Pre-class Work Read the text a third time. Learn the new words and expressions listed below.
accomplishment n. the act of finishing sth. completely and successfully; achievement
acquire v. to gain; to get for oneself by one's own work
arrogantly adv. behaving in a proud and self-important way
aspirin n. 阿司匹林（解热镇痛药）
assume v. to take as a fact; to suppose
available adj. able to be used or easily found
bachelor n. ～'s degree: the first university degree
beanpole n. (infml) a very tall and thin person
bull n. a male cow
certify v. to state that sth. is true or correct, esp. after some kind of test
civilized adj. educated and refined; having an advanced culture
client n. a person who pays for help or advice from a person or organization
continuity n. the state of being continuous
cyanide n. 氰化物
democratic adj. based on the idea that everyone should have equal rights and should be involved in making important decisions 民主的
disaster n. a sudden event such as a flood, storm, or accident which causes great damage or suffering. Here: a complete failure
drugstore n. (AmE) a shop which sells medicine (and a variety of other things)
enroll v. to officially arrange to join a school or university
expertise n. skill in a particular field
expose v. to enable sb. to see or experience new things or learn about new beliefs, ideas, etc.
faculty n. (AmE) all the teachers of a university or college
fragment n. a small piece of sth.
generate v. to produce
grind v. to crush into small pieces or powder by pressing between hard surfaces
hip n. the fleshy part of either side of the human body above the legs
humanity n. the qualities of being human
implicitly adv. in an implied way 含蓄地
inevitable adj. certain to happen and impossible to avoid
literal adj. in the basic meaning of a word
maintain v. to continue to have as before
Neanderthal n. an early type of human being who lived in Europe during the Stone Age
nevertheless adv. in spite of that; yet
peculiar adj. belonging only to a particular person; special; odd
penetrating adj. showing the ability to understand things clearly and deeply
pest n. (infml) an annoying person
pharmacy n. a shop where medicines are prepared and sold. Here: the study of preparing drugs or medicines philosophy n. the study of the nature and meaning of existence, reality, etc. 哲学
pill n. a small solid piece of medicine that you swallow whole
preside v. to lead; to be in charge
professional adj. relating to the work that a person does for an occupation, esp. work that requires special training
pursuit n. the act of trying to achieve sth. in a determined way
push-button adj. using computers or electronic equipment rather than traditional methods
qualified adj. having suitable knowledge or experience for a particular job
rear v. to care for a person or an animal until they are fully grown
resources n. possessions in the form of wealth, property, skills, etc. that you have 资源
savage n. an uncivilized human being
scroll n. Here: a certificate of an academic degree
semester n. one of the two periods into which the year is divided in American high schools and universities (=term in BrE) sensitive adj. able to understand or appreciate art, music or literature
shudder v. to shake uncontrollably for a moment
specialize v. to limit all or most of one's study to particular subjects 专修
species n. (infml) a type; a sort
specimen n. Here: a person who is unusual in some way and has a quality of a particular kind
spiritual adj. related to your spirit rather than to your body or mind
store v. to keep
suffice v. to be enough
Proper Names : Aristotle 亚里士多德Bach 巴赫Chaucer 乔叟Dante 但丁Einstein 爱因斯坦Hamlet 哈姆雷特Homer 荷马La Rochefoucauld 拉罗什富科Shakespeare 莎士比亚Virgil 维吉尔
Another School Year — What For
Read the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.
Let me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk.
New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training school but a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.
I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep." "Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school —or engineering, or law school, or whatever —during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rears your children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice."
"But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetrating idea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Will there be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach"
That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money."
"I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks."
Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history —then you have no
business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them — without making contact.
No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.
Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.
And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mind includes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare — the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.
I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.
I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, says implicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."
alert adj. watchful and ready to meet danger
birch n. 桦树
bough n. a main branch of a tree
cabin n. a small roughly built house
chase v. to drive away; to cause to leave
creek n. a long narrow stream
crouch v. to lower the body close to the ground by bending the knees and back
cub n. a young meat-eating wild animal like bear, lion, tiger, wolf, etc.
detain v. to keep sb. from leaving during a certain time
dim v. to become less bright
doc n. (infml AmE) a doctor
drift v. to be driven along by wind
flake n. a very small flat thin piece that breaks away easily from sth. else; snow ～: 雪花
grasshopper n. 蚱蜢
howl n. a long loud cry, esp. made by wolves as in pain, anger, etc.
leap v. to jump high into the air
lick v. to move the tongue across the surface of sth. in order to eat it or clean it
mantle n. a loose outer sleeveless garment. Here it is used figuratively.
meadow n. a field with wild grass and flowers
mischievous adj. eager to have fun by playing harmless tricks
muzzle n. the nose and mouth of an animal such as a dog, a wolf or a horse
numb adj. unable to feel anything because of coldness
pace n. a single step in running or walking
partner n. sb. who does the same activity with you 伙伴
paw n. an animal's foot that has nails or claws
pierce v. to make a hole in or through (sth.) using sth. with a sharp point
pine n. 松树
poke v. to push or move sth. through a space or opening
puppy n. a young dog ("puppy-wool" here refers to the wool of the wolf cub)
realize v. to understand
restless adj. unwilling or unable to stay quiet and still
rifle n. a type of gun fired from the shoulder
rocket n. 火箭
rooster n. (AmE) a cock
rumble n. a deep continuous rolling sound
shack n. a small and not very strong building
shiver v. to shake, esp. from cold or fear
slash v. to make a long deep cut with sth. sharp like a knife
smother v. to cover thickly
snarl n. a low angry sound while showing the teeth
soaked adj. very wet with some liquid
spear v. 用鱼叉刺
spurt v. to come out quickly and suddenly in a thin, powerful stream
squat v. to sit with your knees bent under you, your bottom off the ground, and balancing on your feet 蹲；蹲坐squirrel n. a small animal with a long furry tail that climbs trees and eats nuts 松鼠
stir v. to move slightly
thicken v. to become thicker
thrill v. to feel very happy and excited
toll n. to take a ～: to have a very bad effect on sb. or sth.
trapper n. a person who catches wild animals for their fur
unchained adj. without a chain
whimper v. to make low crying sounds
wiggle v. (infml) to move in small movements from side to side, or up and down
wolf n. a wild animal that looks like a large dog and lives and hunts in groups
wool n. the soft thick hair of sheep and some goats (Here it refers to the hair of the wolf.)
Text A Maheegun My Brother Eric Acland
The year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.
As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full and warm.
My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him. That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life.
Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. He was curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket — which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.
That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.
The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories.
It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had
killed her rooster. The next morning, my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to the north shack.
By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind.
The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in the moon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.
Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf sitting still, ears pointed, alert, listening.
"Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.
Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!"
The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice.
"He's gone," I said.
"Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."
I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose my brother.
For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battle for life, found time to remember me.
It was not long after that I found the answer.
Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.
My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.
A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.
The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snow had made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.
I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone in a great circle and I was lost.
There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed of boughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble. The storm was even worse. Everything had been smothered by the fierce whiteness.
The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.
Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.
Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.
How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage.
"Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.
It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat!
Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.
Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others.
"Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.
I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know.
Maheegun whimpered too.
Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.
The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces —head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.
The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.
The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"
He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.
I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed.
"You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two."
"And Maheegun" I asked weakly. "He should be fine. He is with his own kind."
approval n. official permission
bond n. a written document in which a government or company promises to pay back money that it has borrowed, often with interest 债券
certainty n. the state of being certain
commit v. to do sth. wrong or illegal
contribution n. sth. you say or do in order to help make sth. successful 贡献
convict v. to find sb. guilty of a crime, esp. in a court of law
n. a person who has been found guilty of a crime and sent to prison
costly adj. having a high price; expensive
court n. a place where legal matters are decided by a judge and jury
current adj. belonging to the present time
decade n. a period of 10 years
deter v. to discourage; to persuade sb. not to do sth., by making him realize it will be difficult or will have unpleasant results
dismiss v. to ～a court case: to stop a court case before a result is reached
elite adj. considered to be the best of their kind 属于精英的，最好的
estimate n. a calculation of a quantity or number 估计
evidence n. the information used in a court of law to try to prove sth.
execute v. to kill sb. as a lawful punishment for a serious crime
feasible adj. able to be carried out or done
feature n. a typical part or quality
illustrate v. to show sth. by giving related examples
imprison v. to put in prison
inmate n. one who is kept in a prison
maximum adj. the largest number or amount
nonetheless adv. in spite of that; yet; nevertheless
nontraffic adj. not related to traffic
observation n. what one has noticed
offender n. sb. who is guilty of a crime; a criminal
offense n. an illegal action or a crime
per prep. for each
personnel n. all the people employed in a particular organization
precisely adv. exactly
prior adj. happening before
property n. belongings; possessions
prosecute v. to bring a criminal charge against sb. in a court of law
rate n. the speed at which sth. happens over a period of time
reality n. the real situation; the real state of affairs
reject v. to refuse to accept
Saudi Arabia 沙特阿拉伯
severity n. the state of being severe
social adj. relating to society
solution n. a way of solving a problem or dealing with a difficult situation
statistics n. facts shown in numbers
teenage adj. aged between 13 and 19
theft n. the crime of stealing
tough adj. determined and strict
victim n. a person who suffers as a result of other people's criminal actions, etc.
violence n. the use of force to hurt other people physically
voter n. a person who has the legal right to vote, esp. in a political election
witness n. a person who tells in a court of law what he saw or what he knows about a crime
Proper Name Alcatraz 阿尔卡特拉兹（美国圣弗兰西斯科湾——即旧金山湾——的小岛，1933—1963年为一座联邦监狱所在地。）
Text A More Crime and Less Punishment Richard Moran
If you are looking for an explanation of why we don't get tough with criminals, you need only look at the numbers. Each year almost a third of the households in America are victims of violence or theft. This amounts to more than 41 million crimes, many more than we are able to punish. There are also too many criminals. The best estimates suggest that 36 million to 40 million people (16 to 18 percent of the U. S. population) have arrest records for nontraffic offenses. We already have 2. 4 million people under some form of correctional supervision, 412, 000 of them locked away in a prison cell. We don't have room for any more!
The painful fact is that the more crime there is the less we are able to punish it. This is why the certainty and severity of punishment must go down when the crime rate goes up. Countries like Saudi Arabia can afford to give out harsh punishments precisely because they have so little crime. But can we afford to cut off the hands of those who committed more than 35 million property crimes each year Can we send them to prison Can we execute more than 22,000 murderers
We need to think about the relationship between punishment and crime in a new way. A decade of careful research has failed to provide clear and convincing evidence that the threat of punishment reduces crime. We think that punishment deters crime, but it just might be the other way around. It just might be that crime deters punishment: that there is so much crime that it simply cannot be punished.
This is the situation we find ourselves in today. Just as the decline in the number of high-school graduates has made it easier to gain admission to the college of one's choice, the gradual increase in the criminal population has made it more difficult to get into prison. While elite colleges and universities still have high standards of admissions, some of the most "exclusive" prisons now require about five prior serious crimes before an inmate is accepted into their correctional program. Our current crop of prisoners is an elite group, on the whole much more serious offenders than those who were once imprisoned in Alcatraz.
These features show that it makes little sense to blame the police, judges or correctional personnel for being soft on criminals. There is not much else they can do. The police can't find most criminals and those they do find are difficult and costly to convict. Those convicted can't all be sent to prison. The society demands that we do everything we can against crime. The practical reality is that there is very little the police, courts or prisons can do about the crime problem. The criminal justice system must then become as powerless as a parent who has charge of hundreds of teenage children and who is nonetheless expected to answer the TV message: "It's 10 o'clock! Do you know where your children are"
A few statistics from the Justice Department's recent "Report to the Nation on Crime and Justice" illustrate my point. Of every 100 serious crimes committed in America, only 33 are actually reported to the police. Of the 33 reported, about six lead to
arrest. Of the six arrested, only three are prosecuted and convicted. The others are rejected or dismissed due to evidence or witness problems or are sent elsewhere for medical treatment instead of punishment. Of the three convicted, only one is sent to prison. The other two are allowed to live in their community under supervision. Of the select few sent to prison, more than half receive a maximum sentence of five years. The average inmate, however, leaves prison in about two years. Most prisoners gain early release not because parole boards are too easy on crime, but because it is much cheaper to supervise a criminal in the community. And, of course, prison officials must make room for the new prisoners sent almost daily from the courts.
We could, of course, get tough with the people we already have in prison and keep them locked up for longer periods of time. Yet when measured against the lower crime rates this would probably produce, longer prison sentences are not worth the cost to state and local governments. Besides, those states that have tried to gain voters' approval for bonds to build new prisons often discover that the public is unwilling to pay for prison construction.
And if it were willing to pay, long prison sentences may not be effective in reducing crime. In 1981, 124,000 convicts were released from prison. If we had kept them in jail for an additional year, how many crimes would have been prevented While it is not possible to know the true amount of crime committed by people released from prison in any given year, we do know the extent to which those under parole are jailed again for major crime convictions. This number is a surprisingly low 6 percent (after three years it rises to only 11 percent). Even if released prisoners commit an average of two crimes each, this would amount to only 15,000 crimes prevented: a drop in the bucket when measured against the 41 million crimes committed each year.
More time spent in prison is also more expensive. The best estimates are that it costs an average of $13,000 to keep a person in prison for one year. If we had a place to keep the 124,000 released prisoners, it would have cost us $1.6 billion to prevent 15,000 crimes. This works out to more than $100,000 per crime prevented. But there is more. With the average cost of prison construction running around $50,000 per bed, it would cost more than $6 billion to build the necessary cells. The first-year operating cost would be $150,000 per crime prevented, worth it if the victim were you or me, but much too expensive to be feasible as a national policy.
Faced with the reality of the numbers, I will not be so foolish as to suggest a solution to the crime problem. My contribution to the public debate begins and ends with this simple observation: getting tough with criminals is not the answer.
beneath prep. (fml) below; directly under
bloom v. to come into flowers
breast n. Here：the front part of a bird's body
bride n. a woman about to be married, or just married
bridegroom n. a man about to be married, or just married
bubble v. to make the sound like water boiling 发出汩汩的流水声
bud n. a young tightly rolled-up flower (or leaf) before it opens 花蕾；芽
butterfly n. 蝴蝶
chamberlain n. an important official in charge of housekeeping affairs in a king's court 内侍总管
chill v. to make sb. or sth. very cold
coral n. 珊瑚
crimson adj. having a deep purplish red colour
crystal n. a transparent natural mineral that looks like ice 水晶
cynic n. a person who sees little or no good in anything and shows this by making unkind and unfair remarks about people or things
daffodil n. 水仙花
daisy n. 雏菊
delicate adj. finely made; needing careful handling
dove n. a kind of small pigeon （鸽子）used as a sign of peace
ebb v. to flow away from the shore; to gradually decrease
ecstasy n. a very strong feeling of joy and happiness
emerald n. a bright green precious stone 绿宝石
fling (flung, flung) v. to move (oneself) quickly with a lot of force
flush n. a red appearance of the face
flutter v. to move (the wings) quickly and lightly up and down
foam n. 泡沫
frost n. ice that looks white and powdery and covers things outside when the temperature is very low
frown v. to move one's eyebrows together to show disapproval
girdle n. 女用腰带
grove n. a small group of trees in a garden
gutter n. a channel at the edge of a road next to the pavement where water collects and flows away
harp n. a large musical instrument with strings 竖琴
instrument n. musical ～: an object which is used for producing music
jewel n. a precious stone
lizard n. 蜥蜴
mermaiden (usu. mermaid) n. a woman in stories who has a fish's tail instead of legs
musician n. a person who plays on a musical instrument very well or as a job
nest n. a hollow place built or found by a bird as its home to hold its eggs in
nightingale n. a small bird that sings beautifully, esp. at night
nip v. to take off; to keep sth. from growing or development
opal n. a precious stone which looks like milky water with colours in it 蛋白石
outright adv. completely and at once
pang n. a sudden sharp pain
petal n. leaflike divisions of a flower 花瓣
pluck v. to pick
prince n. the son of a king or queen
ruby n. a red jewel 红宝石
sincerity n. the quality of being honest and true
soar v. to fly high up in the sky
soul n. the heart where people's deepest thoughts and feelings come from
stringed adj. ～instrument: a musical instrument with one or more strings 弦乐器
sunbeam n. a ray of sunlight
sun-dial n. an instrument used esp. in former times which shows the time according to where the shadow of a pointed metal falls when the sun shines on it 日规；日晷（仪）
thorn n. sharp pointed growth on a plant 刺；棘
tomb n. a grave; the place in the ground where a dead person is buried
topmost adj. highest
vein n. a tube that carries blood from any part of the body to the heart
violin n. a musical instrument 小提琴
wretched adj. very unhappy
Text A The Nightingale and the Rose Oscar Wilde
"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."
From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him and she looked out through the leaves and wondered.
"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched."
"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, and now I see him.
"The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be there. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely and my heart will break."
"Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and
"The musicians will play upon their stringed instruments," said the young Student, "and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her," and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
"Why is he weeping" asked a green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
"Why, indeed" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
"Why, indeed" whispered a Daisy to his neighbor, in a soft, low voice.
"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.
"For a red rose" they cried, "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the Student's sorrow, and sat silent in the Oak-tree.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass-plot stood a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are white," it answered, "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are yellow," it answered, "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms In the meadow. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.
"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."
"One red rose is all that I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it"
"There is a way," answered the Tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."
"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."
"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."
"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man"
So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
The young Student was still lying on the grass, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy, you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover."
The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him. But the Oak-tree understood and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale. "Sing me one last song," he whispered. "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song, the Student got up.
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away. "That cannot be denied. But has she got feeling I am afraid not. In fact, like most artists, she is all style without any sincerity." And he went to his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, he fell asleep.
And when the Moon shone in the heaven, the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.
And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvelous rose became crimson. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as ruby was the heart.
But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The Red Rose heard it, and trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals in the cold morning air.
"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now." But the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.
"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried, "here is the reddest rose I have ever seen." And he leaned down and plucked it.
Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's daughter with the rose in his hand.
"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."
But the girl frowned.
"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered, "and besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost more than flowers."
"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter.
"What a silly thing Love is!" said the Student as he walked away. "In fact it is quite unpractical, and as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy."
So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
alcohol n. the pure colourless liquid present in wine or beer that can make one drunk, often used for medical purposes to clean things
blur v. to make difficult to see clearly
brow n. Here: eyebrow 眉毛
considerate adj. thoughtful of the rights or feelings of others
cover n. a piece of material, a cloth used on a bed to make it warmer; the ～s: 毯子；被子
dab v. to touch lightly or gently several times
demonstrate v. to show clearly
draining-board n. a sloping board next to the kitchen sink on which wet dishes are put to dry
greasy adj. covered with oil or fat
imply v. to suggest that sth. is true without saying this directly
indifference n. lack of interest or concern
mop v. to clean with a mop （拖把）
nozzle n. a short tube fitted to the end of a pipe to control or direct the stream of liquid 喷嘴
pinch v. to press tightly between-finger and thumb ～one's brows together: to frown
plunge v. to move suddenly forwards or downwards
racist n. a person who believes that people of his own race are better than others
refrigerator n. an icebox in which food or drinks can be kept at a low temperature
relax v. to feel calm and comfortable and stop worrying
rinse v. to wash sth. in clean water so as to take away soap
rummage v. to turn things over and look into all the corners while trying to find sth.
shallow adj. of little depth; opposite of "deep"
silverware n. things made of silver such as knives, forks and spoons
sink n. a large open container in a kitchen that you can fill with water and use for washing dishes, etc.
snap v. to say angrily; to move suddenly
spray v. to force out liquid in small drops under pressure
squeeze v. to press firmly inwards or from the opposite side 挤
stupid adj. silly or foolish
thoroughly adv. completely
unattached adj. not married or engaged; still single
undress v. to take one's clothes off
wrist n. the joint between the hand and the lower part of the arm
Proper Name Ann 安（女子名）
Text A Say Yes Tobias Wolff
They were doing the dishes, his wife washing while he dried. Unlike most men he knew, he really pitched in on the housework. A few months earlier he'd overheard a friend of his wife's congratulate her on having such a considerate husband. They talked about different things and somehow got on the subject of whether white people should marry black people. He said that all things considered, he thought it was a bad idea.
"Why" she asked.
Sometimes his wife got this look where she pinched her brows together and bit her lower lip. When he saw her like this he knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he never did. Actually it made him talk more. She had that look now.
"Why" she asked again, and stood there with her hand inside a bowl, just holding it above the water.
"Listen," he said, "I went to school with blacks, and I've worked with blacks and we've always gotten along just fine. I don't need you coming along now and implying that I'm a racist."
"I didn't imply anything," she said, "I just don't see what's wrong with a white person marrying a black person, that's all." "They don't come from the same culture. Why, they even have their own language. That's okay with me, I like hearing them talk." "But it's different. A person from their culture and a person from our culture could never really know each other." "Like you know me" his wife asked.
"Yes. Like I know you."
"But if they love each other," she said.
Oh boy, he thought. He said, "Don't take my word for it. Look at the statistics. Most of those marriages break up." "Statistics." She was piling dishes on the draining-board at a terrific rate. Many of them were still greasy. "All right," she said, "what about foreigners I suppose you think the same thing about two foreigners getting married."
"Yes," he said, "as a matter of fact I do. How can you understand someone who comes from a completely different background"
"Different," said his wife. "Not the same, like us."
"Yes, different," he snapped, angry with her for resorting to this trick of repeating his words so that they sounded hypocritical. "These are dirty," he said, and threw all the silverware back into the sink.
She stared down at it, her lips pressed tight together, then plunged her hands under the surface. "Oh!" she cried, and jumped back. She took her right hand by the wrist and held it up. Her thumb was bleeding.
"Don't move," he said. "Stay right there." He ran upstairs to the bathroom and rummaged in the medicine chest for alcohol, cotton, and a Band-Aid. When he came back down she was leaning against the refrigerator with her eyes closed, still holding her hand. He took the hand and dabbed at her thumb with the cotton. The bleeding had stopped. He squeezed it to see how
deep the wound was. "It's shallow," he said. "Tomorrow you won't even know it's there." He hoped that she appreciated how quickly he had come to her aid. He'd acted out of concern for her, he thought that it would be a nice gesture on her part not to start up that conversation again, as he was tired of it. "I'll finish up here," he said. "You go and relax."
"That's okay," she said. "I'll dry."
He began to wash the silverware again.
"So," she said, "you wouldn't have married me if I'd been black."
"For Christ's sake, Ann!"
"Well, that's what you said, didn't you"
"No, I did not. The whole question is ridiculous. If you had been black we probably wouldn't even have met. The only black girl I ever really knew was my partner in the debating club."
"But if we had met, and I'd been black"
"Then you probably would have been going out with a black guy." He picked up the rinsing nozzle and sprayed the silverware.
"Let's say I am black and unattached," she said, "and we meet and fall in love."
He glanced over at her. She was watching him and her eyes were bright. "Look," he said, taking a reasonable tone, "this is stupid. If you were black you wouldn't be you." As he said this he realized it was absolutely true. There was no possible way of arguing with the fact that she would not be herself if she were black.
"I know," she said, "but let's just say."
He took a deep breath. He had won the argument but he still felt cornered. "Say what" he asked.
"That I'm black, but still me, and we fall in love. Will you marry me" He though! about it.
"Well" she said. Her eyes were even brighter. "Will you marry me"
"I'm thinking," he said. "You won't, I can tell."
"Let's not move too fast on this," he said. "There are lots of things to consider. We don't want to do something we would regret for the rest of our lives." "No more considering. Yes or no." "Since you put it that way — "
"Yes or no." "Jesus, Ann. All right. No."
She said, "Thank you," and walked from the kitchen into the living room. A moment later he heard her turning the pages of a magazine. He knew that she was too angry to be actually reading it, but she didn't snap through the pages the way he would have done. She turned them slowly, as if she were studying every word. She was demonstrating her indifference to him, and it had the effect he knew she wanted it to have. It hurt him.
He had no choice but to demonstrate his indifference to her. Quietly, thoroughly, he washed the rest of the dishes. Then he dried them and put them away. He wiped the counters and the stove.
While he was at it, he decided, he might as well mop the floor. When he was done the kitchen looked new, the way it looked when they were first shown the house.
He picked up the garbage pail and went outside. The night was clear and he could see a few stars to the west, where the lights of the town didn't blur them out. On El Camino the traffic was steady and light, peaceful as a river. He felt ashamed that he had let his wife get him into a fight. In another thirty years or so they would both be dead. What would all that stuff matter then He thought of the years they had spent together, and how close they were, and how well they knew each other, and his throat tightened so that he could hardly breathe.
The house was dark when he came back inside. She was in the bathroom. He stood outside the door and called her name. "Ann, I'm really sorry," he said. "I'll make it up to you. I promise." "How" she said.
He knew that he had to come up with the right answer. He leaned against the door. "I'll marry you," he whispered.
"We'll see," she said. "Go on to bed. I'll be out in a minute."
He undressed and got under the covers. Finally he heard the bathroom door open and close.
"Turn off the light," she said from the hallway.
"What" "Turn off the light." He reached over and pulled the chain on the bedside lamp. The room went dark. "All right," he said. He lay there, but nothing happened. "All right," he said again. Then he heard a movement across the room. He sat up, but he couldn't see a thing. The room was silent. His heart pounded the way it had on their first night together, the way it still did when he woke at a noise in the darkness and waited to hear it again — the sound of someone moving through the house, a stranger.