单词：Winstonville
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巴斯克维尔猎犬
Chapter 6 The Chestnut Tree was almost empty. A ray of sunlight slanting through a window fell on dusty table-tops. It was the lonely hour of fifteen. A tinny music trickled from the telescreens. Winston sat in his usual corner, gazing into an empty
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It was the middle of the morning, and Winston had left the cubicle to go to the lavatory. A solitary figure was coming towards him from the other end of the long, brightly-lit corridor. It was the girl with dark hair. Four days had gone past since th
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From somewhere at the bottom of a passage the smell of roasting coffee real coffee, not Victory Coffee came floating out into the street. Winston paused involuntarily. For perhaps two seconds he was back in the half-forgotten world of his childhood.
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If there is hope, wrote Winston, it lies in the proles. If there was hope, it MUST lie in the proles, because only there in those swarming disregarded masses, 85 per cent of the population of Oceania, could the force to destroy the Party ever be gene
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In the low-ceilinged canteen, deep underground, the lunch queue jerked slowly forward. The room was already very full and deafeningly noisy. From the grille at the counter the steam of stew came pouring forth, with a sour metallic smell which did not
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Wth the deep, unconscious sigh which not even the nearness of the telescreen could prevent him from uttering when his days work started, Winston pulled the speakwrite towards him, blew the dust from its mouthpiece, and put on his spectacles. Then he
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As he put his hand to the door-knob Winston saw that he had left the diary open on the table. DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER was written all over it, in letters almost big enough to be legible across the room. It was an inconceivably stupid thing to have done
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It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an efffort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to
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Winston was dreaming of his mother. He must, he thought, have been ten or eleven years old when his mother had disappeared. She was a tall, statuesque, rather silent woman with slow movements and magnificent fair hair. His father he remembered more v
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Chapter 3 There are three stages in your reintegration, said OBrien. There is learning, there is understanding, and there is acceptance. It is time for you to enter upon the second stage. As always, Winston was lying flat on his back. But of late his
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Syme had vanished. A morning came, and he was missing from work: a few thoughtless people commented on his absence. On the next day nobody mentioned him. On the third day Winston went into the vestibule of the Records Department to look at the notice
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Winston looked round the shabby little room above Mr Charringtons shop. Beside the window the enormous bed was made up, with ragged blankets and a coverless bolster. The old-fashioned clock with the twelve-hour face was ticking away on the mantelpiec
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We can come here once again, said Julia. Its generally safe to use any hide-out twice. But not for another month or two, of course. As soon as she woke up her demeanour had changed. She became alert and business-like, put her clothes on, knotted the
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Books and arts Book review Winston Churchill's other lives书籍与艺术 书评 丘吉尔的多面人生 Mr high-roller 赌场大亨 No More Champagne: Churchill and His Money. By David Lough. 《莫饮香槟：丘吉尔与金钱》作者：戴维洛
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I When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American Minister, bought Canterville Chase, every one told him he was doing a very foolish thing, as there was no doubt at all that the place was haunted. Indeed, Lord Canterville himself, who was a man of the most punc
英文短篇小说
He selected Friday, August 17th, for his appearance, and spent most of that day in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding in favour of a large slouched hat with a red feather, a winding-sheet frilled at the wrists and neck, and a rusty dagger
英文短篇小说
Virginia grew quite grave, and her little lips trembled like rose-leaves. She came towards him, and kneeling down at his side, looked up into his old withered face. Poor, poor Ghost, she murmured; have you no place where you can sleep? Far away beyon
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Winston Churchill 温斯顿丘吉尔 Winston Churchill began his love affair with painting in his 40's, a mid disastrous circumstance. As First Lord of the Admiralty in 1915, he was deeply involved in a campaign in the Dardanelles that could have sho
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