The place contains some online learning materials and learning documentations about English learning.

• 听力特快 — Link

  Focus on: listening
  Description: for downloading VOA,BBC news etc.

• 洪恩在线 — Link

  Focus on: All
  Description: Hong’en ‘s online material

• 中国英语网 — Link

  Focus on: All
  Description: the biggest English study website in China

• wtopnews.com — Link

  Focus on: listening and reading
  Description: Online Washington broadcast

• AP Video — Link

  Focus on: listening
  Description: some English short video like advertisements

• 旺旺英语学习网 — Link

  Focus on: All
  Description: a good personal English study website

• National Public Radio — Link

  Focus on: listening and reading
  Description: National Public Radio of the United States

• Scientific American — Link

  Focus on: listening and reading
  Description: Scientific American: provide the latest Science and Technology information

• VOA — Link

  Focus on: listening and reading
  Description: VOA offical website

• Google translate — Link

  Focus on: Translation
  Description: The free google tool which can translate some major languages into others

• WordSmith Dictionaries — Link

  Focus on: Dictionary
  Description: The online dictionaries

• Dictionary.com — Link

  Focus on: Dictionary
  Description: The online dictionaries

• The New York Times — Link

  Focus on: News
  Description: Get an American viewpoint on domestic and world news

• American humor — Link

  Focus on: Humor
  Description: English Comedy Central

• BBC English training — Link

  Focus on: English learning
  Description: Use the services provided by the world famous BBC to improve all aspects of your English

• BBC radio — Link

  Focus on: Radio, News
  Description: Listen free to numerous BBC radio stations – (humor, news, music etc.)

• British news — Link

  Focus on: News
  Description: Get a British viewpoint on domestic and world news

• Business Balls Acronym Dictionary — Link

  Focus on: Dictionary
  Description: Confounded by all those English acronyms your foreign colleagues use? Find them here!

• Armstrong-Hilton — Link

  Focus on: E-learning
  Description: A website where you can e-learning the English

• Business skills — Link

  Focus on: Business learning
  Description: Useful site to explore all aspects of business

• Free Dictionary — Link

  Focus on: Dictionary
  Description: Another free dictionary. Seems to load faster

• English training podcasts — Link

  Focus on: English training
  Description: Lots of listening in a variety of categories. Navigate through then click on “visit website” to download

• For English practice — Link

  Focus on: ESL training
  Description: English as a Second Language training website

• Pronunciation practice — Link

  Focus on: pronunciation practice
  Description: The world’s most visited pronunciation practice website.

• Mythweb — Link

  Focus on: story
  Description: Humorous renderings of the ancient stories

• Simplified Myths — Link

  Focus on: story
  Description: These are written for students and easier to read, also a section on China

• 泸江英语 — Link

  Focus on: Learning
  Description: The place we can learn more than English!

• Studio Classroom — Link

• 英语世界 — Link

• 普特英语听力- 英语听力的天空 — Link

(via fairyfish.net)

A: Hi, Jane, how are you doing this morning?

B: I’m all right, thanks. Just a little tired.

A: You worked overtime last night?

B: Yeah, I got home at about 2.

A: Hi, Tim. How are you? I haven’t seen you for a long time.

B: I’m fine. I’ve been out of town. I just got back.

A: Where did you go?

B: I went to New York for a meeting.

A: Hi there! My name is Terry. You’re new around here, huh?

B: Yes. My name is Mark. I just started a couple of weeks ago.

A: Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.

B: Thanks. I really appreciate that!

A: Excuse me, Christina?

B: Yes, Mark?

A: Could you tell me where the copier is please?

B: Sure. You just walk down this hallway. The copy room is the second room on the right.

A: Excuse me.

B: Yes, can I help you?

A: Yes, please. I’m looking for Mr. Emory’s office. Do you know where it is?

B: I’m sorry. I don’t know. But the guard over there should know.

A: Mr. Emory’s office. Can I help you?

B: Yes. My name is Walter Parker. I need to book some time with Mr. Emory this morning.

A: I’m sorry, but Mr. Emory is pretty booked up today.

B: I realize that. But we’ve got to work fast on the new plan and our deadline is tomorrow.

A: Let me see …..Umm maybe I can put you down in lunch break. Could you make that?

B: No problem. I’ll come again at 12. Thanks a lot.

A: Would you please take a seat over there, Sir? I’ll let Mr. Emory know that you are here.

B: Thanks. I can wait here.

A: Well, it may take some time. Mr. Emory is in a meeting at the moment. It would probably be more comfortable over there.

B: I see. All right, then. Thanks.

A: Terry? I need the file you took yesterday.

B: I’m sorry, Jane. I left it at home. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.

A: Terry, I told you yesterday that I’d be using the file this afternoon.

B: I know, Jane. I just walked out and it completely slipped my mind. I’ll go home and get it at noon, all right?

A: Hey Terry, do you have the number for that restaurant on the street corner?

B: Yeah, hold on a sec. Here it is. 6407-1553.

A: Great. Thanks.

B: Are you getting take-out?

A: Yeah. Do you want something?

B: Umm…Could you pick me up a chicken salad sandwich and a large diet coke?

A: No problem. But do you have any cash on you? I don’t think I have enough.

A: Christina, can you give me a hand?

B: Sure. What’s wrong, Mark?

A: Well, I think I’ve got the copier running. I pressed the button but nothing came out.

B: Let me have a look. Oh, the machine is running out of paper.

A: Mr. Emory, I’d like to take this afternoon off if it’s all right with you.

B: But Sam, you’ve called in sick 5 times in the last three weeks.

A: I know, Mr. Emory. I’m sorry. But I really need to see the doctor this afternoon. I feel dizzy and I can’t concentrate on my work.

B: All right, then. But don’t forget to bring a doctor’s note in tomorrow.

A: Hello, Mr. Black? This is Christina in Mr. Emory’s office. Mr. Emory would like to set up an appointment with you to talk about buying a new fax machine.

B: Sure. I’d be glad to. What time?

A: He’d like to see you as soon as possible. How about tomorrow at 2pm?

B: Yes. That’ll be great. Tell him I will see him then.

A: Tim, I need to work out a time to get together with your people to discuss the new project.

B: Does everybody need to be there? Jason is on vacation this week.

A: It would be best if everybody could be there. How about sometime next week?

B: Let me take a look at the schedule first. I’ll get back to you this afternoon.

A: Hey Tim. I heard you got a promotion!

B: Yes. I’m going to be running the Walker Avenue Branch.

A: Congratulations! We should have a drink on it. I know a good place in the city. Let’s go together after work.

B: That’s a good idea. It’s my treat this time.

I was slow to understand the deep grievances of women. This was because, as a boy, I had envied them. Before college, the only people I had ever known who were interested in art or music or literature, the only ones who read books, the only ones who ever seemed to enjoy a sense of ease and grace were the mothers and daughters. Like the menfolk, they fretted about money, they scrimped and made-do. But, when the pay stopped coming in, they were not the ones who had failed. Nor did they have to go to war, and that seemed to me a blessed fact. By comparison with the narrow, ironclad days of fathers, there was expansiveness, I thought, in the days of mothers. They went to see neighbors, to shop in town, to run errands at school, at the library, at church. No doubt, had I looked harder at their lives, I would have envied them less. It was not my fate to become a woman, so it was easier for me to see the graces. Few of them held jobs outside the home, and those who did filled thankless roles as clerks and waitresses. I didn’t see, then, what a prison a house could be, since houses seemed to me brighter, handsomer places than any factory. I did not realize—because such things were never spoken of-how often women suffered from men’s bullying. I did learn about the wretchedness of abandoned wives, single mothers, widows; but I also learned about the wretchedness of lone men. Even then I could see how exhausting it was for a mother to cater all day to the needs of young children. But if I had been asked, as a boy, to choose between tending a baby and tending a machine, I think I would have chosen the baby. (Having now tended both, I know I would choose the baby.)

So I was baffled when the women at college accused me and my sex of having cornered the world’s pleasures. I think something like my bafflement has been felt by other boys (and by girls as well) who grew up in dirt-poor farm country, in mining country, in black ghettos, in Hispanic barrios, in the shadows of factories, in Third World nations—any place where the fate of men is as grim and bleak as the fate of women. Toilers and warriors. I realize now how ancient these identities are, how deep the lug they exert on men, the undertow of a thousand generations. The miseries I saw, as a boy, in the lives of nearly all men I continue to see in the lives of many—the body-breaking toil, the tedium, the call to be tough, the humiliating powerlessness, the battle for a living and for territory.

When the women I met at college thought about the joys and privileges of men, they did not carry in their minds the sort of men I had known in my childhood. They thought of their fathers, who were bankers, physicians, architects, stockbrokers, the big wheels of the big cities. These fathers rode the train to work or drove cars that cost more than any of my childhood houses. They were attended from morning to night by female helpers, wives and nurses and secretaries. They were never laid off, never short of cash at month’s end, never lined up for welfare. These fathers made decisions that mattered. They ran the world.

The daughters of such men wanted to share in this power, this glory. So did I. They yearned for a say over their future, for jobs worthy of their abilities, for the right to live at peace, unmolested, whole. Yes, I thought, yes yes. The difference between me and these daughters was that they saw me, because of my sex, as destined from birth to become like their fathers, and therefore as an enemy to their desires. But I knew better. I wasn’t an enemy, in fact or in feeling. I was an ally. If I had known, then, how to tell them so, would they have believed me? Would they now?

A light drizzle was falling as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, eager to get home and play with the presents that Santa had left for us and our baby sister, Sharon. Across the street from the church was a Pan American gas station where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was closed for Christmas, but I noticed a family standing outside the locked door, huddled under the narrow overhang in an attempt to keep dry. I wondered briefly why they were there but then forgot about them as I raced to keep up with Jill. 　　Once we got home, there was barely time to enjoy our presents. We had to go off to our grandparents’ house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we drove down the highway through town, I noticed that the family was still there, standing outside the closed gas station. 　　My father was driving very slowly down the highway. The closer we got to the turnoff for my grandparents’ house, the slower the car went. Suddenly, my father U-turned in the middle of the road and said, “I can’t stand it!” 　　“What?” asked my mother. 　　“Its those people back there at the Pan Am, standing in the rain. Theyve got children. Its Christmas. I can’t stand it.” 　　When my father pulled into the service station, I saw that there were five of them: the parents and three children — two girls and a small boy. 　　My father rolled down his window. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Howdy,” the man replied. He was very tall and had to stoop slightly to peer into the car. 　　Jill, Sharon, and I stared at the children, and they stared back at us. 　　“You waiting on the bus?” my father asked. 　　The man said that they were. They were going to Birmingham, where he had a brother and prospects of a job. 　　“Well, that bus isn’t going to come along for several hours, and you’re getting wet standing here. Winborn’s just a couple miles up the road. They’ve got a shed with a cover there, and some benches,” my father said. “Why dont y’all get in the car and I’ll run you up there.” 　　The man thought about it for a moment, and then he beckoned to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they were wearing. 　　Once they settled in, my father looked back over his shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three glum faces mutely gave him his answer. 　　“Well, I didn’t think so,” my father said, winking at my mother, “because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he was having trouble finding all, and he asked me if he could leave your toys at my house. Well just go get them before I take you to the bus stop.” 　　All at once, the three childrens faces lit up, and they began to bounce around in the back seat, laughing and chattering. 　　When we got out of the car at our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that were spread out under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied Jill’s doll and immediately hugged it to her breast. I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon’s ball. And the other girl picked up something of mine. All this happened a long time ago, but the memory of it remains clear. That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy of making others happy. 　　My mother noticed that the middle child was wearing a short-sleeved dress, so she gave the girl Jill’s only sweater to wear. 　　My father invited them to join us at our grandparents’ for Christmas dinner, but the parents refused. Even when we all tried to talk them into coming, they were firm in their decision. 　　Back in the car, on the way to Winborn, my father asked the man if he had money for bus fare. 　　His brother had sent tickets, the man said. My father reached into his pocket and pulled out two dollars, which was all he had left until his next payday. He pressed the money into the man’s hand. The man tried to give it back, but my father insisted. “It’ll be late when you get to Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I’ve been broke before, and I know what it’s like when you can’t feed your family.” 　　We left them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I watched out the window as long as I could, looking back at the little gihugging her new doll.

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the president of Harvard’s outer office .The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods country folk had not business at Harvard, and probably didn’t even deserve to be in Cambridge .She frowned. ”We want to see the president,” the man said softly.” He’ll be busy all day,” the secretary snapped.” We’ll wait,” the lady replied.For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn’t. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president. ”Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they’ll leave,” she told him. He signed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn’t have the time to spend with nobodies, but he detested gingham and homespun suits cluttering his office.The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple .The lady told him, ”We had a son that attended Harvard for one year .He loved Harvard, and was very happy here. But he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him somewhere on campus. ”The president wasn’t touched, and she was shocked, ”Madam,” he said gruffly, ”we can’t put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died, this place would look like a cemetery.“Oh, no“ the lady explained quickly, “we don’t want to erect a statue .We thought we would give a building to Harvard.” The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, and then exclaimed, ”A building! Do you have and earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard.For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased .He could get rid of them now. The lady turned to her husband and said quietly.” Is that all it costs to start a university?” Her husband nodded .The president’s face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the university that bears their name ——-a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who can do nothing for them or to them.

The thermometer had dropped to 18 degrees below zero, but still chose to sleep in the porch as usual. In the evening, the most familiar sight to me would be stars in the sky. Though they were a mere sprinkle of twinkling dots, yet I had become so accustomed to them that their occasional absence would bring me loneliness and ennui.

It had been snowing all night, not a single star in sight. My roommate and I, each wrapped in a quilt, were seated far apart in a different corner of the porch, facing each other and chatting away.

She exclaimed pointing to something afar, “Look, Venus in rising!” I looked up and saw nothing but a lamp round the bend in a mountain path. I beamed and said pointing to a tiny lamplight on the opposite mountain, “It’s Jupiter over there!”

More and more lights came into sight as we kept pointing here and there. Lights from hurricane lamps flickering about in the pine forest created the scene of a star-studded sky. With the distinction between sky and forest obscured by snowflakes, the numerous lamp-lights now easily passed for as many stars.

Completely lost in a make-believe world, I seemed to see all the lamplights drifting from the ground. With the illusory stars hanging still overhead, I was spared the effort of tracing their positions when I woke up from my dreams in the dead of night.

Thus I found consolation even on a lonely snowy night !

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from god’s presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.(by Oriah Mountain Dreamer)