问答题The Enormous RadioJim and Irene Westcott were the kind of people who seem to strike that satisfactory average of income, endeavor, and respectability that is reached by the statistical reports in college alumni bulletins. They were the parents of two young children, they had been married nine years, they lived on the twelfth floor of an apartmenthouse near Sutton Place, they went to the theater on an average of 10.3 times a year, and they hoped someday to live Westchester. Irene Westcott was a pleasant, rather plain girl with soft brown hair, and a wide, fine forehead upon which nothing at all had been written, and in the cold weather she wore a coat of fitch skins dyed to resemble mink. You could not say that Jim Westcott looked younger than he was, but you could at least say of him that he seemed to feel younger. He wore his graying hair cut very short, he dressed in the kind of clothes his class had worn at Andover, and his manner was earnest, vehement, and intentionally naive. The Westcotts differed from their friends, their classmates, and their neighbors, only in an interest they shared in serious music. They went to a great many concerts—although they seldom mentioned this to anyone— and they spent a good deal of time listening to music on the radio.Their radio was an old instrument, sensitive, unpredictable, and beyond repair. He promised to buy flrene a new radio, and on Monday when he came home from work he told her that he had got one. He refused to describe it, and said it would be a surprise for her when it came.The radio was delivered at the kitchen door the following afternoon, and with the assistance of her maid and the handyman Irene uncrated it and brought it into the living room. She was struck at once with the physical ugliness of the large gumwood cabinet. Irene was proud of her living room, she had chosen its furnishings and colors as carefully as she chose her clothes, and now it seemed to her that her new radio stood among her intimate possessions like an aggressive intruder. She was confounded by the number of dials and switches on the instrument panel, and she studied them thoroughly before she put the plug into a wall socket and turned the radio on. The deals flooded with a malevolent green light, and in the distance she heard the music of a piano quintet. The quintet was in the distance for only an instant; it bore down upon her with a speed greater than light and filled the apartment with the noise of music amplified so mightily that it knocked a china ornament from a table to the floor. She rushed to the instrument and reduced the volume. The violent forces that were snared in the ugly gumwood cabinet made her uneasy. Her children came home from school then, and she took them to the park. It was not until later in the afternoon that she was able to return to the radio.The maid had given the children their suppers and was supervising their baths when Irene turned on the radio, reduced the volume, and sat down to listen to a Mozart quintet that she knew and enjoyed. The music came through clearly. The new instrument had a much purer tone, she thought, than the old one. She decided that tone was most important and that she could conceal the cabinet behind the sofa. But as soon as she had made her peace with the radio, the interference began. A crackling sound like the noise of a burning powder fuse began to accompany the singing of the strings. Beyond the music, there was a rustling that reminded Irene unpleasantly of the sea, and as the quintet progressed, these noises were joined by many others. She tried all the dials and switches but nothing dimmed the interference, and she sat down, disappointed and bewildered, and tried to trace the flight of the melody. The elevator shaft in her building ran beside the living-room wall, and it was the noise of the elevator that gave her a clue to the character of the static. The rattling of the elevator cables and the opening and closing of the elevator doors, were reproduced in her loudspeaker, and, realizing that the radio was sensitive to electrical currents of all sorts, she began to discern through the Mozart the ringing of telephone bells, the dialing of phones, and the lamentation of a vacuum cleaner. By listening more carefully, she was able to distinguish doorbells, elevator bells, electric razors, and Waring mixers, whose sounds had been picked up from the apartments that surrounded hers and transmitted through her loudspeaker. The powerful and ugly instrument, with its mistaken sensibility to discord, was more than she could hope to master, so she turned the thing off and went into the nursery to see her children.When Jim came home that night, he was tired, and he took a bath and changed his clothes. Then he joined Irene in the living room. He had just turned on the radio when the maid announced dinner, so he left it on, and Irene went to the table.Jim was too tired to make even pretense of sociability, and there was nothing about the dinner to hold Irene"s interest, so her attention wandered from the food to the deposits of silver polish on the candlesticks and from there to the music in the other room. She listened for a few minutes to a Chopin prelude and then was surprised to hear a man"s voice break in. " For Christ"s sake, Kathy," he said, "do you always have to play the piano when I get home?" The music stopped abruptly. "It"s the only chance I have," the woman said. " So am I," the man said. He added something obscene about an upright piano, and slammed a door. The passionate and melancholy music began again."Did you hear that?" Irene asked."What?" Jim was eating his dessert."The radio. A man said something while the music was still going on-something dirty. ""It"s probably a play. ""I don"t think it is a play," Irene said.They left the table and took their coffee into the living room. Irene asked Jim to try another station. He turned the knob. "Have you seen my garters?" A man asked. "Button me up," a woman said. "Have you seen my garters?" the man said again. "Just button me up and I"ll find your garters," the woman said. Jim shifted to another station. " I wish you wouldn"t leave apple cores in the ashtrays," a man said. " I hate the smell. ""This is strange," Jim said."Isn"t it?" Irene said.Jim turned the knob again. "On the coast of Coromandel where the early pumpkins blow," a woman with a pronounced English accent said, " in the middle of the woods lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Two old chairs, and half a candle, one old jug without a handle...""My God!" Irene cried. "That"s the Sweeneys" nurse. ""These were all his worldly goods, " the British voice continued."Turn that thing off," Irene said. "Maybe they can hear us. " Jim switched the radio off. "That was Miss Armstrong, the Sweeneys" nurse," Irene said. " She must be reading to the little girl. They live in 17-B. I"ve talked with Miss Armstrong in the park. I know her voice very well. We must be getting other people"s apartments. ""That"s impossible," Jim said."Well, that was the Sweeneys" nurse," Irene said hotly. "I know her voice. I know it very well. I"m wondering if they can hear us. "Jim turned the switch. First from a distance and then nearer, nearer, as if borne on the wind, came the pure accents of the Sweeneys" nurse again: " Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!" she said, " sitting where the pumpkins blow, will you come and be my wife, said the Yonggy-Bonggy-Bo..."Jim went over to the radio and said " Hello" loudly into the speaker."I am tired of living singly, " the nurse went on, "on this coast so wild and shingly, I"m a-weary of my life; if you"ll come and be my wife, quite serene would be my life...""I guess she can"t hear us," Irene said. "Try something else. "Jim turned to another station, and the living room was filled with the uproar of a cocktail party that had overshot its mark. Someone was playing the piano and singing the " Whiffenpoof Song," and the voices that surrounded the piano were vehement and happy. " Eat some more sandwiches," a woman shrieked. There were screams of laughter and a dish of some sort crashed to the floor."Those must be the Fullers, in 11-E," Irene said. "I knew they were giving a party this afternoon. I saw her in the liquor store. Isn"t this too divine? Try something else. See if you can get those people in 18-C. "The Westcotts overheard that evening a monologue on salmon fishing in Canada, a bridge game, running comments on home movies of what had apparently been a fortnight at Sea Island, and a bitter family quarrel about an overdraft at the bank. They turned off their radio at midnight and went to bed, weak with laughter.The following morning, Irene cooked breakfast for the family—the maid didn"t come up from her room in the basement until—she braided her daughter"s hair, and waited at the door until her children and her husband had been carried away in the elevator. Then she went into living room and tried the radio. "I don"t want to go to school," a child screamed. "I hate school. I won"t go to school. I hate school. " "You will go to school," an enraged woman said. "We paid eight hundred dollars to get you into that school and you"ll go if it kills you. " The next number on the dial produced the worn record of the " Missouri Waltz. " Irene shifted the control and invaded the privacy of several breakfast tables. She overheard demonstrations of indigestion, carnal love, abysmal vanity, faith, and despair. Irene"s life was nearly as simple and sheltered as it appeared to be, and the forthright and sometimes brutal language that came from the loudspeaker that morning astonished and troubled her. She continued to listen until her maid came in. Then she turned off the radio quickly, since this insight, she realized, was a furtive one.Irene had a luncheon date with a friend that day, and she left her apartment a little after twelve.Irene had two Martinis at lunch, and she looked searchingly at her friend and wondered what her secrets were. They had intended to go shopping after lunch, but Irene excused herself and went home. She told the maid that she was not to be disturbed; then she went into the living room, closed the doors, and switched on the radio. She heard, in the course of the afternoon, the halting conversation of a woman entertaining her aunt, the hysterical conclusion of a luncheon party, and hostess briefing her maid about some cocktail guests. " Don"t give the best Scotch to anyone who hasn"t white hair, "the hostess said. "See if you can get rid of the liver paste before you pass those hot things, and could you lend me five dollars? I want to tip the elevator man. "As the afternoon waned, the conversations increased in intensity. From where Irene sat, she could see the open sky above the East River. There were hundreds of clouds in the sky, as though the south wind had broken the winter into pieces and were blowing it north, and on her radio she could hear the arrival of cocktail guests and the return of children and businessmen from their schools and offices. "I found a good-sized diamond on the bathroom floor this morning," a woman said. "It must have fallen out of the bracelet Mrs. Dunston was wearing last night. " "We"ll sell it," a man said. "Take it down to the jeweler on Madison Avenue and sell it. Mrs. Dunston won"t know the difference, and we could use a couple of hundred bucks..." "Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement"s" the Sweeneys" nurse sang. "Half-pence and farthings, say the bells of St. Martin"s. When will you pay me? Say the bells at old Bailey..." "It"s not a hat," a woman cried, and at her back roared a cocktail party. "It"s not a hat, it"s a love affair. That"s what Walter Florell said. He said it"s not a hat, it"s a love affair," and then, in a lower voice, the same woman added, "Talk to somebody, for Christ"s sake, honey, talk to somebody. If she catches you standing here not talking to anybody, she"ll take us off her invitation list, and I love these parties. "Jim came home at about six the next night. Emma, the maid, let him in, and he had taken off his hat and was taking off his coat when Irene ran into the hall. Her face was shining with tears and her hair was disordered. "Go up to 16-C, Jim!" she screamed. "Don"t take off your coat. Go up to 16-C. Mr. Osborn"s beating his wife. They"ve been quarreling since four o"clock, and now he is hitting her. Go up there and stop him. "From the radio in the living room, Jim heard screams, obscenities, and thuds. "You know you don"t have to listen to this sort of thing," he said. He strode into the living room and turned the switch. "It"s indecent," he said. "It"s like looking into windows. Yow know you don"t have to listen to this sort of thing. You can turn it off." Oh, it"s so terrible, it"s so dreadful, " Irene was sobbing. I"ve been listening all day, and it"s so depressing."Well, if it"s so depressing, why do you listen to it? I brought this dammed radio to give you some pleasure," he said. "I paid a great deal of money for it. I thought it might make you happy. I wanted to make you happy. ""Don"t, don"t, don"t, don"t quarrel with me," she moaned, and laid her head on his shoulder. "All the others have been quarreling all day. Everybody"s been quarreling. They"re all worried about money. Mrs. Hutchinson"s mother is dying of cancer in Florida and don"t have enough money to send her to the Mayo Clinic. At least, Mr. Hutchinson says they don"t have enough money. And some woman in this building is having an affair with the handyman—with that hideous handyman. It"s too disgusting. And Mrs. Melville has heart trouble, and Mr. Hendricks is going to lose his job in April and Mrs. Hendricks is horrid aboutthe whole thing and that girl that plays the "Missouri Waltz" is a whore, a common whore, and the elevator man has tuberculosis and Mr. Osborn has been beating his wife. " She wailed, she trembled with grief and checked the stream of tears down her face with the heel of her palm."Well why do you have to listen?" Jim asked again. "Why do you have to listen to this stuff if it makes you miserable?""Oh, don"t, don"t, don"t" she cried. "Life is too terrible, too sordid and awful. But we"ve never been like that, have we, darling? Have we? I mean, we"ve always been good and decent and loving to one another, haven"t we? And we have two children, two beautiful children. Our lives aren"t sordid, are they, darling? Are they?" She flung her arms around his neck and drew his face down to hers. "We"re happy, aren"t we, darling? We are happy, aren"t we?"" Of course we"re happy," he said tiredly. He began to surrender his resentment. " Of course we are happy. I"ll have that dammed radio fixed or taken away tomorrow. " He stroked her soft hair. "My poor girl, " he said."You love me, don"t you? "She asked. "And we"re not hypercritical or worried about money or dishonesty, are we?""No, darling," he said.A man came in the morning and fixed the radio. Irene turned it on cautiously and was happy to hear a California-wine commercial and a recording of Beethoven"s Ninth Symphony, including Schiller"s "Ode to Joy. " She kept the radio on all day and nothing untoward came toward the speaker.A Spanish suite was being played when Jim came home. "Is everything all right?" he asked. His face was pale, she thought. They had some cocktails and went to dinner to the "Anvil Chorus" from 77 Trovatore. This was followed by Debusy"s "La Mer. ""I paid the bill for the radio today," Jim said. "It cost four hundred dollars. I hope you"ll get some enjoyment out of it. "" Oh, I"m sure I will," Irene said."Four hundred dollars is a good deal more than I can afford," he went on. "I wanted to get something that you"d enjoy. It"s the last extravagance we"ll indulge in this year. I see that you haven"t paid your clothing bills yet. I saw them on your dressing table. " He looked directly at her. "Why did you tell me you"d paid them? Why did you lie to me?"I just didn"t want you to worry, Jim," she said. She drank some water. "I"ll be able to pay my bills out of this month"s allowance. There were the slipcovers last month, and that party. "" You"ve got to learn to handle the money I give you a little more intelligently, Irene," he said. "You"ve got to understand that we don"t have as much money this year as we had last. I had a very sobering talk with Mitchell today. No one is buying anything. We"re spending all of our time promoting new issues, and you know how long that takes. I"m. not getting any younger you know. I"m thirty-seven. My hair will be gray next year. I haven"t done as well as I hoped to do. And I don"t suppose things will get any better. ""Yes, dear," she said."We"ve got to start cutting down," Jim said. "We"ve got to think of the children. To be perfectly frank with you, I worry about money a great deal. I"m not at all sure of the future. No one is. If anything should happen to me, there"s the insurance, but that won"t go very far today. I"ve worked awfully hard to give you and the children a comfortable life," he said bitterly. "I don"t like to see all of my energies, all of my youth, wasted in fur coast and radios and slipcovers and—""Please Jim," she said. "Please. They"ll hear us. ""Who"ll hear us? Emma can"t hear us. ""The Radio. ""Oh, I"m sick! "He shouted. " I"m sick to death of your apprehensiveness. The radio can"t hear us. Nobody can hear us. And what if they can hear us? Who cares?"Irene got up from the table and went into the living room. Jim went to the door and shouted at her from there. "Why are you so Christly all of a sudden? What"s turned you overnight into a convent girl? You stole your mother"s jewelry before they probated her will. You never gave your sister a cent of that money that was intended for her—not even when she needed it. You made Grace Howland"s life miserable, and where was all your piety and your virtue when you went to that abortionist? I"ll never forget how cool you were. You packed your bag and went off to have that child murdered as if you were going to Nassau. If you"d had any reasons, if you"d had any good reasons—"Irene stood for a minute before the hideous cabinet, disgraced and sickened, but she held her hand on the switch before she extinguished the music and the voices, hoping the instrument might speak to her kindly, that she might hear the Sweeney"s nurse. Jim continued to shout at her from the door. The voice on the radio was suave and noncommittal. " An early morning railroad disaster in Tokyo," the loudspeaker said, "killed twenty-nine people. A fire in a Catholic hospital near Buffalo for the care of blind children was extinguished early this morning by nuns. The temperature is forty-seven. The humidity is eighty-nine. "

问答题{{B}}Outline:{{/B}} 1. Look your best. 2. Monitor your body language. 3. Say what you mean.

问答题CEO

问答题What is linguistic determinism? (北航2008研)

问答题他使劲关窗户，把玻璃都震碎了。

问答题“十二五”是全面建设U小康社会/U的关键时期，是深化改革开放、加快转变经济发展方式的攻坚时期。

问答题consumer goods

问答题"Parents Are Not Really the Best Teachers in One"s Life."

问答题Write a notice in about 100 words to inform the students and English teachers of a lecture on Australian studies. The letter should at least contain the information as follows: 1. the time, address and content of the lecture. 2. the scope of students to participate. 3. the subject and background of the lecture.

问答题Read the poem by Emily Dickinson. Write a short essay of 100 words to show your understanding of it.(12 points)To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee One clover, and a bee, And revery.The revery alone will do,If bees are few.(clover :三叶草;苜蓿 revery :幻想)

问答题1)describethedrawing2)interpretthemeaningofit3)supportyourviewwithexamplesYourcompositionshouldbemorethan150words.

问答题Directions: In this part, you are required to write a composition of 120 to 150 words(非英语专业学生)or 150 to 180 words(英语专业学生). You should base your composition on the title and outline given below. The Harm of Computer Games 1．很多学生迷恋电脑游戏； 2．电脑游戏的危害； 3．你的观点。

问答题geoastrophysics

问答题Lord of Flies

问答题You should write about 100 words on ANSWER SHEET 2. Do not sign your own name at the end of the letter. Use "Wang Ling" instead. You do not need to write the address. ( 10 points)

问答题{{B}}Directions:{{/B}} Read the following passage carefully and then translate each underlined part into Chinese. 21. {{U}}The greatest achievement of humankind in its long evolution from ancient hominoid ancestors to its present status is the acquisition and accumulation of a vast body of knowledge about itself, the world, and the universe. The products of this knowledge are all those things that, in the aggregate, we call "civilization", including language, science, literature, art, all the physical mechanisms, instruments, and structures we use, and the physical infrastructures on which society relies.{{/U}} 22. {{U}}Most of us assume that in modern society knowledge of all kinds is continually increasing and the aggregation of new information into the corpus of our social or collective knowledge is steadily reducing the area of ignorance about ourselves, the world, and the universe. But continuing reminders of the numerous areas of our present ignorance invite a critical analysis of this assumption.{{/U}} In the popular view, intellectual evolution is similar to, although much more rapid than, somatic evolution. Biological evolution is often described by the statement that "ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny"--meaning that the individual embryo, in its development from a fertilized ovum into a human baby, passes through successive stages in which it resembles ancestral forms of the human species. The popular view is that humankind has progressed from a state of innocent ignorance, comparable to that of an infant, and gradually has acquired more and more knowledge, much as a child learns in passing through the several grades of the educational system. 23. {{U}}Implicit in this view is an assumption that phylogeny resembles ontogeny, so that there will ultimately be a stage in which the accumulation of knowledge is essentially complete, at least in specific fields, as if society had graduated with all the advanced degrees that signify mastery of important subjects.{{/U}} Such views have, in fact, been expressed by some eminent scientists. In 1894 the great American physicist Albert Michelson said in a talk at the University of Chicago: 24. {{U}}While it is never safe to affirm that the future of Physical Science has no marvels in store even more astonishing than those of the past, it seems probable that most of the grand underlying principles have been firmly established and that further advances are to be sought chiefly in the rigorous application of these principles to all the phenomena which come under our notice The future truths of Physical Science are to be looked for in the sixth place of decimals.{{/U}}

问答题carbon footprint

问答题United Nations Security Council

问答题{{B}}话说“真话”{{/B}} 这些年来，“要敢讲真话”叫得很响，在弄文墨者的圈子里，是人人皆知的。我偶尔写点杂感，也觉得这话很好，不说真话，就没有正义的呼声，要敢讲真话，这是没有疑义的。不过，生活告诉人们，还没有哪一位作家、演说家，不标榜他讲的是真话。那么，我们周围真的都是一片真话吗?显然还不是。张三说他讲的是真话，李四却在摇头；王五指责赵六讲的不是真话，赵六一定要驳斥王五。孰是孰非，较真起来，问题就复杂了。辨别真话，倘若在大家认同的标准下，认识不难统一，现在之所以有那些是是非非，讲不清，道不白，说明人们还不认为有辨别真话的标准，或者标准还不一致。 从实际情况看，辨别真话还是有标准的。目前，我看至少有两个。 一个是心里怎么想，口头怎么说，就叫真话。口以心为标准，讲与想相呼应，二者一致为真，不一致为假。从这种意义上说，所谓敢讲真话，只在于敢讲，即把心里想的，都大胆讲出来，敢讲的，都是真话。 一个是，说的符合实际，不夸大，不缩小，没有片面性，就叫讲真话。口以事实为标准，讲与实际相统一，二者一致为真话，不仅在于敢讲，还在于求真。 两种标准，实际上是从两种不同的意义上，或者说两种不同层次上来谈论“真话”的。但由此也便产生了倡言“讲真话”时的歧义。认定前一种标准的人说，我心里这么想，口里就这么说，言为心声，难道不叫讲真话吗?坚持后一种标准的人说，如果不管符合不符合实际，只要把心里想的都说出来，就叫真话，那么夸夸其谈者的捕风捉影，哗众取宠者的镜花水月，造谣者的飞短流长，觅怪撒谎的无稽谬言，岂不都可以叫做真话?那样提倡讲真话，鱼龙混杂，良莠不齐，能有什么意义。由此看来，如何评价“讲真话”，确实有深入讨论的必要。 比如，有篇文章说，中国历史上没有什么爱国主义，屈原不过是对主子效愚忠，所谓爱国，是后人按自己的需要贴上去的。你读了这样的文章，将怎样认定作者是不是讲真话呢?只按“口与心”的标准，完全可以回答，作者是讲真话，因为他不承认爱国主义是中华民族的传统，心里那么想，口里那么说，二者是一致的。但是，许许多多的中国人，会赞同这样的真话吗?屈原爱国，情深意笃，有他的诗篇在。谁想推翻它，总得拿出新的材料来，还得让人信服。这 不是凭着敢想敢说，就能算得了数的。又比如，有篇文章，拿雷锋的话当靶子，讥讽“我把党来比母亲”，诘问：人民是母亲，党怎么可能是母亲?又有人说，雷锋是悲剧人物，他的个性全被扼杀了，说的不是自己的话。那么，是雷锋讲真话，还是否定他的人讲真话?我想，绝大多数人不会认为雷锋在讲假话吧。雷锋在这里讲的，是他与共产党的关系，共产党救了他，他觉得共产党像母亲，既言为心声，又符合实际。至于人民是母亲，那比喻属于另一范畴，另有含义。偷换概念，讥讽雷锋，只能让正直的人反感，怎能纵容他们以标榜“讲真话”来蛊惑舆论呢?如果纵容他们，那就应了《红楼梦》中的一句话，“假作真时真亦假”，世上也就无是非可言了。 看来，我们不能只停留在提倡“口心一致”的“真话”上，还要进一步提倡实事求是的“真话”。言为心声，当然也算是一种真，即口头讲的，真是心里想的，但这种真，却不表示话的本身是否真理。真话虽然不见得都是真理，但总是越接近真理越真。人们还记得，关于什么是真理的标准，曾有过一场激烈的争论，绝大多数人最终统一了认识，承认实践是检验真理的唯一标准。 当然，提倡追求真理的“真话”，并不否认讲心里话。同志之间，朋友之间，包括对待上下级，都应该敞开思想，有话就说，不必顾忌。但是写文章，做演说，搞创作，情况有所不同，都是用自己的话，去宣传人，影响社会，这就要顾及讲话的效果。如果认为，只要是心里想的，口里就要讲，而不管这些话符合不符合实际，那就不妥当了。