单选题Men differ from animals ______ they can think and speak.

单选题Catherine's mother was ______ ill last summer, but fortunately, she was making a slow but steady recovery after an operation was done on her hung.

单选题We were struck by the extent ______ which teachers' decisions served the interests of the school rather than those of the students.

单选题She______all criticism and went on with her project.

单选题His remarks were ______ annoy everybody at the meeting. A. so as to B. such as to C. such to D. as much as to

单选题The new edition of the encyclopedia ______ many improvements, which is the result of the persistent efforts of all the compilers.

单选题When______to dough and heated, carbon dioxide is released, causing the dough to rise.

单选题A ______ examination is one which is in preparation for something.

单选题Now the summer is here with more visitors, so the business is______.

单选题If the weather had been better, we could have had a picnic. But it ______ all day. A. rained B. rains C. has rained D. is raining

单选题Only when a person has read much English poetry______Shakespeare.

单选题The boy slipped out of the room and headed for the swimming pool without his parents'______.

单选题The speaker______us with tales of exotic lands and buried treasure.

单选题If only I ______play the guitar as well as you!

单选题Professor Rubin never______during a lecture. Even his jokes related to the day's topic.

单选题The head of the Library of Congress is to name Donald Hall, a writer whose deceptively simple language builds on images of the New England landscape, as the nation's 14th poet laureate today. Mr. Hall, a poet in the distinctive American tradition of Robert Frost, has also been a harsh critic of the religious right's influence on government arts policy. And as a member of the advisory council of the National Endowment for the Arts during the administration of George H. W. Bush, he referred to those he thought were interfering with arts grants as "bullies and art bashers. He will succeed Ted Kooser, the Nebraskan who has been the poet laureate since 2004. The announcement of Mr. Hall's appointment is to be made by James H. Billington, the Librarian of Congress. Mr. Billington said that he chose Mr. Hall because of "the sustained quality of his poetry, the reach and the variety of things he talks about." Like Mr. Kooser, Mr. Billington said," Mr. Hall evokes a sense of place. Mr. Hall, 77, lives in a white clapboard farmhouse in Wilmot, N. H., that has been in his family for generations. He said in a telephone interview that he didn't see the poet laureateship as a bully pulpit. "But it's a pulpit anyway," he said. "If I see First Amendment violations, I will speak up." Mr. Hall is an extremely productive writer who has published about 18 books of poetry, 20 books of prose and 12 children's books. He has won many awards, including a national Book Critics Circle Award in 1989 for "The One Day", a collection. In recent years much of his poetry has been preoccupied with the death of his wife, the poet Jane Ken-yon, in 1995. Robert Pinsky, who was poet laureate from 1997 to 2000 said he welcomed Mr. Hall's appointment, especially in light of his previous outspokenness about politics and arts. "There is something nicely symbolic, and maybe surprising," Mr. Pinsky said, "that they have selected someone who has taken a stand for freedom. " The position carries an award of $ 35, 000 and $ 5, 000 travel allowance. It usually lasts a year, though poets are sometimes reappointed.

单选题South Carolina's mineral resources are abundant, but not all of them can be {{U}}lucratively{{/U}} mined. A. profitably B. safely C. easily D. extensively

单选题Everybody says that he takes ______his grandfather, with his big fleshy nose that takes ______too much space on his face.

单选题TEXT C She was glad of the lake. It's soft; dark water helped to soothe and quiet her mind. It took her away from the noisy, squawkish world of the cat-walk and let her lie untroubled at its side, listening only to the gentle lapping of its waves. She felt at peace. Alone. Unhindered and free. Free to do nothing but watch and listen and dream. London, Paris, New York—names, only names. Names that had once meant excitement, then boredom, then frustration then slavery. Names that had brought her to the edge of a breakdown and left her doubting her own sanity. But here everything was at peace. The lake, the trees, the cottage. Here she could stay for the rest of her life. Here she would be happy to die. Across the sun hurried a darkening filter of cloud. The ripples on the water, chased by a freshening wind, pushed their way anxiously from the far side of the lake until they almost bounced at her feet. And in the East there was thunder. Quickly she gathered her things together and made for the cottage. But already the rain flecked the water behind her and pattered the leaves as she raced beneath the trees. Sodden and breathless, she ran for the cottage door, and, as she opened it, the storm burst. And there on the hearth, haggard and unwelcome, stood a man. "Hello !" It was an odd way to greet a complete stranger who had invaded her home, but it was all she could think of to say. A casual greeting to someone who seemed to be expecting her, waiting for her. Maybe it was the way they did things down here? "I suppose you had to shelter from the storm too?" she asked. The man said nothing. She ought to have been angry at this rude intrusion on her privacy, but anger somehow seemed pointless. It was as if the cottage was his, the hearth was his, and she had come out of the storm to seek refuge at his door. She watched him, cautiously; waiting for an explanation. He said nothing. Not a word. "Did you get wet?" she asked. He stood, huddled by the open fire, gazing at the dying embers. She walked over, brushing against him as she bent to stir the logs into life, but still he did not move. The flames burst forth, lighting up the sadness in his dark eyes. "And kneeled and made the cheerless grate blaze up and all the cottage warm..." The words, spoken by him in a quiet, toneless voice, took her by surprise. "Pardon?" she said But he seemed not to hear. She tried once more. "It look as if it's set in for the evening. Would you like to sit down for a While?" His eyes followed her as she moved to take off her coat and brush out her hair. "... and from her form withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, and laid her soiled gloves by, untied her hat and let the damp hair fall... " Poetry. He was quoting poetry. He looked vaguely like a poet ; lean, distressed, with a certain bitterness in his eyes and hopelessness in his form. And his voice was deep and languid, like the middle of the lake where the water ran darkest. Yet those were not his lines. The words were not created by him. They were somehow familiar. Haft remembered. Surely she had heard them before?

单选题Much of the boy"s free time______the Internet.