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第一篇：小王子英语读后感
The Little Prince, the iconic 1943 classic written by the French aviator and writer, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, tells a story happened in the Desert of Sahara, about a stranded pilot who befriended a young golden-haired prince, fallen from the skies and constantly questioning the incongruities of human life.
The protagonist in this book, an extraordinary and mysterious little prince, lived on a small planet known as Asteroid B-612, which was comprised of three volcanoes, two active and the other extinct, and a rose with astonishing beauty. The flower was rarely found and charming beyond measure, but she was also vain and self-centred, which made the little prince leave his planet because of his inability to confront her. During his journey, the little prince visited several planets, and had conversations with their inhabitants, including a king, a conceited man, a tippler, a businessman, a lamplighter and a geographer, from whom he found, in bewilderment, how unreasonable and meaningless the world of grown-ups is. Finally, he arrived at the earth, where he was thunderstruck by a heart-breaking fact that his flower was not the only one of her kind in the universe. At that moment appeared a fox, asking the little prince to “tame” him; then he did so. Before the little prince’s departure, the fox convinced him of the uniqueness of the rose to him and the essence of love and responsibility for one another. At the end of the story, on the one-year anniversary of the little prince’s descent to the earth, the pilot walked sadly with his friend to the place where he landed. He saw a yellow poisonous snake bit the little prince, who fell noiselessly to the sand and was presumed to have returned to his planet because no body was found the next day.
Some people believe that The Little Prince is a fairy-tale, for the sentences in it are simple and natural, flow with a poetic grace, which make the whole story easy to read and understand, while others consider it as a fable because of its abundant symbols and metaphors in the ostensibly simple plot. I’d like to venture my opinion that there’s no need to put the book into any certain category because it is of no consequence to do so. Actually, the expression “matters of consequence” has some satirical meaning in this novel, just as what Saint-Exupéry said in the book:
“If you were to say to the grown-ups: ‘I saw a beautiful house made of rose brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof,’ they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: ‘I saw a house that cost $20,000.’ Then they would exclaim: ‘Oh, what a pretty house that is!’”
Grown-ups are always like that. No wonder Saint-Exupéry always wanted to be a child. In the opening of this well-illustrated book, he scoffed at adults’ lack of imagination by showing the readers two interesting pictures: the drawings of a boa constrictor eating an elephant from the outside, regarded as a hat by the adults, and the inside. As a concession to grown-ups who only care about dull and pragmatic matters, and view the world in a quantitative way, the narrator gave up painting, and lived a lonely life as a result of his atypical outlook on life. By saying so, I don’t mean that people should behave childishly on purpose to demonstrate their purity and innocence. Even Saint-Exupéry himself had done big things as all grown-ups do: flew everything from cartography missions to commercial airlines, rescued doomed pilots in the desert, pioneered the mail route from France to South America C the things that bring money, fame and prestige, and all basic necessities of life. I also noticed that Saint-Exupéry mentioned several times in his story that drawing was very difficult for him when grown up because he abandoned it early at the age of six. But I am sure that somewhere, deep inside, he retained a pure and innocent heart. As you can see, he had also done many little things that all little ones do: sketched pictures, comprehended simple things like love and sorrow, like the subtle truths told by the fox to the little prince. Therefore, we can guess that his decision to illustrate his story also lead to his return to the lost innocence as a child.
In my view, Saint-Exupéry is a man with a sensible mind as well as a childlike heart, and maybe that’s why The Little Prince has become perhaps the most widely read book after Bible. Although it was written for children, it strikes a chord with adults for its profoundly philosophical undertones.
Sometimes, I would even have the illusion that Saint-Exupéry was always a child. In his heart, and in his readers’ souls, he was exactly the little prince himself, who refused to grow up and would never grow up. In the year 1944, on a flight mission during World War II, the eccentric aviator flew his plane from Corsica and disappeared forever, which became one of the most mysterious legends in the history of French literature.
In the following 50 years, all the readers of The Little Prince hold the conviction that Saint-Exupéry has returned to his own star. And in the evening, when you look up into the sky, you’ll see five hundred million little laughing bells, on one of which the little prince shall be living, and it is because of him that all the stars become meaningful.
第二篇：小王子的英文读后感
So I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week.
The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:
"If you please-- draw me a sheep!"
"What!"
"Draw me a sheep!"
I jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard. I looked carefully all around me. And I saw a most extraordinary small person, who stood there examining me with great seriousness. Here you may see the best portrait that, later, I was able to make of him. But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model.
That, however, is not my fault. The grown-ups discouraged me in my painter‘s career when I was six years old, and I never learned to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas from the inside.
Now I stared at this sudden apparition with my eyes fairly starting out of my head in astonishment. Remember, I had crashed in the desert a thousand miles from any inhabited region. And yet my little man seemed neither to be straying uncertainly among the sands, nor to be fainting from fatigue or hunger or thirst or fear. Nothing about him gave any suggestion of a child lost in the middle of the desert, a thousand miles from any human habitation. When at last I was able to speak, I said to him: "But-- what are you doing here?"
And in answer he repeated, very slowly, as if he were speaking of a matter of great consequence: "If you please-- draw me a sheep..."
When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey. Absurd as it might seem to me, a thousand miles from any human habitation and in danger of death, I took out of my pocket a sheet of paper and my fountain-pen. But then I remembered how my studies had been concentrated on geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little chap (a little crossly, too) that I did not know how to draw. He answered me:"That doesn‘t matter. Draw me a sheep..."
But I had never drawn a sheep. So I drew for him one of the two pictures I had drawn so often. It was that of the boa constrictor from the outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow greet it with, "No, no, no! I do not want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is a very dangerous creature, and an elephant is very cumbersome. Where I live, everything is very small. What I need is a sheep. Draw me a sheep."
So then I made a drawing.
He looked at it carefully, then he said: "No. This sheep is already very sickly. Make me another."
So I made another drawing.
My friend smiled gently and indulgently. "You see yourself," he said, "that this is not a sheep. This is a ram. It has horns."
So then I did my drawing over once more.
But it was rejected too, just like the others. "This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time."
By this time my patience was exhausted, because I was in a hurry to start taking my engine apart. So I tossed off this drawing.
And I threw out an explanation with it.
"This is only his box. The sheep you asked for is inside."
I was very surprised to see a light break over the face of my young judge:
"That is exactly the way I wanted it! Do you think that this sheep will have to have a great deal of grass?"
"Why?"
"Because where I live everything is very small..."
"There will surely be enough grass for him," I said. "It is a very small sheep that I have given you."
He bent his head over the drawing:
"Not so small that-- Look! He has gone to sleep..."
And that is how I made the acquaintance of the little prince.
