问答题Please give a brief account of the relevance theory.

问答题For the next eight or ten months, Oliver was the victim of a systematic course of treachery and deception. He was brought up by hand. The hungry and destitute situation of the infant orphan was duly reported by the workhouse authorities to the parish authorities. The parish authorities inquired with dignity of the workhouse authorities, whether there was no female then domiciled in " the house" who was in a situation to impart to Oliver Twist, the consolation and nourishment of which he stood in need. The workhouse authorities replied with humility, that there was not. Upon this, the parish authorities magnanimously and humanely resolved, that Oliver should be "farmed" or, in other words, that he should be dispatched to a branch-workhouse some three miles off, where twenty or thirty other juvenile offenders against the poor-laws, rolled about the floor all day, without the inconvenience of too much food or too much clothing, under the parental superintendence of an elderly female, who received the culprits at and for the consideration of sevenpence-halfpenny per small head per week. Sevenpence-halfpenny"s worth per week is a good round diet for a child; a great deal may be got for sevenpence-halfpenny, quite enough to overload its stomach, and make it uncomfortable. The elderly female was a woman of wisdom and experience; she knew what was food for children; and she had a very accurate perception of what was good for herself. So, she appropriated the greater part of the weekly stipend to her own use, and consigned the rising parochial generation to even a shorter allowance than was originally provided for them. Thereby finding in the lowest depth a deeper still; and proving herself a very great experimental philosopher.

问答题Why do we say linguistics is a science? (北外2011研)

问答题For each of the following pairs of sentences, discuss how the two sentences are different from each other. (南京大学2006研)(1) A. His carelessness I can't bear.B. I can't bear his carelessness. (2) A. A dagger killed the tourist. B. The tourist was killed with a dagger. (3) A. A hurricane killed eight people. B. Eight people died in a hurricane.

问答题The Apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.

问答题The English sentences given below are ungrammatical. You are required to give the syntactic explanation to the ungrammatically in each of the sentences. (1)* Jack put his ball.(2)* I wonder Michael walked the dog.(3)* Frank thinks himself is a superstar.

问答题Ottava rima

问答题tenor of discourse

问答题Please list some differences between Langue and Parole.

问答题The School for Scandal

问答题amusing

问答题culture overlap

问答题Describe with tree diagrams the transformations involved in forming the question "Does John like the book?"（南开大学2007研)

问答题Figure out the structure of the following sentences and give a description of this phenomenon. The horse raced past the barn fell.The florist sent the flowers was pleased.The cotton clothing is made from grows in Mississippi.They told the boy that the girl met the story.

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What is linguistic determinism? (北航2008研)

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Lord of Flies

问答题It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray, and see if I couldn"t try to quit being the kind of a boy I was and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words wouldn"t come. Why wouldn"t they? It warn"t no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from ME, neither. I knowed very well why they wouldn"t come. It was because my heart warn"t right; it was because I warn"t square; it was because I was playing double. I was letting ON to give up sin, but away inside of me I was holding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth SAY I would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to that nigger"s owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie, and He knowed it. You can"t pray a lie—I found that out.So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn"t know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I"ll go and write the letter—and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote;Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send.HUCK FINN.I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn"t do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking—thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time; in the day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we afloating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn"t seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I"d see him standing my watch on top of his"n, " stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the ONLY one he"s got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I"d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself;"All right, then, I"ll GO to hell" —and tore it tip.

问答题What is your understanding of Systemic Functional Grammar?