Tuesdays with Morrie相约星期二 英文原版 [平装] 下载 mobi epub pdf 电子书 2024

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　　一个老人，一个年轻人，和一堂人生课。余秋雨教授推荐！
　　《相约星期二》的作者是美国一位颇有成就的专栏作家、电台主持，步入中年以后虽然事业有成，却常常有一种莫名的失落感。一个偶然的机会，他得知昔日自己最尊敬的老教授身患不治之症，便前往探视，并与老教授相约每周二探讨人生。《相约星期二》的主要篇幅就是记述这些谈话的内容。最终，老教授撒手人寰，但作者却从他独特的人生观中得到了启迪，重新找到了生活的意义。《相约星期二》语言流畅，寓意深远，在美国的畅销书排行榜上名列前茅，且有可观的市场潜力。

内容简介

Maybe it was a grandparent, or a teacher, or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and searching, helped you see the world as a more profound place, gave you sound advice to help you make your way through it.
For Mitch Albom, that person was Morrie Schwartz, his college professor from nearly twenty years ago.
Maybe, like Mitch, you lost track of this mentor as you made your way, and the insights faded, and the world seemed colder. Wouldn't you like to see that person again, ask the bigger questions that still haunt you, receive wisdom for your busy life today the way you once did when you were younger?
Mitch Albom had that second chance. He rediscovered Morrie in the last months of the older man's life. Knowing he was dying, Morrie visited with Mitch in his study every Tuesday, just as they used to back in college. Their rekindled relationship turned into one final "class": lessons in how to live.
Tuesdays with Morrie is a magical chronicle of their time together, through which Mitch shares Morrie's lasting gift with the world.

　　这是一个真实的故事：年逾七旬的社会心理学教授莫里在一九九四年罹患肌萎性侧索硬化，一年以后与世长辞。作为莫里早年的得意门生，米奇在老教授缠绵病榻的十四周里，每周二都上门与他相伴，聆听他最后的教诲，并在他死后将老师的醒世箴缀珠成链，冠名《相约星期二》。
　　作者米奇·阿尔博姆是美国著名作家、广播电视主持人，对于他来说，与恩师“相约星期二”的经历不啻为一个重新审视自己、重读人生必修课的机会。这门人生课震撼着作者，也藉由作者的妙笔，感动整个世界。本书在全美各大图书畅销排行榜上停留四年之久，被译成包括中文在内的三十一种文字，成为近年来图书出版业的奇迹。

作者简介

Mitch Albom is an author, playwright, and screenwriter who has written seven books, including the international bestseller Tuesdays with Morrie, the bestselling memoir of all time. His first novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, was an instant #1 New York Times bestseller, as were For One More Day, his second novel, and Have a Little Faith, his most recent work of nonfiction. All four books were made into acclaimed TV films. Albom also works as a columnist and a broadcaster and has founded seven charities in Detroit and Haiti, where he operates an orphanage/mission. He lives with his wife, Janine, in Michigan.

　　米奇·阿尔博姆（1959—），美国著名专栏作家，电台主持，电视评论员，此外还是活跃的慈善活动家。迄今为止，阿尔博姆已出版九部畅销著作，其中纪实作品《相约星期二》在全美各大图书畅销排行榜上停留四年之久，被译成包括中文在内的三十一种文字，全球累计销量超过两千万册，成为近年来图书出版业的奇迹。

精彩书评

"This is a sweet book of a man's love for his mentor. It has a stubborn honesty that nourishes the living."
--Robert Bly, author of Iron John

"A deeply moving account of courage and wisdom, shared by an inveterate mentor looking into the multitextured face of his own death. There is much to be learned by sitting in on this final class."
--Jon Kabat-Zinn, coauthor of Everyday Blessings and Wherever You Go, There You Are

"All of the saints and Buddhas have taught us that wisdom and compassion are one. Now along comes Morrie, who makes it perfectly plain. His living and dying show us the way."
--Joanna Bull, Founder and Executive Director of Gilda's Club

　　临终前，他要给学生上最后一门课，课程名称是人生。上了十四周，最后一堂是葬礼。他把课堂留下了，课堂越变越大，现在延伸到了中国。我向过路的朋友们大声招呼：来，值得进去听听。
　　——余秋雨

前言/序言

The Curriculum
The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class met on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was The Meaning of Life. It was taught from experience.
No grades were given, but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor's head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit.
No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. The last lecture was brief, only a few words.
A funeral was held in lieu of graduation.
Although no final exam was given, you were expected to produce one long paper on what was learned. That paper is presented here.
The last class of my old professor's life had only one student.
I was the student.
It is the late spring of 1979, a hot, sticky Saturday afternoon. Hundreds of us sit together, side by side, in rows of wooden folding chairs on the main campus lawn. We wear blue nylon robes. We listen impatiently to long speeches. When the ceremony is over, we throw our caps in the air, and we are officially graduated from college, the senior class of Brandeis University in the city of Waltham, Massachusetts. For many of us, the curtain has just come down on childhood.
Afterward, I find Morrie Schwartz, my favorite professor, and introduce him to my parents. He is a small man who takes small steps, as if a strong wind could, at any time, whisk him up into the clouds. In his graduation day robe, he looks like a cross between a biblical prophet and a Christmas elf. He has sparkling blue-green eyes, thinning silver hair that spills onto his forehead, big ears, a triangular nose, and tufts of graying eyebrows. Although his teeth are crooked and his lower ones are slanted back--as if someone had once punched them in--when he smiles it's as if you'd just told him the first joke on earth.
He tells my parents how I took every class he taught. He tells them, "You have a special boy here." Embarrassed, I look at my feet. Before we leave, I hand my professor a present, a tan briefcase with his initials on the front. I bought this the day before at a shopping mall. I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me.
"Mitch, you are one of the good ones," he says, admiring the briefcase. Then he hugs me. I feel his thin arms around my back. I am taller than he is, and when he holds me, I feel awkward, older, as if I were the parent and he were the child.
He asks if I will stay in touch, and without hesitation I say, "Of course."
When he steps back, I see that he is crying.

The Syllabus
His death sentence came in the summer of 1994. Looking back, Morrie knew something bad was coming long before that. He knew it the day he gave up dancing.
He had always been a dancer, my old professor. The music didn't matter. Rock and roll, big band, the blues. He loved them all. He would close his eyes and with a blissful smile begin to move to his own sense of rhythm. It wasn't always pretty. But then, he didn't worry about a partner. Morrie danced by himself.
He used to go to this church in Harvard Square every Wednesday night for something called "Dance Free." They had flashing lights and booming speakers and Morrie would wander in among the mostly student crowd, wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants and a towel around his neck, and whatever music was playing, that's the music to which he danced. He'd do the lindy to Jimi Hendrix. He twisted and twirled, he waved his arms like a conductor on amphetamines, until sweat was dripping down the middle of his back. No one there knew he was a prominent doctor of sociology, with years of experience as a college professor and several well-respected books. They just thought he was some old nut.
Once, he brought a tango tape and got them to play it over the speakers. Then he commandeered the floor, shooting back and forth like some hot Latin lover. When he finished, everyone applauded. He could have stayed in that moment forever.
But then the dancing stopped.
He developed asthma in his sixties. His breathing became labored. One day he was walking along the Charles River, and a cold burst of wind left him choking for air. He was rushed to the hospital and injected with Adrenalin.
A few years later, he began to have trouble walking. At a birthday party for a friend, he stumbled inexplicably. Another night, he fell down the steps of a theater, startling a small crowd of people.
"Give him air!" someone yelled.
He was in his seventies by this point, so they whispered "old age" and helped him to his feet. But Morrie, who was always more in touch with his insides than the rest of us, knew something else was wrong. This was more than old age. He was weary all the time. He had trouble sleeping. He dreamt he was dying.
He began to see doctors. Lots of them. They tested his blood. They tested his urine. They put a scope up his rear end and looked inside his intestines. Finally, when nothing could be found, one doctor ordered a muscle biopsy, taking a small piece out of Morrie's calf. The lab report came back suggestin Tuesdays with Morrie相约星期二 英文原版 [平装] 下载 mobi epub pdf txt 电子书 格式

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