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楼主:飞度云专家 时间:2019年07月22日 01:43:57 点击:0 回复:0
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at heart本质上的A:Ben always appears rude to the people around him.A: 本总是以周围的人表现得很无礼。B: But he#39;s really kind at heart.B:可他事实上是个很善良的人。A: That#39;s true. We can#39;t judge people by appearance.A:是的,我们不能从外表来判断人。 /201510/394334每日一句口语:If you let yourself be undisciplined on the small things, you will probably be undisciplined on the large things as well.如果你在小事上无原则,那么大事上一样没有原则。【知识点讲解】undisciplined adj.无训练的; 训练不足的; 无修养的; 任性的例句:Teachers often view youth workers as undisciplined and ineffectual. 老师们常认为青少年工作者纪律性差且能力低下。 /201704/502820Life gets so dark and we think all the light#39;s gone out of us. But it#39;s always there. If we just open the door a crack, the light comes pouring in.语音讲解:单词发音gone /ɡ#594;n/crack /kr#230;k/pouring /p#596;#720;r#618;#331;/连词发音gone out of us /ɡ#594;na#650;t#601;v#601;s/pouring in /p#596;#720;r#618;#331;#618;n/轻读重读重读:dark/always there/crack/prouring in弱读:and/of us/the词汇讲解1. crackverb.打破Crack the eggs into a bowl.把鸡蛋打在一个碗中。noun.裂缝The plate had a crack in it盘子上有一道裂纹。But there was a sudden CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! as three gunshots came from the woods.但忽然从树林中传来呯!呯!呯!三声响。(《金银岛》)He went to the door, opened it a crack, and listened.他朝门走去,打开一条门缝听着。2. pour in 使流入;大量地涌进来Pour in boiling water and cover up for20-30 minutes.加入开水盖住20-30分钟。Probably should#39;ve just left years ago when the offers were pouring in...或许我该在几年前离开 那时很多人要我接戏…(《老友记第七季》)活学活用pour in 使流入;大量地涌进来英文:News, facts and opinions pour in from every corner of the world.中文:各种消息、事实和见解从世界各个角落大量涌入。语法讲解get在第一句中是连系动词。连系动词本身有一定词义,但不完整,不能独立作谓语,必须与表语一起构成合成谓语。get通常用来指人或物状态的变化。eg: get hurt, get paid。有时,get +过去分词的结构可以代替be+过去分词表被动。练习:Cleaning women usually ___ paid by the hour.:get 关注微信号:TeacherGwen,跟着Gwen老师每天学点英语 /201704/504106

释义:get to somebody 让人不耐烦作为 sth gets to me 的形态表示“因某人感到不耐烦”。当然,get to somebody 表示“靠近……”,“走近”的含义。例句:I guess the stress is getting to me.好像是因为压力才会这么烦躁。It#39;s really getting to me.这真烦人。I#39;m stuck in traffic, and it is really starting to get to me.遇上堵车了,这让我开始越来越不耐烦。We#39;ve got plenty of time before they get to me.在他们靠近我之前还有很多时间。对话:A: The noise really gets to me.噪音很烦人。B: It#39;s from the construction site.是从工地传来的。 /201602/426222

When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found enough to make me rich, but I did discover a beautiful part of the country. It was called the Stanislaus. The Stanislaus was like heaven on earth. It had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees. Other men also looking for gold had reached the Stanislaus hills of California many years before I did. They had built a town in the valley with sidewalks and stores, banks and schools. They had also built pretty little houses for their families. At first they found a lot of gold in the Stanislaus hills. But their good luck did not last. After a few years the gold disappeared. By the time I reached the Stanislaus, all the people were gone to. Grass now grew in the streets, and the little houses were covered by wild rose bushes. Only the sound of insects filled the air, as I walked through the empty town that summer day so long ago. Then I realized I was not alone after all. A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of one of the little houses. This house was not covered by wild rose bushes. A nice little garden in front of the house was full of blue and yellow flowers. White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.Still smiling, the man opened the door of his house and motioned to me. I went inside, and could not believe my eyes. I had been living for weeks in rough mining camps with other gold miners. We slept on the hard ground, ate canned beans from cold metal plates and spent our days in the difficult search for gold. Here in this little house, my spirit seemed to come to life again. I saw a bright rug on the shinning wooden floor. Pictures hung all around the room and on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home.The pleasure I felt in my heart must have shown on my face. The man my thoughts. "Yes. "he smiled: "It is all her work. Everything in this room has felt the touch of her hand." One of the pictures on the wall was not hanging straight. He noticed it and went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was really straight. Then he gave it a gentle touch with his hand. "She always does that." he explained to me, "It is like the finishing pat a mother gives her child's hair after she has brushed it. I've seen her fix all these things so often that I can do it just the way she does. I don't know why I do it, I just do it." As he talked I realized there was something in this room that he wanted me to discover. I looked around. When my eyes reached the corner of the room near the fireplace. He broke into a happy laugh, and rubbed his hands together. "That's it!" he cried out: "You've found it. I know you would. It is her picture."I went to a little black shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. There was a sweetness and softness in the woman's expression that I had never seen before. The man took the picture from my hands and stared at it. "She was nineteen on her last birthday that was the day we were married. When you see her, oh, just wait until you meet her!" "Where is she now? " I asked. "Oh, she is away." the man sighed putting the picture back on the little black shelf. "She went to visit her parents. They live forty or fifty miles from here. She has been gone two weeks to date." "When will she be back?" I asked."Well, this is Wednesday. "He said slowly, "She will be back on Saturday, in the evening." I felt a sharp sense of regret. "I'm sorry, because I will be gone by then," I said. "Gone? No, why should you go? Don't go. She will be so sorry. You see, she likes to have people come and stay with us." "No, I really must leave. "I said firmly.He picked up her picture and held it before my eyes. "Here, "he said "Now you tell her to her face that you could have stayed to meet her, and you would not."Something made me change my mind as I looked at the picture for a second time. I decided to stay. The man told me his name was Henry. That night Henry and I talked about many different things but mainly about her. The next day passed quietly. Thursday evening we had a visitor. He was a big gray hair miner named Tom. "I just came for a few minutes and ask when she is coming home. "He explained: "Is any news?" "Oh, yes, "the man replied, "I got a letter. Would you like to hear it? " He took a yellow letter out of his shirt pocket and it to us. It was full of loving messages to him and to other people, their close friends and neighbors. When the man finished ing it, he looked at his friend. "Oho, no, you're doing it again Tom! You always cry when I a letter from her. I am going to tell her this time." "No, you must not do that, Henry. " The gray hair miner said, "I am getting old and any little sorrow makes me cry. I really was hoping she would be here tonight." The next day, Friday, another old miner came to visit .He asked to hear the letter .The message in it made him cry too." We all miss her so much." He said.Saturday finally came .I found I was looking at my watch very often. Henry noticed this. "You don't think something has happened to her, do you?" he asked me. I smiled and said that I was sure she was just fine. But he did not seem satisfied .I was glad to see his two friends Tom and Joe coming down the road as the sun began to set. The old miners were carrying guitars, They also brought flowers and a bottle of whiskey. They put the flowers in vases and began to play some fast and lovely songs on their guitars. Henry's friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey which they made him drink.When I reached for one of the two glasses left on the table, Tom stopped my arm. "Drop that glass and take the other one." He whispered.He gave the remaining glass of whiskey to Henry just as the clock began to strike midnight. Henry emptied the glass .His face grew whiter and whiter. "Boys, "He said, " I am feeling sick, I want to lie down!" Henry was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth. In a moment his two friends had picked him up and carried him into the bedroom. They closed the door and came back. They seemed to be getting y to leave. So I said: "Please don't go, gentlemen. She will not know me; I am a stranger to her." They looked at each other. "His wife has been dead for nineteen years!" Tom said. "Dead?" I whispered. "Dead was . " He said "She went to see her parents about six months after she got married, on the way back, on a Saturday evening in June, when she was almost here, Indians captured her .No one ever saw her again. Henry lost his mind .He thinks she is still alive. When June comes, he thinks she has gone on her trip to see her parents. Then he begins to wait for her to come back. He gets out that old letter and we come around to visit so he can it to us. On the Saturday night she is supposed to come home .We come here to be with him .We put a sleeping drug in his drink so he will sleep through the night. Then he's all right for another year."Joe picked up his hat and his guitar." We have done this every June for nineteen years." He said, "The first year there were twenty-seven of us, Now just the two of us are left."He opened the door of the pretty little house, and the two old men disappeared into the darkness of the Stanislaus.You have just heard the story "The Californian's Tale”. It was written by Mark Twain and adapted for Special English by Donald Sanctus. Your storyteller was Shep O'Neal. For VOA Special English, this is Shirley Griffith . Article/200801/23646

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