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A.to
B.on
C.with
D.for
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更多“He reached his hand ( ) the bag I gave him.”相关的问题
A．...he reached the crest of the spur and shuffled to a stop...
B．...he removed his hand from the bundle...
C．His narrowed eyes took in the open sweep of the quiet grounds...
D．...he slowly, stiffly struggled forward and up the rough stone steps...
听力原文： It was not yet eleven o'clock when a boat crossed the river with a single passenger who promised an extra fare. The ferryman lifted a lantern, together with the moonlight, he found his passenger was a young man of barely eighteen years old, and now, as it seemed on his first visit to town. He was wearing a gray coat, which was in good shape, but which had seen many winters before this one. In his left hand was a walking stick. Brown, curly hair, well-shaped features, bright, cheerful eyes were nature's gifts. About half an hour later, the boat reached the town, and the young man, whose name was Robin, paid the boatman, and then Walked forward into the town with a light step. As he walked, he looked around as eagerly as if be were entering London or Madrid, instead of the little town of a New England colony.
(33)
A．Spring.
B．Summer.
C．Fall.
D．Winter.
Translate the following paragraphs into proper Chinese: When it came to my turn, I noted how tired he looked. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and hard. I took his hand as gently as he had once taken mine. "Hello, Grandpa," I whispered. His eyes slowly opened. "Hello, my friend," he said, with a brief smile. His eyes closed again and I moved on. I was standing by his rosebush when an uncle came to tell me that my grandfather had died. Remembering Grandpa's words, I reached deep within me for those special feelings that had made up our friendship. Suddenly, and truly, I knew what he had meant about never saying goodbye --- about refusing to give in to the sadness.
101.A.the wind B.the clouds C.the rain D.the weather
102.A.Jamie B.his mother C.the fire D.the lights
103.A.Messages B.Accidents C.Troubles D.Questions
104.A.sure B.lucky C.safe D.ready
105.A.lose B.miss C.leave D.forget
Yesterday afternoon John and I were walking along a road where we heard someone shout "Help! Help!" He was in __1__a lake, about a hundred feet from the shore. There was a __2__small boat nearby. We knew immediately what happened. __3__
He had fallen out of the boat and could not swim good enough __4__to reach it or to get to the shore. As we ran towards the lake I saw him sunk, and I was certain that he would drown. But in __5__a moment his head appeared again. Quickly John took out his __6__shoes, jumped into the water and started swimming toward the drowned man. He reached him just as the man went down __7__again. He was close enough as to stretch out his hand and try __8__to take hold of the man's clothes or his hair before he sank.But the man threw out his arms in fear, caught John across the __9__neck, and began to draw him down under the water. John fought to keep his head above the water and at the same time tried to swim toward the boat, pulled the man with him. __10__
A．tense
B．intense
C．tension
D．intensive
A couple of odd things have happened lately.
I have a log cabin in those woods of Northern Wisconsin. I built it by hand and also added a greenhouse to the front of it. It is a joy to live in. In fact, I work out of my home doing audio production and environmental work. As a tool of that trade I have a computer and a studio.
I also have a tree frog that has taken up residence in my studio.
How odd, I thought, last November when I first noticed him sitting atop my sound-board over my computer. I figured that he (and I say he, though I really don't have a clue if she is a he or vice versa) would be more comfortable in the greenhouse. So I put him in the greenhouse. Back he came. And stayed. After a while I got quite used to the fact that as I would check my morning email and on-line news, he would be there with me surveying the world.
Then, last week, as he was climbing around looking like a small gray/green human, I started to wonder about him.
So, there I was, working in my studio and my computer was humming along. I had to stop when Tree Frog went across my view. He stopped and turned around and just sat there looking at me. Well, I sat back and looked at him. For five months now he had been riding there with me and I was suddenly overtaken by an urge to know why he was there and not in the greenhouse, where I figured he'd live a happier frog life.
"Why are you here," I found myself asking him.
As I looked at him, dead on, his eyes looked directly at me and I heard a tone. The tone seemed to hit me right in the center of my mind. It sounded very nearly like the same one as my computer. In that tone I could hear him "say" to me, "Because I want you to understand." Yo. That was weird. "Understand what？" my mind jumped in. Then, after a moment of feeling this communication, I felt I understood why he was there. I came to understand that frogs simply want to hear other frogs and to communicate. Possibly the tone of my computer sounded to him like other tree frogs.
Interesting.
I kept working. I was working on a story about global climate change and had just received a fax from a friend. The fax said that the earth is warming at 1.9 degrees each decade. At that rate I knew that the maple trees that I love to tap each spring for syrup would not survive for my children. My beautiful Wisconsin would become a prairie by the next generation.
At that moment Tree Frog leaped across my foot and sat on the floor in front of my computer. He then reached up his hand to his left ear and cupped it there. He sat before the computer and reached up his right hand to his other ear. He turned his head this way and that listening to that tone. Very focused. He then began to turn a very subtle, but brilliant shade of green and leaped full force onto the computer.
And then I remembered the story about the frogs that I had heard last year on public radio. It said frogs were dying around the world. It said that because frog's skin is like a lung turned inside out, their skin was being affected by pollution and global climate change. It said that frogs were being found whose skin was like paper. All dried up. It said that frogs are an "indicator species". That frogs will die first because of the sensitivity.
Then, I understood.
The frogs have a message for us and it is the same message that some sober folks have had for us. "There are no more choices." We have reached the time when we must be the adults for the planet, for the sake of the future generations of humans and for frogs.
Because we are related.
Then I understood that there are no boundaries, that there is no more time.
That we, for the sake of our relatives, must act now.
And then I understood, not only why the frog was there, but, also why I am here.
Cherry-scented smoke from Grandpa’s pipe kept the hungry mosquitoes at bay while gray, wispy swirls danced around our heads. Now and again, he blew a smoke ring and laughed as I fried to target the hole with ray finger. I, clad in a cool summer night, and Grandpa, his sleeveless T-shirt, sat watching the traffic. We counted cars and tried to guess the color of the next one to turn the corner.
Once again, I was caught in the middle of circumstances. The fourth born of six children, it was not uncommon that I was either too young or too old for something. This night I was both. While my two baby brothers slept inside the house, my three older siblings played with friends around the comer, where I was not allowed to go. I stayed with Grandpa, and that was okay with me. I was where I wanted to be. My grandfather was babysitting while my mother, father and grandmother went out.
"Thirsty？" Grandpa asked, never removing the pipe from his mouth.
"Yes," was my reply.
"How would you like to nm over to the gas station there and get yourself a bottle of Coke？"
I couldn’t believe my ears. Had I heard it right？ Was he talking to me？ On my family’s modest income, Coke was not a part of our budget or diet. A few tantalizing sips was all I had ever had, and certainly never my own bottle.
"Okay," I replied shyly, already wondering how I would get across the street. Surely Grandpa was going to come with me.
Grandpa stretched his long leg out straight and reached his huge hand deep into the pocket. I could hear the familiar jangling of the loose change he always carded. Opening his fist, he exposed a mound of silver coins. There must have been a million dollars there, He instructed me to pick out a dime. After he deposited the rest of the change back into his pocket, he stood up.
"Okay," he said, helping me down the stairs and to the curb, "I’m going to stay here and keep an ear out for the babies. I’ll tell yon when it’s safe to cross. You go over to the Coke machine, get your Coke and come back out. Wait for me to tell you when it’s safe to cross back."
My heart pounded. I clutched my dime tightly in my sweaty palm. Excitement took my breath away.
Grandpa held my hand tightly. Together we looked up the street and down, and back up again. He stepped off the curb and told me it was safe to cross. He let go of my hand and I ran. I ran faster than I had ever run before. The street seemed wide. I wondered if I would make it to the other side. Reaching the other side, I turned to fred Grandpa. There he was, standing exactly where I had left him, smiling proudly. I waved.
"Go on, hurry up," he yelled.
My heart pounded wildly as I walked inside the dark garage. I had been inside the garage before with my father. My surroundings were familiar. I heard the Coca-Cola machine motor humming even before I saw it. I walked directly to the big old red-and-white dispenser. I knew where to insert my dime. I had seen it done before and had fantasized about this moment many times.
The big old monster greedily accepted my dime, and I heard the bottles shift. On tiptoes I reached up and opened the heavy door. There they were: one neat row of thick green bottles, necks staring directly at me, and ice cold from the refrigeration. I held the door open with my shoulder and grabbed one. With a quick yank, I pulled it free from its bondage. Another one immediately took its place. The bottle was cold in my sweaty hands. I will never forget the feeling of the c
A．the author would prefer playing with his three older siblings to staying with his grandpa.
B．they were living in the suburbs where there were not too much traffic on the road.
C．the grandpa was always the one to baby sit for the author and his siblings.
D．the author enjoyed the time that he spent with his grandpa.
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