Tuesdays with Morrie相约星期二 英文原版 [平装] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Mitch Albom（米奇·阿尔博姆） 著

图书标签:

• 自传
• 励志
• 人生哲学
• 死亡
• 师生情
• 美国文学
• 平装书
• 英文原版
• 情感
• 成长

出版社： Knopf Group

ISBN：9780385496490

版次：1

商品编码：19041499

包装：平装

出版时间：1998-12-29

用纸：胶版纸

页数：200

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：10.67x1.52x17.53cm

编辑推荐

　　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 suggesting a neurological problem, and Morrie was brought in for yet another series of tests. In one of those tests, he sat in a special seat as they zapped him with electrical current--an electric chair, of sorts--and studied his neurological responses.
"We need to check this further," the doctors said, looking over his results.
"Why?" Morrie asked. "What is it?"
"We're not sure. Your times are slow."
His times were slow? What did that mean?
Finally, on a hot, humid day in August 1994, Morrie and his wife, Charlotte, went to the neurologist's office, and he asked them to sit before he broke the news: Morrie had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Lou Gehrig's disease, a brutal, unforgiving illness of the neurological system.
There was no known cure.
"How did I get it?" Morrie asked.
Nobody knew.
"Is it terminal?"
Yes.
"So I'm going to die?"
Yes, you are, the doctor said. I'm very sorry.
He sat with Morrie and Charlotte for nearly two hours, patiently answering their questions. When they left, the doctor gave them some information on ALS, little pamphlets, as if they were opening a bank account. Outside, the sun was shining and people were going about their business. A woman ran to put money in the parking meter. Another carried groceries. Charlotte had a million thoughts running through her mind: How much time do we have left? How will we manage? How will we pay the bills?
My old professor, meanwhile, was stunned by the normalcy of the day around him. Shouldn't the world stop? Don't they know what has happened to me?
But the world did not stop, it took no notice at all, and as Morrie pulled weakly on the car door, he felt as if he were dropping into a hole.
Now what? he thought.
As my old professor searched for answers, the disease took him over, day by day, week by week. He backed the car out of the garage one morning and could barely push the brakes. That was the end of his driving.
He kept tripping, so he purchased a cane. That was the end of his walking free.
He went for his regular swim at the YMCA, but found he could no longer undress himself. So he hired his first home care worker--a theology student named Tony--who helped him in and out of the pool, and in and out of his bathing suit. In the locker room, the other swimmers pretended not to stare. They stared anyhow. That was the end of his privacy.
In the fall of 1994, Morrie came to the hilly Brandeis campus to teach his final college course. He could have skipped this, of course. The university would have understood. Why suffer in front of so many people? Stay at home. Get your affairs in order. But the idea of quitting did not occur to Morrie.
Instead, he hobbled into the classroom, his home for more than thirty years. Because of the cane, he took a while to reach the chair. Finally, he sat down, dropped his glasses off his nose, and looked out at the young faces who stared back in silence.
"My friends, I assume you are all here for the Social Psychology class. I have been teaching this course for twenty years, and this is the first time I can say there is a risk in taking it, because I have a fatal illness. I may not live to finish the semester.
"If you feel this is a problem, I understand if you wish to drop the course."
He smiled.
And that was the end of his secret.
ALS is like a lit candle: it melts your nerves and leaves your body a pile of wax. Often. ...

好的，这是一本关于一位年轻记者如何在一次偶然的机会中，与一位他久未联系的大学教授重逢，并跟随这位教授度过生命最后几个月时光的故事。这本书深入探讨了人生的意义、爱、宽恕、面对死亡的勇气，以及如何过上有价值的生活。 图书名称：《相约星期二》（Tuesdays with Morrie） 作者：米奇·阿尔博姆（Mitch Albom） --- 图书简介：生命的最后馈赠 《相约星期二》并非一部沉重的遗嘱，而是一曲对生命、爱与死亡的颂歌。它记录了作者米奇·阿尔博姆（Mitch Albom）在人生的十字路口，与他大学时期最敬爱的社会学教授莫里·施瓦茨（Morrie Schwartz）的最后一段师生情谊。 米奇，一位事业有成却内心迷茫的体育专栏作家，在一次偶然的机会中，于电视上看到了关于他患有肌萎缩性脊髓侧索硬化症（ALS，即“渐冻症”）的莫里教授的报道。这位曾带给他无数智慧启迪的导师，正面临着生命的终结。强烈的触动驱使米奇驱车前往莫里教授的家中，开始了他们每周二的“课程”。 “最后的课程”：对生命的深刻反思 莫里教授的“课堂”设在他那间充满阳光的书房里，没有讲台，只有两张舒适的扶手椅。对于莫里而言，他的人生即将落幕，但他选择将这最后的时间，转化为一场公开且真诚的生命教育。他将自己作为“病人”的经历，转化为对“如何死亡”的深入探讨，而这恰恰引出了对“如何生活”的终极追问。 在接下来的几个月里，米奇每周都会拜访莫里，记录下这些弥足珍贵的对话。这些对话不仅仅是关于ALS的症状和痛苦，更是围绕着人类最核心的困惑： 关于爱与关系： 莫里教授反复强调，在生命的尽头，唯一真正重要的东西是爱。他教会米奇，如何去爱他人，如何接受他人的爱，以及如何维系那些真正有意义的人际关系，而不是被表面的成功和物质所蒙蔽。他分享了他与妻子琼的深厚感情，展示了即使在病痛的折磨下，爱依然是支撑一切的力量。 关于遗憾与宽恕： 莫里教授坦诚地面对自己的遗憾，特别是那些未曾表达的爱和那些未能弥合的关系。他鼓励米奇正视自己内心的不满足，并勇敢地去修复那些断裂的联系。宽恕，无论是宽恕他人还是宽恕自己，被视为放下重担、走向平静的关键一步。 关于恐惧与接受： 随着身体机能的逐渐丧失，莫里教授的生活完全依赖于他人。他以惊人的坦诚和幽默感，面对身体的衰退。他教导米奇，恐惧源于对失去的抗拒，而真正的平静来自于对生命自然规律——生老病死——的接受。他平静地讨论死亡，将其视为生命周期中不可避免的一部分，而非需要逃避的敌人。 关于金钱与价值： 曾几何时，米奇为了追求物质成功，牺牲了许多真正热爱的事物，甚至与自己的良知渐行渐远。莫里教授通过对比自己宁静、充满连接的生活与社会普遍追求的“成功”，引导米奇重新审视生命的真正价值。他指出，当一切物质财富都变得无关紧要时，我们真正拥有的，是那些我们付出和给予的爱。 一个时代的缩影： 这本书不仅是个人的心灵成长记录，也折射出上世纪末美国社会的一种普遍心态：许多人在高速的现代生活中，忙于追逐事业和财富，却忽略了内心的声音和真正的情感需求。米奇的转变，代表着一代人在物质的洪流中，寻求精神锚点的渴望。 莫里教授以他那独特的、充满智慧的、略带戏谑的风格，像一位温柔的引路人，指引着米奇——也指引着所有读者——重新校准人生的指南针。他没有用深奥的哲学理论来教导，而是通过最简单、最直接的生活实例，展现了智慧的穿透力。 为何这本书触动人心？ 《相约星期二》的力量在于它的真实与坦诚。它没有粉饰死亡的痛苦，但却将焦点放在了死亡带来的清晰洞察力上。读者将跟随米奇的视角，目睹一位伟大的心灵如何以尊严和优雅迎接终点。每一次“星期二的课程”，都是一次对自我存在的拷问，一次对“我到底在为什么而活”的深刻探寻。 这本书是一份关于如何活得充实、有意义的珍贵指南。它提醒我们，生命中最深刻的教训，往往来自于那些最脆弱的时刻。当我们最终需要放下一切时，唯一能带走的，是我们给予和接受的爱。莫里教授用他的生命，为我们上了最后，也是最重要的一课。 --- 适合人群： 感到生活迷失或在事业与内心需求之间挣扎的职场人士。 正在经历人际关系挑战，或渴望加深与家人朋友联系的人。 对生命意义、哲学思考，以及如何平静面对困境感兴趣的读者。 寻求温暖、启发性阅读体验的每一个人。 这是一本读完后，你很可能会想立即拿起电话给某个重要的人，告诉他们“我爱你”的书。它将改变你对生命和死亡的看法。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

坦白说，我并不是一个轻易被感动的人，但这本书却成功地击中了我内心深处最柔软的地方。它探讨的问题很宏大——生命的意义，但处理方式却极其细腻和个人化。作者对于导师晚年状态的描绘，既有对生命凋零的无力感，更有对知识和经验传承的无限感激。这种复杂的情感交织，使得这本书的厚度远超一般的励志读物。我特别关注了其中关于“遗憾”的部分，它促使我审视自己过去的选择，并思考如何在余下的时光里，减少不必要的遗憾。这本书的语言有一种魔力，它能将最沉重的话题，用最轻盈的方式表达出来，让人在笑中带泪中领悟到人生的真谛。它教会我，接受不完美，拥抱脆弱，才是真正强大的开始。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

从文学角度来看，这本书的魅力在于其精准的镜头感和鲜明的人物塑造。导师的形象栩栩如生，那种饱经风霜却依然保持着对世界好奇心的样子，深深地烙印在我的脑海中。我甚至能想象出他说话时的语气和手势，这完全归功于作者高超的细节捕捉能力。这本书的阅读体验是一种渐进式的觉醒，每一次重读都会有新的发现，因为它的人生哲理是具有普适性和多层次性的。它不像快餐文化那样追求即时的满足，而是要求读者投入时间去品味，去反思。我发现自己会不自觉地将书中的观点应用到与家人朋友的相处模式中，尝试用更具同理心和耐心的态度去面对冲突和误解。这本书无疑是提升情商和人生智慧的绝佳教材。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书给我的感觉，更像是一份精心准备的“生命礼物”。它不是那种读完就扔在一边的书架装饰品，而是会反复被我拿起，在不同的人生阶段对照着阅读。不同于很多探讨生死的书籍常常陷入的悲观论调，这本书充满了积极的能量，它不是在美化死亡，而是在颂扬“好好活着”这件事的价值。作者真诚地记录了自己从一个忙碌的、迷失方向的职场新人，到最终理解导师教诲的全过程，这种成长曲线让读者感同身受。它让我重新定义了“成功”，不再是外界的评价标准，而是内心的平静与满足。读完它，你会对“时间”这个概念产生敬畏，知道如何去利用有限的生命，去创造无限的价值和爱。这是一部值得收藏，并且应该在人生低谷时拿出来翻阅的经典之作。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

初次接触这本书，是被它那种朴实无华的叙事风格所吸引。没有华丽的辞藻堆砌，没有曲折离奇的情节设计，一切都围绕着两个人之间，跨越时间和知识鸿沟的深度交流展开。这种纯粹的记录方式，反而带给我更强的代入感和震撼力。我仿佛身临其境，坐在那个小小的房间里，聆听那些关于生命、爱、宽恕和人性的深刻探讨。每一次的“相约”，都像是对世俗喧嚣的一次有力回击，提醒着我们慢下来，去关注那些真正能够滋养灵魂的东西。这本书的结构安排也非常巧妙，每一章都有一个明确的主题，但主题之间又相互关联，形成了一个完整的思想体系。我花了很长时间消化这些内容，因为它们需要我们在日常生活中去实践和体会，而不是仅仅停留在书本的文字层面。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书简直是心灵的按摩，读完之后，感觉自己对生活有了一种全新的认识。它不是那种故作高深的哲学著作，而是非常贴近生活的对话，字里行间都透露着一种温暖和智慧。我尤其喜欢作者在记录与导师相处的过程中，那种真挚的情感流露。每当我感到迷茫或者对未来感到焦虑时，翻开这本书的某一页，总能找到一丝慰藉和指引。它让我开始思考，到底什么才是真正重要的？是那些我们孜孜以求的名利，还是身边那些看似微不足道却无比珍贵的情感联结？这本书没有给我标准答案，但它提供了一个绝佳的视角，让我自己去探索和构建属于我的答案。那种感觉，就像是冬日里喝到的一杯热可可，熨帖又舒服，让人忍不住想一读再读，并且向身边的朋友极力推荐。它不仅仅是一本书，更像是一位老朋友在耳边轻声细语，分享人生的真谛。

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以前从来不知道京东评论的重要性，直到最近才发现自己竟然让那么多钱从眼前溜走，所以现在每个商品都会评论下

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老师推荐的，买来看了看，真心很感动，我的第一本英文原版书，很小巧，纸和国内书不一样，自带一股书香

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开本较小，适合随身携带！jd活动，价格实惠，快递给力！

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没有塑封，封面有点脏了，边角有压折，

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掌柜太善良了，真是干一行懂一行呀。在掌柜的指导下我都快变内行人士了！

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超好看，寓意深远的书，值得推荐。

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词根记忆法配合思维导图，事半功倍！有收纳强迫症的人尤其喜欢

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物超所值，非常喜欢，非常期待，值得拥有，值得信赖，值得关注，印刷质量精美，用的很好！

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买100减30，送货上门，方便快捷。