【有声英语文学名著】不会发生在这里(6)
时间:2018-12-31 作者:英语课 分类:有声英语文学名著
英语课
It Can't Happen Here
by Sinclair Lewis
Chapter 6
I’d rather follow a wild-eyed anarchist 1 like Em Goldman, if they’d bring more johnnycake and beans and spuds into the humble 2 cabin of the Common Man, than a twenty-four-carat, college-graduate, ex-cabinet-member statesman that was just interested in our turning out more limousines 3. Call me a socialist 4 or any blame thing you want to, as long as you grab hold of the other end of the cross-cut saw with me and help slash 5 the big logs of Poverty and Intolerance to pieces.
Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.
His family — at least his wife and the cook, Mrs. Candy, and Sissy and Mary, Mrs. Fowler Greenhill — believed that Doremus was of fickle 6 health; that any cold would surely turn into pneumonia 7; that he must wear his rubbers, and eat his porridge, and smoke fewer cigarettes, and never “overdo.” He raged at them; he knew that though he did get staggeringly tired after a crisis in the office, a night’s sleep made him a little dynamo again, and he could “turn out copy” faster than his spryest young reporter.
He concealed 8 his dissipations from them like any small boy from his elders; lied unscrupulously about how many cigarettes he smoked; kept concealed a flask 9 of Bourbon from which he regularly had one nip, only one, before he padded to bed; and when he had promised to go to sleep early, he turned off his light till he was sure that Emma was slumbering 10, then turned it on and happily read till two, curled under the well-loved hand-woven blankets from a loom 11 up on Mount Terror; his legs twitching 12 like a dreaming setter’s what time the Chief Inspector 14 of the C.I.D., alone and unarmed, walked into the counterfeiters’ hideout. And once a month or so he sneaked 15 down to the kitchen at three in the morning and made himself coffee and washed up everything so that Emma and Mrs. Candy would never know. . . . He thought they never knew!
These small deceptions 16 gave him the ripest satisfaction in a life otherwise devoted 17 to public service, to trying to make Shad Ledue edge-up the flower beds, to feverishly 18 writing editorials that would excite 3 per cent of his readers from breakfast time till noon and by 6 P.M. be eternally forgotten.
Sometimes when Emma came to loaf beside him in bed on a Sunday morning and put her comfortable arm about his thin shoulder-blades, she was sick with the realization 19 that he was growing older and more frail 20. His shoulders, she thought, were pathetic as those of an anemic baby. . . . That sadness of hers Doremus never guessed.
Even just before the paper went to press, even when Shad Ledue took off two hours and charged an item of two dollars to have the lawnmower sharpened, instead of filing it himself, even when Sissy and her gang played the piano downstairs till two on nights when he did not want to lie awake, Doremus was never irritable 21 — except, usually, between arising and the first life-saving cup of coffee.
The wise Emma was happy when he was snappish before breakfast. It meant that he was energetic and popping with satisfactory ideas.
After Bishop 22 Prang had presented the crown to Senator Windrip, as the summer hobbled nervously 23 toward the national political conventions, Emma was disturbed. For Doremus was silent before breakfast, and he had rheumy eyes, as though he was worried, as though he had slept badly. Never was he cranky. She missed hearing him croaking 24, “Isn’t that confounded idiot, Mrs. Candy, EVER going to bring in the coffee? I suppose she’s sitting there reading her Testament 25! And will you be so kind as to tell me, my good woman, why Sissy NEVER gets up for breakfast, even after the rare nights when she goes to bed at 1 A.M.? And — and will you look out at that walk! Covered with dead blossoms. That swine Shad hasn’t swept it for a week. I swear, I AM going to fire him, and right away, this morning!”
Emma would have been happy to hear these familiar animal sounds, and to cluck in answer, “Oh, why, that’s terrible! I’ll go tell Mrs. Candy to hustle 26 in the coffee right away!”
But he sat unspeaking, pale, opening his Daily Informer as though he were afraid to see what news had come in since he had left the office at ten.
When Doremus, back in the 1920’s, had advocated the recognition of Russia, Fort Beulah had fretted 27 that he was turning out-and-out Communist.
He, who understood himself abnormally well, knew that far from being a left-wing radical 28, he was at most a mild, rather indolent and somewhat sentimental 29 Liberal, who disliked pomposity 30, the heavy humor of public men, and the itch 13 for notoriety which made popular preachers and eloquent 31 educators and amateur play-producers and rich lady reformers and rich lady sportswomen and almost every brand of rich lady come preeningly in to see newspaper editors, with photographs under their arms, and on their faces the simper of fake humility 32. But for all cruelty and intolerance, and for the contempt of the fortunate for the unfortunate, he had not mere 33 dislike but testy 34 hatred 35.
He had alarmed all his fellow editors in northern New England by asserting the innocence 36 of Tom Mooney, questioning the guilt 37 of Sacco and Vanzetti, condemning 38 our intrusion in Haiti and Nicaragua, advocating an increased income tax, writing, in the 1932 campaign, a friendly account of the Socialist candidate, Norman Thomas (and afterwards, to tell the truth, voting for Franklin Roosevelt), and stirring up a little local and ineffective hell regarding the serfdom of the Southern sharecroppers and the California fruit-pickers. He even suggested editorially that when Russia had her factories and railroads and giant farms really going — say, in 1945 — she might conceivably be the pleasantest country in the world for the (mythical!) Average Man. When he wrote that editorial, after a lunch at which he had been irritated by the smug croaking of Frank Tasbrough and R. C. Crowley, he really did get into trouble. He got named Bolshevik, and in two days his paper lost a hundred and fifty out of its five thousand circulation.
Yet he was as little of a Bolshevik as Herbert Hoover.
He was, and he knew it, a small-town bourgeois 39 Intellectual. Russia forbade everything that made his toil 40 worth enduring: privacy, the right to think and to criticize as he freakishly pleased. To have his mind policed by peasants in uniform — rather than that he would live in an Alaska cabin, with beans and a hundred books and a new pair of pants every three years.
Once, on a motor trip with Emma, he stopped in at a summer camp of Communists. Most of them were City College Jews or neat Bronx dentists, spectacled, and smooth-shaven except for foppish 41 small mustaches. They were hot to welcome these New England peasants and to explain the Marxian gospel (on which, however, they furiously differed). Over macaroni and cheese in an unpainted dining shack 42, they longed for the black bread of Moscow. Later, Doremus chuckled 43 to find how much they resembled the Y.M.C.A. campers twenty miles down the highway — equally Puritanical 44, hortatory, and futile 45, and equally given to silly games with rubber balls.
Once only had he been dangerously active. He had supported the strike for union recognition against the quarry 46 company of Francis Tasbrough. Men whom Doremus had known for years, solid cits like Superintendent 47 of Schools Emil Staubmeyer, and Charley Betts of the furniture store, had muttered about “riding him out of town on a rail.” Tasbrough reviled 48 him — even now, eight years later. After all this, the strike had been lost, and the strike-leader, an avowed 49 Communist named Karl Pascal, had gone to prison for “inciting to violence.” When Pascal, best of mechanics, came out, he went to work in a littered little Fort Beulah garage owned by a friendly, loquacious 50, belligerent 51 Polish Socialist named John Pollikop.
All day long Pascal and Pollikop yelpingly raided each other’s trenches 52 in the battle between Social Democracy and Communism, and Doremus often dropped in to stir them up. That was hard for Tasbrough, Staubmeyer, Banker Crowley, and Lawyer Kitterick to bear.
If Doremus had not come from three generations of debt-paying Vermonters, he would by now have been a penniless wandering printer . . . and possibly less detached about the Sorrows of the Dispossessed.
The conservative Emma complained: “How you can tease people this way, pretending you really LIKE greasy 53 mechanics like this Pascal (and I suspect you even have a sneaking 54 fondness for Shad Ledue!) when you could just associate with decent, prosperous people like Frank — it’s beyond me! What they must THINK of you, sometimes! They don’t understand that you’re really not a Socialist one bit, but really a nice, kind-hearted, responsible man. Oh, I ought to smack 55 you, Dormouse!”
Not that he liked being called “Dormouse.” But then, no one did so except Emma and, in rare slips of the tongue, Buck 56 Titus. So it was endurable.
by Sinclair Lewis
Chapter 6
I’d rather follow a wild-eyed anarchist 1 like Em Goldman, if they’d bring more johnnycake and beans and spuds into the humble 2 cabin of the Common Man, than a twenty-four-carat, college-graduate, ex-cabinet-member statesman that was just interested in our turning out more limousines 3. Call me a socialist 4 or any blame thing you want to, as long as you grab hold of the other end of the cross-cut saw with me and help slash 5 the big logs of Poverty and Intolerance to pieces.
Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.
His family — at least his wife and the cook, Mrs. Candy, and Sissy and Mary, Mrs. Fowler Greenhill — believed that Doremus was of fickle 6 health; that any cold would surely turn into pneumonia 7; that he must wear his rubbers, and eat his porridge, and smoke fewer cigarettes, and never “overdo.” He raged at them; he knew that though he did get staggeringly tired after a crisis in the office, a night’s sleep made him a little dynamo again, and he could “turn out copy” faster than his spryest young reporter.
He concealed 8 his dissipations from them like any small boy from his elders; lied unscrupulously about how many cigarettes he smoked; kept concealed a flask 9 of Bourbon from which he regularly had one nip, only one, before he padded to bed; and when he had promised to go to sleep early, he turned off his light till he was sure that Emma was slumbering 10, then turned it on and happily read till two, curled under the well-loved hand-woven blankets from a loom 11 up on Mount Terror; his legs twitching 12 like a dreaming setter’s what time the Chief Inspector 14 of the C.I.D., alone and unarmed, walked into the counterfeiters’ hideout. And once a month or so he sneaked 15 down to the kitchen at three in the morning and made himself coffee and washed up everything so that Emma and Mrs. Candy would never know. . . . He thought they never knew!
These small deceptions 16 gave him the ripest satisfaction in a life otherwise devoted 17 to public service, to trying to make Shad Ledue edge-up the flower beds, to feverishly 18 writing editorials that would excite 3 per cent of his readers from breakfast time till noon and by 6 P.M. be eternally forgotten.
Sometimes when Emma came to loaf beside him in bed on a Sunday morning and put her comfortable arm about his thin shoulder-blades, she was sick with the realization 19 that he was growing older and more frail 20. His shoulders, she thought, were pathetic as those of an anemic baby. . . . That sadness of hers Doremus never guessed.
Even just before the paper went to press, even when Shad Ledue took off two hours and charged an item of two dollars to have the lawnmower sharpened, instead of filing it himself, even when Sissy and her gang played the piano downstairs till two on nights when he did not want to lie awake, Doremus was never irritable 21 — except, usually, between arising and the first life-saving cup of coffee.
The wise Emma was happy when he was snappish before breakfast. It meant that he was energetic and popping with satisfactory ideas.
After Bishop 22 Prang had presented the crown to Senator Windrip, as the summer hobbled nervously 23 toward the national political conventions, Emma was disturbed. For Doremus was silent before breakfast, and he had rheumy eyes, as though he was worried, as though he had slept badly. Never was he cranky. She missed hearing him croaking 24, “Isn’t that confounded idiot, Mrs. Candy, EVER going to bring in the coffee? I suppose she’s sitting there reading her Testament 25! And will you be so kind as to tell me, my good woman, why Sissy NEVER gets up for breakfast, even after the rare nights when she goes to bed at 1 A.M.? And — and will you look out at that walk! Covered with dead blossoms. That swine Shad hasn’t swept it for a week. I swear, I AM going to fire him, and right away, this morning!”
Emma would have been happy to hear these familiar animal sounds, and to cluck in answer, “Oh, why, that’s terrible! I’ll go tell Mrs. Candy to hustle 26 in the coffee right away!”
But he sat unspeaking, pale, opening his Daily Informer as though he were afraid to see what news had come in since he had left the office at ten.
When Doremus, back in the 1920’s, had advocated the recognition of Russia, Fort Beulah had fretted 27 that he was turning out-and-out Communist.
He, who understood himself abnormally well, knew that far from being a left-wing radical 28, he was at most a mild, rather indolent and somewhat sentimental 29 Liberal, who disliked pomposity 30, the heavy humor of public men, and the itch 13 for notoriety which made popular preachers and eloquent 31 educators and amateur play-producers and rich lady reformers and rich lady sportswomen and almost every brand of rich lady come preeningly in to see newspaper editors, with photographs under their arms, and on their faces the simper of fake humility 32. But for all cruelty and intolerance, and for the contempt of the fortunate for the unfortunate, he had not mere 33 dislike but testy 34 hatred 35.
He had alarmed all his fellow editors in northern New England by asserting the innocence 36 of Tom Mooney, questioning the guilt 37 of Sacco and Vanzetti, condemning 38 our intrusion in Haiti and Nicaragua, advocating an increased income tax, writing, in the 1932 campaign, a friendly account of the Socialist candidate, Norman Thomas (and afterwards, to tell the truth, voting for Franklin Roosevelt), and stirring up a little local and ineffective hell regarding the serfdom of the Southern sharecroppers and the California fruit-pickers. He even suggested editorially that when Russia had her factories and railroads and giant farms really going — say, in 1945 — she might conceivably be the pleasantest country in the world for the (mythical!) Average Man. When he wrote that editorial, after a lunch at which he had been irritated by the smug croaking of Frank Tasbrough and R. C. Crowley, he really did get into trouble. He got named Bolshevik, and in two days his paper lost a hundred and fifty out of its five thousand circulation.
Yet he was as little of a Bolshevik as Herbert Hoover.
He was, and he knew it, a small-town bourgeois 39 Intellectual. Russia forbade everything that made his toil 40 worth enduring: privacy, the right to think and to criticize as he freakishly pleased. To have his mind policed by peasants in uniform — rather than that he would live in an Alaska cabin, with beans and a hundred books and a new pair of pants every three years.
Once, on a motor trip with Emma, he stopped in at a summer camp of Communists. Most of them were City College Jews or neat Bronx dentists, spectacled, and smooth-shaven except for foppish 41 small mustaches. They were hot to welcome these New England peasants and to explain the Marxian gospel (on which, however, they furiously differed). Over macaroni and cheese in an unpainted dining shack 42, they longed for the black bread of Moscow. Later, Doremus chuckled 43 to find how much they resembled the Y.M.C.A. campers twenty miles down the highway — equally Puritanical 44, hortatory, and futile 45, and equally given to silly games with rubber balls.
Once only had he been dangerously active. He had supported the strike for union recognition against the quarry 46 company of Francis Tasbrough. Men whom Doremus had known for years, solid cits like Superintendent 47 of Schools Emil Staubmeyer, and Charley Betts of the furniture store, had muttered about “riding him out of town on a rail.” Tasbrough reviled 48 him — even now, eight years later. After all this, the strike had been lost, and the strike-leader, an avowed 49 Communist named Karl Pascal, had gone to prison for “inciting to violence.” When Pascal, best of mechanics, came out, he went to work in a littered little Fort Beulah garage owned by a friendly, loquacious 50, belligerent 51 Polish Socialist named John Pollikop.
All day long Pascal and Pollikop yelpingly raided each other’s trenches 52 in the battle between Social Democracy and Communism, and Doremus often dropped in to stir them up. That was hard for Tasbrough, Staubmeyer, Banker Crowley, and Lawyer Kitterick to bear.
If Doremus had not come from three generations of debt-paying Vermonters, he would by now have been a penniless wandering printer . . . and possibly less detached about the Sorrows of the Dispossessed.
The conservative Emma complained: “How you can tease people this way, pretending you really LIKE greasy 53 mechanics like this Pascal (and I suspect you even have a sneaking 54 fondness for Shad Ledue!) when you could just associate with decent, prosperous people like Frank — it’s beyond me! What they must THINK of you, sometimes! They don’t understand that you’re really not a Socialist one bit, but really a nice, kind-hearted, responsible man. Oh, I ought to smack 55 you, Dormouse!”
Not that he liked being called “Dormouse.” But then, no one did so except Emma and, in rare slips of the tongue, Buck 56 Titus. So it was endurable.
n.无政府主义者
- You must be an anarchist at heart.你在心底肯定是个无政府主义者。
- I did my best to comfort them and assure them I was not an anarchist.我尽量安抚他们并让它们明白我并不是一个无政府主义者。
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低
- In my humble opinion,he will win the election.依我拙见,他将在选举中获胜。
- Defeat and failure make people humble.挫折与失败会使人谦卑。
n.豪华轿车( limousine的名词复数 );(往返机场接送旅客的)中型客车,小型公共汽车
- Elearor hated to use White House limousines because she didn't want people spying on her. 埃莉诺很不愿意使用白宫的小轿车,因为她不愿让人暗中监视她。 来自辞典例句
- Maybe they are seeking for spacious houses and limousines. 也许在追求阔宅豪车。 来自互联网
n.社会主义者;adj.社会主义的
- China is a socialist country,and a developing country as well.中国是一个社会主义国家,也是一个发展中国家。
- His father was an ardent socialist.他父亲是一个热情的社会主义者。
vi.大幅度削减;vt.猛砍,尖锐抨击,大幅减少;n.猛砍,斜线,长切口,衣衩
- The shop plans to slash fur prices after Spring Festival.该店计划在春节之后把皮货降价。
- Don't slash your horse in that cruel way.不要那样残忍地鞭打你的马。
adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的,不坚定的
- Fluctuating prices usually base on a fickle public's demand.物价的波动往往是由于群众需求的不稳定而引起的。
- The weather is so fickle in summer.夏日的天气如此多变。
n.肺炎
- Cage was struck with pneumonia in her youth.凯奇年轻时得过肺炎。
- Pneumonia carried him off last week.肺炎上星期夺去了他的生命。
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的
- The paintings were concealed beneath a thick layer of plaster. 那些画被隐藏在厚厚的灰泥层下面。
- I think he had a gun concealed about his person. 我认为他当时身上藏有一支枪。
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱
- There is some deposit in the bottom of the flask.这只烧杯的底部有些沉淀物。
- He took out a metal flask from a canvas bag.他从帆布包里拿出一个金属瓶子。
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式)
- It was quiet. All the other inhabitants of the slums were slumbering. 贫民窟里的人已经睡眠静了。
- Then soft music filled the air and soothed the slumbering heroes. 接着,空中响起了柔和的乐声,抚慰着安睡的英雄。
n.织布机,织机;v.隐现,(危险、忧虑等)迫近
- The old woman was weaving on her loom.那位老太太正在织布机上织布。
- The shuttle flies back and forth on the loom.织布机上梭子来回飞动。
n.颤搐
- The child in a spasm kept twitching his arms and legs. 那个害痉挛的孩子四肢不断地抽搐。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
- My eyelids keep twitching all the time. 我眼皮老是跳。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
n.检查员,监察员,视察员
- The inspector was interested in everything pertaining to the school.视察员对有关学校的一切都感兴趣。
- The inspector was shining a flashlight onto the tickets.查票员打着手电筒查看车票。
v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 );偷偷溜走;(儿童向成人)打小报告;告状
- I sneaked up the stairs. 我蹑手蹑脚地上了楼。
- She sneaked a surreptitious glance at her watch. 她偷偷看了一眼手表。
欺骗( deception的名词复数 ); 骗术,诡计
- Nobody saw through Mary's deceptions. 无人看透玛丽的诡计。
- There was for him only one trustworthy road through deceptions and mirages. 对他来说只有一条可靠的路能避开幻想和错觉。
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的
- He devoted his life to the educational cause of the motherland.他为祖国的教育事业贡献了一生。
- We devoted a lengthy and full discussion to this topic.我们对这个题目进行了长时间的充分讨论。
adv. 兴奋地
- Feverishly he collected his data. 他拼命收集资料。
- The company is having to cast around feverishly for ways to cut its costs. 公司迫切须要想出各种降低成本的办法。
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解
- We shall gladly lend every effort in our power toward its realization.我们将乐意为它的实现而竭尽全力。
- He came to the realization that he would never make a good teacher.他逐渐认识到自己永远不会成为好老师。
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的
- Mrs. Warner is already 96 and too frail to live by herself.华纳太太已经九十六岁了,身体虚弱,不便独居。
- She lay in bed looking particularly frail.她躺在床上,看上去特别虚弱。
adj.急躁的;过敏的;易怒的
- He gets irritable when he's got toothache.他牙一疼就很容易发脾气。
- Our teacher is an irritable old lady.She gets angry easily.我们的老师是位脾气急躁的老太太。她很容易生气。
n.主教,(国际象棋)象
- He was a bishop who was held in reverence by all.他是一位被大家都尊敬的主教。
- Two years after his death the bishop was canonised.主教逝世两年后被正式封为圣者。
adv.神情激动地,不安地
- He bit his lip nervously,trying not to cry.他紧张地咬着唇,努力忍着不哭出来。
- He paced nervously up and down on the platform.他在站台上情绪不安地走来走去。
v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 );用粗的声音说
- the croaking of frogs 蛙鸣
- I could hear croaking of the frogs. 我能听到青蛙呱呱的叫声。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.遗嘱;证明
- This is his last will and testament.这是他的遗愿和遗嘱。
- It is a testament to the power of political mythology.这说明,编造政治神话可以产生多大的威力。
v.推搡;竭力兜售或获取;催促;n.奔忙(碌)
- It seems that he enjoys the hustle and bustle of life in the big city.看起来他似乎很喜欢大城市的热闹繁忙的生活。
- I had to hustle through the crowded street.我不得不挤过拥挤的街道。
焦躁的,附有弦马的,腐蚀的
- The wind whistled through the twigs and fretted the occasional, dirty-looking crocuses. 寒风穿过枯枝,有时把发脏的藏红花吹刮跑了。 来自英汉文学
- The lady's fame for hitting the mark fretted him. 这位太太看问题深刻的名声在折磨着他。
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的
- The patient got a radical cure in the hospital.病人在医院得到了根治。
- She is radical in her demands.她的要求十分偏激。
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的
- She's a sentimental woman who believes marriage comes by destiny.她是多愁善感的人,她相信姻缘命中注定。
- We were deeply touched by the sentimental movie.我们深深被那感伤的电影所感动。
n.浮华;虚夸;炫耀;自负
- He hated pomposity and disliked being called a genius. 他憎恶自负的作派,而且不喜欢被称为天才。 来自辞典例句
- Nothing could deflate his ego/pomposity, ie make him less self-assured or pompous. 任何事都不能削弱他的自信心[气焰]。 来自辞典例句
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的
- He was so eloquent that he cut down the finest orator.他能言善辩,胜过最好的演说家。
- These ruins are an eloquent reminder of the horrors of war.这些废墟形象地提醒人们不要忘记战争的恐怖。
n.谦逊,谦恭
- Humility often gains more than pride.谦逊往往比骄傲收益更多。
- His voice was still soft and filled with specious humility.他的声音还是那么温和,甚至有点谦卑。
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过
- That is a mere repetition of what you said before.那不过是重复了你以前讲的话。
- It's a mere waste of time waiting any longer.再等下去纯粹是浪费时间。
adj.易怒的;暴躁的
- Ben's getting a little testy in his old age.上了年纪后本变得有点性急了。
- A doctor was called in to see a rather testy aristocrat.一个性格相当暴躁的贵族召来了一位医生为他检查。
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨
- He looked at me with hatred in his eyes.他以憎恨的眼光望着我。
- The old man was seized with burning hatred for the fascists.老人对法西斯主义者充满了仇恨。
n.无罪;天真;无害
- There was a touching air of innocence about the boy.这个男孩有一种令人感动的天真神情。
- The accused man proved his innocence of the crime.被告人经证实无罪。
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责
- She tried to cover up her guilt by lying.她企图用谎言掩饰自己的罪行。
- Don't lay a guilt trip on your child about schoolwork.别因为功课责备孩子而使他觉得很内疚。
v.(通常因道义上的原因而)谴责( condemn的现在分词 );宣判;宣布…不能使用;迫使…陷于不幸的境地
- The government issued a statement condemning the killings. 政府发表声明谴责这些凶杀事件。
- I concur with the speaker in condemning what has been done. 我同意发言者对所做的事加以谴责。 来自《现代英汉综合大词典》
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子
- He's accusing them of having a bourgeois and limited vision.他指责他们像中产阶级一样目光狭隘。
- The French Revolution was inspired by the bourgeois.法国革命受到中产阶级的鼓励。
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事
- The wealth comes from the toil of the masses.财富来自大众的辛勤劳动。
- Every single grain is the result of toil.每一粒粮食都来之不易。
adj.矫饰的,浮华的
- He wore a foppish hat,making him easy to find.他戴着一顶流里流气的帽子使他很容易被发现。
- He stood out because he wore a foppish clothes.他很引人注目,因为他穿著一件流里流气的衣服。
adj.简陋的小屋,窝棚
- He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.在走到他的茅棚以前,他不得不坐在地上歇了五次。
- The boys made a shack out of the old boards in the backyard.男孩们在后院用旧木板盖起一间小木屋。
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 )
- She chuckled at the memory. 想起这件事她就暗自发笑。
- She chuckled softly to herself as she remembered his astonished look. 想起他那惊讶的表情,她就轻轻地暗自发笑。
adj.极端拘谨的;道德严格的
- He has a puritanical attitude towards sex.他在性问题上主张克制,反对纵欲。
- Puritanical grandfather is very strict with his children.古板严厉的祖父对子女要求非常严格。
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的
- They were killed,to the last man,in a futile attack.因为进攻失败,他们全部被杀,无一幸免。
- Their efforts to revive him were futile.他们对他抢救无效。
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找
- Michelangelo obtained his marble from a quarry.米开朗基罗从采石场获得他的大理石。
- This mountain was the site for a quarry.这座山曾经有一个采石场。
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长
- He was soon promoted to the post of superintendent of Foreign Trade.他很快就被擢升为对外贸易总监。
- He decided to call the superintendent of the building.他决定给楼房管理员打电话。
v.辱骂,痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 )
- The tramp reviled the man who drove him off. 流浪汉辱骂那位赶他走开的人。 来自《现代英汉综合大词典》
- The old man reviled against corruption. 那老人痛斥了贪污舞弊。 来自《简明英汉词典》
adj.公开声明的,承认的v.公开声明,承认( avow的过去式和过去分词)
- An aide avowed that the President had known nothing of the deals. 一位助理声明,总统对这些交易一无所知。
- The party's avowed aim was to struggle against capitalist exploitation. 该党公开宣称的宗旨是与资本主义剥削斗争。 来自《简明英汉词典》
adj.多嘴的,饶舌的
- The normally loquacious Mr O'Reilly has said little.平常话多的奥赖利先生几乎没说什么。
- Kennedy had become almost as loquacious as Joe.肯尼迪变得和乔一样唠叨了。
adj.好战的,挑起战争的;n.交战国,交战者
- He had a belligerent aspect.他有种好斗的神色。
- Our government has forbidden exporting the petroleum to the belligerent countries.我们政府已经禁止向交战国输出石油。
深沟,地沟( trench的名词复数 ); 战壕
- life in the trenches 第一次世界大战期间的战壕生活
- The troops stormed the enemy's trenches and fanned out across the fields. 部队猛攻敌人的战壕,并在田野上呈扇形散开。
adj. 多脂的,油脂的
- He bought a heavy-duty cleanser to clean his greasy oven.昨天他买了强力清洁剂来清洗油污的炉子。
- You loathe the smell of greasy food when you are seasick.当你晕船时,你会厌恶油腻的气味。
a.秘密的,不公开的
- She had always had a sneaking affection for him. 以前她一直暗暗倾心于他。
- She ducked the interviewers by sneaking out the back door. 她从后门偷偷溜走,躲开采访者。
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍
- She gave him a smack on the face.她打了他一个嘴巴。
- I gave the fly a smack with the magazine.我用杂志拍了一下苍蝇。