costume party — his new friends had not misled him there — but he had missed one detail in translation: This was a themed costume party. The theme was "a medieval court." and Little Brother was dressed as a lobster(龙虾).

    All around him, the wealthy and beautiful were dressed in fancy clothes, wearing sparkling jewels. Little Brother, on the other hand, was wearing a red coat, red tights, red ballet slippers, and giant red claws. Also, his face was painted red. And he was the only American in the room, too.

    He stood at the top of the steps for one long, frightful moment. Running away in shame seemed like the easiest response. But he didn't run. Somehow, he found his determination. He'd come this far, after all. He'd worked really hard to make this costume, and he was proud of it. He took a deep breath and walked onto the dance floor.

    As he moved into the crowd, a silence fell. The dancing stopped. The other guests gathered around Little Brother. Finally someone asked him what on earth he was.

    Little Brother bowed deeply and announced, "I am the court lobster."

    Then: laughter.

    Not ridicule — just joy. They loved him. They loved his sweetness, his weirdness(怪诞), his giant red claws, and his skinny legs in his bright tights. He made the party. Little Brother even ended up dancing with the queen of Belgium.

    This is how you must do it, people.

    At some point or another, I have created something in my life that did make me feel like I was the guy who just walked into a fancy ball wearing a homemade lobster costume. But you must stubbornly walk into that room, and you must hold your head high. Never apologize for it, never explain it away, and never be ashamed of it. You did your best with what you knew, and you worked with what you had, in the time you were given. You were invited, you showed up, and you simply cannot do more than that.

    They might throw you out — then again, they might not. The ballroom is often more welcoming and supportive than you could ever imagine. You might end up dancing with royalty.

    Or you might just end up having to dance alone in the corner with your big, ugly red claws waving in the empty air.

    That's fine too. Sometimes it's like that. What you absolutely must not do is walk out. Otherwise yon will miss the party, and that would be a pity because — please believe me — we did not come all this great distance, and make all this great effort, only to miss the party at the last moment.

Andy never wanted to go to bed on time. His parents had explained to him how important it was to go to bed early and get a good rest. But Andy paid no attention to them, and they didn't know what to do until one weekend when they were visiting Andy's grandparents.

Grandpa Peter heard all about it and said, "This sounds like a job for Tubby." They loaded the cat onto the car and returned home.

That night, at bedtime, the same problem arose. Andy didn't want to go to bed, and even though his parents waited a while to see if Tubby would solve the problem, nothing happened. Andy's father began to complain.

Hours later, Andy finally decided to go to bed. But what a surprise when he entered his bedroom! Tubby was in his bed, pot-belly in the air, sound asleep.

Andy tried to move the cat, but there was no way. That night he hardly slept, lying on one tiny corner of his bed.

The next day the same thing happened, even though Andy was much more tired from not having slept. When the third day arrived, he had understood that if he wanted to sleep in his bed, he would have to get into it before Tubby did. That night, when his parents only started hinting (暗示) at the topic of bedtime, Andy rushed upstairs and dived into bed. His parents couldn't believe it. They knew nothing about Tubby in the bed, nor did they understand why Andy went to bed on time, without complaint. They were so happy about this that they stayed up quite late, celebrating.   

     A city child`s summer is spent in the street in front of his home, and all through the long summer vacations I sat on the edge of the street and watched enviously the other boys on the block play baseball. I was never asked to take part even when one team had a member missing—not out of special cruelty, but because they took it for granted I would be no good at it. They were right, of course.

     I would never forget the wonderful evening when something changed. The baseball ended about eight or eight thirty when it grew dark. Then it was the custom of the boys to retire to a little stoop (门廊) that stuck out from the candy store on the corner and that somehow had become theirs. No grownup ever sat there or attempted to. There the boys would sit, mostly talking about the games played during the day and of the game to be played tomorrow. Then long silences would fall and the boys would wander off one by one. It was just after one of those long silences that my life as an outsider changed. I can no longer remember which boy it was that summer evening who broke the silence with a question: but whoever he was, I nod to him gratefully now. “What`s in those books you`re always reading?” he asked casually. “Stories,” I answered. “What kind?” asked somebody else without much interest.

     Nor do I know what drove me to behave as I did for usually I just sat there in silence, glad enough to be allowed to remain among them; but instead of answering his question, I told them for two hours the story I was reading at the moment. The book was Sister Carrie. They listened bug-eyed and breathless. I must have told it well, but I think there was another and deeper reason that made them to keep an audience. Listening to a tale being told in the dark is one of the most ancient of man`s entertainments, but I was offering them as well, without being aware of doing it, a new and exciting experience.

     The books they themselves read were the Rover Boys or Tom Swift or G.A. Henty. I had read them too, but at thirteen I had long since left them behind. Since I was much alone I had become an enthusiastic reader and I had gone through the books-for-boys series. In those days there was no reading material between children`s and grownups` books or I could find none. I had gone right from Tome Swift and His Flying Machine to Theodore Dreiser and Sister Carrie. Dreiser had hit my young mind, and they listened to me tell the story with some of the wonder that I had had in reading it.

     The next night and man y nights thereafter, a kind of unspoken ritual (仪式) took place. As it grew dark, I would take my place in the center of the stoop and begin the evening`s tale. Some nights, in order to taste my victory more completely, I cheated. I would stop at the most exciting part of a story by Jack London or Bret Harte, and without warning tell them that that was as far as I had gone in the book and it would have to be continued the following evening. It was not true, of course; but I had to make certain of my new-found power and position. I enjoyed the long summer evenings until school began in the fall. Other words of mine have been listened to by larger and more fashionable audiences, but for that tough and athletic one that sat close on the stoop outside the candy store, I have an unreasoning love that will last forever.