喜欢霍桑的小说《红字》，也喜欢95版同名电影，这个版本的电影网上评分不高，颇让我有些不解。

电影的男主是加里.奥德曼，女主是黛米.摩尔，都是很棒的演员。黛米.摩尔就不用说了，一直以来，她都是银幕上一道靓丽的风景。如果你曾被《至暗时刻》的丘吉尔迷倒，那你一定要回头看看《红字》里三十几岁的狗爹，那真是魅力十足！绝不是当下流行的花美男。

找一个周末，沏一杯清茶，慢慢品味这部电影，这样的周末定然会与众不同。或者，你的周末竟如同我的上一个周末，窗外也有着淅淅沥沥的雨声，你还能借着雨声，听到男女主灵魂的低吟。毕竟霍桑的文字足够好，男女主又足够养颜，你怎能错过？

如果你是原著铁粉，那么请绕道。因为电影的结局与原著不同，编剧或许是觉得现世已然苦累，就在电影里留了一点温暖。这对无条件忠实原著的读者而言，也许是不能接受的。

如果在错的时间遇上对的人，你是愿意与他（她）擦肩而过？还是开始一场轰轰烈烈却惊世骇俗的恋爱？

寻求一篇读后感

《繁星.春水》读后感
生命的意义是什么？每个人对生命的感悟都是不同的。
冰心奶奶说:生命就是无私奉献。当你觉得无助的时候，身旁可能会有个人伸出援助之手来帮你。这正是“心底无私，奉献爱心”社会就会处处温暖如春。我曾经看过一部电影，里面最后讲的就是无私奉献的感人故事。一个自私自利的人，居然在别人有生命危险时去救他们，这种精神不是无私奉献么？虽然，我们很渺小，但同样地能做到无私奉献。街上到处可以看见清洁工，学校常常看到老师，他们不正是无私奉献的象征吗？我们本来出生时就需要帮助的，也因为有了父母的无私奉献，我们才能健康快乐地成长。也许，我们不能做什么很伟大的事儿，可身边还有很多小事等着我们去做……
一个人的一生不算长。只有短短的几十年最多数百年好活。但是我们要做的事太多了，我们要完成的心愿太多了。只有珍惜自己这得来不易的一次生命，尽可能的不虚度年华，使自己不留遗憾，这样才不算在世上白走一遭。冰心奶奶觉得人生中最重要的是奉献；邮差感觉自己人生中最重要的是送信；小孩子说，人活着是为了享受，享受阳光，享受空气，享受每一次成功后的快感，享受世间的全部……
自一个呱呱坠地来到这个世界上，所有的一切都是通过追求所得的。不光拥有理想你的生活会丰富多彩，还需要执著地去追求。我们现在学习，也是一种追求，我们追求的是知识。长大以后，我们追求的便是幸福美好的生活。追求是生活中必不可少的东西，它能激励着人们奋斗，创造出更好的事物。我们渴望追求美好的一切，但事与愿违，事事都不会一帆风顺，所以我们更应该努力奋斗、努力进取。
人生如梦，人的生命是短暂的，如果你现在不努力，那么你今后就很难追求到幸福的生活……
人生百味，酸甜苦辣，喜怒哀乐，悲欢离合，应有尽有。其实上帝是公平的，他每天赐于每个人都是二十四小时，每个人都会经历生老病死。一位哲人讲过，你右手得到的东西会从你左手失去。所以，谁也不至活得一无是处，谁也不能活得了无遗憾吧……
我无法给生命定义，因为，每个人对生命的感悟都是不同的。总而言之，生命是短暂的。请珍惜你的生命,努力地追求,去奋斗,去拼搏吧!有付出,必定有收获,使自己的生命发出耀眼夺目的光吧！
《假如给我三天光明》读后感 (一)
《假如给我三天光明》是美国作家海伦凯勒写的，我想这位作家同学们一定非常熟悉吧。她是一位了不起的女性，她很小的时候既聋又哑还盲。也许大家都不会相信，正是这个残疾的女孩子竟创造了许多不可思议的奇迹。她不仅学会了多种语言，还考进了剑桥大学。她就是用这种惊人的成绩受到了全世界人民的敬仰。
海伦写这篇文章，就是因为自己看不见多姿多彩的世界，却又是那么想看一眼这个她生活的地方。所以她非常羡慕那些有一双明亮眼睛的朋友，希望他们能好好珍惜。《假如给我三天光明》写出了一个失明者对光明的无限渴望。哪怕只有三天，短短三天，她也一定会加倍珍惜，她也能在这短短的三天做出许多事。那么，大家想一下，我们这些耳聪目明的人，不要说三天，就是三十天，三百天-----甚至更多的时间，大家又是怎样安排的呢？假如说什么时候我们只有三天光明了，过了三天的期限我们再也不能看到美好的世界，那会发生什么情况？大家一定会说：“我们要抓紧时间，把各门功课做好，把要做的事情做好，把时间安排的井井有条，一分一秒都不能轻易地浪费。”
对啊！同学们，为什么要到失去时才去醒悟，才去叹息，才会觉得光明实在太宝贵呢？连海伦?凯勒都可以在黑暗中探求光明，摸索寻找正确的人生之路，我们这些正常人又何尝不可？我希望大家读了这篇文章后，好地学习，好好地生活，合理安排时间，不轻言放弃，不轻易被击倒，珍惜现在的幸福时光，这样才不会辜负了上帝赐予我们的明亮眼睛，和一切美好的东西。不要等到失去的时候才追悔莫及，才会无限留恋，才觉得光明的宝贵。
是的，珍惜现在，珍惜每时每刻，应该是我们真正需要做的。
《假如给我三天光明》读后感 (二)
马克?吐温曾经说过：“十九世纪有两奇人，一个是拿破伦，一个就是海伦?凯勒。”最近我读了一本关于海伦的书——《假如给我三天光明》，读完这本书之后我的心被海伦的精神深深的震撼了！
在书中，海伦说：“知识给人以爱，给人以光明，给人以智慧，应该说知识就是幸福，因为有了知识，就是摸到了有史以来人类活动的脉搏，否则就不懂人类生命的音乐！”。的确，知识的力量是无穷的，正是知识使海伦创造了这些人间奇迹！
海伦是不幸的，但她又是幸运的，正是因为有了知识，她才如此幸运。在她19个月失去视觉和听觉后，就与这个世界失去了沟通，失去了联系，这个的幼小生命不知道如何排谴与世隔绝的孤独感，她古怪、粗暴、无礼，直至她的莎莉文老师走进了她的生活，教会她认字，才使她张开了心灵的眼睛，得以与人沟通。一接触到了知识，孤独的海伦意识到只有知识才能铺就一条通向光明之路。当海伦感悟到“水”——这个她所认识的第一个字后，便开始了对知识、对世界强烈的渴求，开始了迫不及待地认字、阅读，像一块海绵不断地从生命本身汲取知识。对知识的渴求，使她在常人难以想象的单调和枯燥中竟然学会了德语、拉丁语、法语等多国语言，阅读了多部文学和哲学名著，吸取着那些伟人和智者的思想精髓。她把学习比做攀登奇山险峰，跌倒了再爬上去，每得到一点进步，就有一份鼓舞，逐渐看到更为广阔的世界，直到璀璨的云端、蓝天的深处、希望的顶峰！这些知识，像一道道彩虹，点亮了海伦心中的灯，照亮了她的内心世界，也架起了海伦和这个世界沟通的桥梁！
书中，海伦用细腻的笔触，对大自然景色的描写，使人很难相信出自一位盲聋人之笔；她去骑马、划船、游泳、划雪橇，甚至独自一人月夜泛舟，用心去领略月下荷塘的美景；她去参观博物馆，“听”音乐会，甚至去“欣赏”歌剧．．．．．．我相信她一定是用心来感受这个世界，用心来享受生命。她远比我们这些正常人活得幸福、活得充实、活得有意义！是知识给了她生活的勇气，是知识给了她接受生命挑战的力量，使她能以惊人的毅力面对困境，终于在黑暗中找到了人生的光明。是知识使她产生了一种的信仰：现实环境固然可怕，但人类应该抱持希望，不断奋斗。生命的意义何在，人生的价值何在？人的一生是短暂的，我们似乎从未想过或不敢想象未来的世界，每日懒懒地生活，懒懒地工作，遇到困难就怨天尤人，抱怨上天不公。就这样年复一年，日复一日，时间如流水飞逝，过去的日子不再重现，当我们回首往事，是否值得留恋？是否值得纪念？假如，我们每一个人，都用知识点亮自己心中的灯，我相信，这个世界将是一片光明！
海伦，用她艰难却幸福快乐的一生，诠释了生命的意义。她的一生是人类的奇迹，她的自传，使我汗颜，也使我警醒。
在这个世界上，为什么只有聋人才珍惜失而复得的听觉？只有盲人才珍惜重见天日的幸福？让我们珍惜生命中的每一天，去充实生命、去享受生活！海伦说：“我努力求取知识的目的在于为社会人类贡献一点力量。”
知识的力量多么巨大，它能使一个残疾人，变成一个有益于人类、有益于社会的人。假如，我们每一个人，都能像海伦．凯勒一样，在有生之年把对知识的渴求，看作对人生的追求，每天都抱着这种追求，怀着友善、朝气、渴望去生活，我们的人生将会增添多少欢乐、多少幸福啊！
海伦的一生，是生活在黑暗中却给人类带来光明的一生，她用行动证明了人类战胜生命的勇气，给世人留下了一曲永难遗忘的生命之歌！
《假如给我三天光明》读后感 (三)
读过《假如给我三天光明》这本书的朋友一定会被作者的坚强、奋斗、乐观与勇气深深感动。如果你还不了解作者海伦凯勒，那么就让我来向你作介绍吧。
海伦凯勒原来是位健康活泼的小女孩，在19个月大时，因一场急病导致失明、失聪和失语，从此小小的海伦凯勒变得暴躁、任性和孤独。直到七岁，，她在充满爱心与耐心、曾经接近失明、当时只有20岁的莎莉文老师费尽心思的引导下，走出了黑暗与孤寂，感受到了语言的神秘，领悟出了知识的神奇。从此，海伦凯勒求知若渴，凭着自己惊人的毅力，在莎莉文老师的教育和帮助下，以优等的成绩完成了哈佛大学四年的学习，成为人类历史上第一位获得文学学士的盲聋人。
“假如给我三天光明”，海伦凯勒将仔细端详自己的莎莉文老师、亲人、朋友，还有环视自己生活的环境；到森林进行一次远足，放纵一下自己的眼睛；到博物馆对世界的历史与未来、人类进步的奇观作匆忙一瞥；看看黎明时由黑夜变成白昼的动人奇迹；到剧院或电影院享受色彩、优美和动作的完美结合；浏览城市中令人敬畏的建筑艺术；漫步在大街、公园，瞧瞧万花筒般五光十色的景象……“我的眼睛不轻易放过一件小事，它争取密切关注它所看的的每一件事物。”“此后，我摸到每件物品，我的记忆都将鲜明地反应出那件物品是个什么样子。”
这三天对于海伦凯勒真的是奢望。而我们已经拥有了三千多天的光明，让我们反省一下，我们是否都充分利用这天赋的五官和四肢去感受大自然的美丽和生活的美好了吗？“善用你的眼睛吧，犹如明天你将遭到失明的灾难。”
的确，我们太幸运了，我们拥有美好的一切——健全的体魄、良好的学习环境、优秀的老师……从今天起一定抓紧每一分一秒，不要让光阴虚度，不要等失去了才懂得珍惜，要像海伦凯勒那样，不埋怨、不放弃，好好珍惜自己所拥有的，奋发学习，以微笑面对厄运，以顽强的毅力克服困难，以杰出的成就显示生命的价值！

求小说《红字》（The Scarlet Letter）的英文读后感。

between Hawthornes earlier and his later productions there is no solution of literary continuity, but only increased growth and grasp. Rappaccinis Daughter, Young Goodman Brown, Peter Goldthwaites Treasure, and The Artist of the Beautiful, on the one side, are the promise which is fulfilled in The Scarlet Letter and the House of The Seven Gables, on the other; though we should hardly have understood the promise had not the fulfillment explained it. The shorter pieces have a lyrical quality, but the longer romances express more than a mere combination of lyrics; they have a rich, multifarious life of their own. The material is so wrought as to become incidental to something loftier and greater, for which our previous analysis of the contents of the egg had not prepared us.
The Scarlet Letter was the first, and the tendency of criticism is to pronounce it the most impressive, also, of these ampler productions. It has the charm of unconsciousness; the author did not realize while he worked, that this "most prolix among tales" was alive with the miraculous vitality of genius. It combines the strength and substance of an oak with the subtle organization of a rose, and is great, not of malice aforethought, but inevitably. It goes to the root of the matter, and reaches some unconventional conclusions, which, however, would scarce be apprehended by one reader in twenty. For the external or literal significance of the story, though in strict correspondence with the spirit, conceals that spirit from the literal eye. The reader may choose his depth according to his inches but only a tall man will touch the bottom.
The punishment of the scarlet letter is a historical fact; and, apart from the symbol thus ready provided to the authors hand, such a book as The Scarlet Letter would doubtless never have existed. But the symbol gave the touch whereby Hawthornes disconnected thoughts on the subject were united and crystallized in organic form. Evidently, likewise, it was a source of inspiration, suggesting new aspects and features of the truth,—a sort of witch-hazel to detect spiritual gold. Some such figurative emblem, introduced in a matter-of-fact way, but gradually invested with supernatural attributes, was one of Hawthornes favorite devices in his stories. We may realize its value, in the present case, by imagining the book with the scarlet letter omitted. It is not practically essential to the plot. But the scarlet letter uplifts the theme from the material to the spiritual level. It is the concentration and type of the whole argument. It transmutes the prose into poetry. It serves as a formula for the conveyance of ideas otherwise too subtle for words, as well as to enhance the gloomy picturesqueness of the moral scenery. It burns upon its wearers breast, it casts a lurid glow along her pathway, it isolates her among mankind, and is at the same time the mystic talisman to reveal to her the guilt hidden in other hearts. It is the Black Mans mark, and the first plaything of the infant Pearl. As the story develops, the scarlet letter becomes the dominant figure,—everything is tinged with its sinister glare. By a ghastly miracle its semblance is reproduced upon the breast of the minister, where "Gods eye beheld it! the angels were forever pointing at it! the devil knew it well, and fretted it continually with the touch of his burning finger!"—and at last, to Dimmesdales crazed imagination, its spectre appears even in the midnight sky as if heaven itself had caught the contagion of his so zealously hidden sin. So strongly is the scarlet letter rooted in every chapter and almost every sentence of the book that bears its name. And yet it would probably have incommoded the average novelist. The wand of Prospero, so far from aiding the uninititated, trips him up, and scorches his fingers. Between genius and every other attribute of the mind is a difference not of degree, but of kind.
Every story may be viewed under two aspects: as the logical evolution of a conclusion from a premise, and as something colored and modified by the personal qualities of the author. If the latter have genius, his share in the product is comparable to natures in a work of human art,—giving it everything except abstract form. But the majority of fiction-mongers are apt to impair rather than enhance the beauty of the abstract form of their conception, -- if, indeed, it possess any to begin with. At all events, there is no better method of determining the value of a writers part in a given work than to consider the work in what may be termed its prenatal state. How much, for example, of The Scarlet Letter was ready made before Hawthorne touched it? The date is historically fixed at about the middle of the seventeenth century. The stage properties, so to speak, are well adapted to become the furniture and background of a romantic narrative. A gloomy and energetic religious sect, pioneers in a virgin land, with the wolf and the Indian at their doors, but with memories of England in their hearts and English traditions and prejudices in their minds; weak in numbers, but strong in spirit; with no cultivation save that of the Bible and the sword; victims, moreover of a dark and bloody superstition,—such a people and scene give admirable relief and color to a tale of human frailty and sorrow. Amidst such surroundings, then, the figure of a woman stands, with the scarlet letter on her bosom. But here we come to a pause, and must look to the author for the next step.
For where shall the story begin? A "twenty-number" novel, of the Dickens or Thackeray type, would start with Hesters girlhood, and the bulk of the narrative would treat of the genesis and accomplishment of the crime. Nor are hints wanting that this phase of the theme had been canvassed in Hawthornes mind. We have glimpses of the heroine in the antique gentility of her English home; we see the bald brow and reverend beard of her father, and her mothers expression of heedful and anxious love; we behold the girls own face, glowing with youthful beauty. She meets the pale, elderly scholar, with his dim yet penetrating eyes, and the marriage, loveless on her part and folly on his, takes place; but they saw not the bale-fire of the scarlet letter blazing at the end of their path. The ill-assorted pair make their first home in Amsterdam; but at length, tidings of the Puritan colony in Massachusetts reaching them, they prepare to emigrate thither. But Prynne, himself delaying to adjust certain affairs, sends his young, beautiful, wealthy wife in advance to assume her station in the pioneer settlement. In the wild, free air of that new world her spirits kindled, and many unsuspected tendencies of her impulsive and passionate nature were revealed to her. The "rich, voluptuous, Oriental characteristics" of her temperament, her ardent love of beauty, her strong intellectual fibre, and her native energy and capacity,—such elements needed a strong and wise hand to curb and guide them, scarcely disguised as they were by the light and graceful foliage of her innocent, womanly charm. Being left, however, for two years "to her own misguidance," her husband had little cause to wonder, when, on emerging from the forest, the first object to meet his eyes was Hester Prynne, "standing up, a statue of ignominy, before the people." She "doubtless was strongly tempted to her fall;" and though the author leaves the matter there, so far as any explicit statement is concerned, it is manifest that, had he written out what was already pictured before his imagination, the few pregnant hints scattered through the volume would have been developed into as circumstantial and laborious a narrative as any the most deliberate English or French novelist could desire.
For his forbearance he has received much praise from well-meaning critics, who seem to think that he was restrained by considerations of morality or propriety. This appears a little strained. As an artist and as a man of a certain temperament, Hawthorne treated that side of the subject which seemed to him the more powerful and interesting. But a writer who works with deep insight and truthful purpose can never be guilty of a lack of decency. Indecency is a creation, not of God or of nature, but of the indecent. And whoever takes it for granted that indecency is necessarily involved in telling the story of an illicit passion has studied human nature and good literature to poor purpose.
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