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was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood.
Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.
Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites.Now, even at the risk of having
Brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string(线). It seemed there
was no limit to
the heights to which kites would fly today.My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she
cast a look toward the window. "Come on, girls! Let's take string to the boys and watch them fly the
kites a minute."
On the way we met Mrs. Patrick, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together
with her girls.
There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys' kites and
they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orangecolored spots of the kites. Now
and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally
bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.
Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like
schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children
forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. "Perhaps it's like this in the kingdom of heaven," I
thought confusedly.
It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the houses. I suppose we had some sort
of supper. I suppose there must have been a surface tidyingup, for the house on Sunday looked clean
and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn't mention that day afterward. I felt a little
embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that
deepest part of me where we keep "the things that cannot be and yet they are".
The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get
some work out of the way while my threeyearold insistently cried her desire to "go park, see duck."
"I can't go!" I said. "I have this and this to do, and when I'm through I'll be too tired to walk that far."
My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling."It's a wonderful day,"she
offered, "really warm, yet there's a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?"
I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of
memories. "Come on," I told my little girl. "You're right, it's too good a day to miss."
Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath (余波)of a great war. All evening we had been
asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He
had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he think
ing of-what dark and horrible things?
"Say!" A smile slipped out from his lips."Do you remember -no, of course you wouldn't. It probably
didn't make the impression on you as it did on me."
I hardly dared speak."Remember what?"
"I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when t
hings weren't too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?"
B. her husband would make fun of her
C. she should have been doing her housewor
k thenD. her girls weren't supposed to play the boy's game
B. went wild with joy
C. looked on
D. forgot their fights
B. They should have finished their work before playing.
C. Her parents should spend more time with them.
D. All the others must have forgotten that day.
B. She was reminded of the day they flew kites.
C. She had finished her work in the kitchen.
D. She thought it was a great day to play outside.
seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own
houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.
Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having Brother
caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string (线). It seemed there was no limit to
the heights to which kites would fly today.
My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she cast a
look toward the window. "Come on, girls! Let's take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute."
On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her
girls.
There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys' kites and they
went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then
we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to
earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.
Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls.
I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday
fights and little jealousies. "Perhaps it's like this in the kingdom of heaven," I thought confusedly.
It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of
supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly
enough. The strange thing was, we didn't mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none
of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep "the
things that cannot be and yet they are."
The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some
work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to "go park, see duck."
"I can't go!" I said. "I have this and this to do, and when I'm through I'll be too tired to walk that far."
My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. "It's a wonderful day," she
offered,"really warm, yet there's a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?"
I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories.
"Come on," I told my little girl. "You're right, it's too good a day to miss."
Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath (余波) of a great war. All evening we had been asking
our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely,
but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of-what dark and horrible things?
"Say!" A smile sipped out from his lips. "Do you remember-no, of course you wouldn't. It probably didn't
make the impression on you as it did on me."
I hardly dared speak. "Remember what?"
"I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when things weren't too good. Do you remember
the day we flew the kites?"
B. her husband would make fun of her
C. she should have been doing her how
D. supposed to the don't game
B. went wild with joy
C. looked on
D. forgot their fights
B. They should have finished their work before playing.
C. Her parents should spend more time with them.
D. All the others must have forgotten that day.
B. She was reminded of the day they flew kites.
C. She had finished her work in the kitchen.
D. She thought it was a great day to play outside.
B. his experience in POW camp threw a shadow over his life
C. childhood friendship means so much to the writer
D. people like him really changed a lot after the war
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| 完形填空。 | ||||
| Whatever misfortune you face, just hold up your head and face it with a smile! I got to know this from a musical soul. The other day I was feeling quite 1 , having just been laid off from my job. With so many 2 to pay, I was wondering what was going to happen to my family. I got off the bus when I heard piano music and singing rising above the noise of the 3 . I walked a bit slower, trying to find out where it was coming from. Through the 4 I saw a young lady sitting at a piano with a box next to her. She was singing songs about love and her sweet voice 5 me a bit. Then I stood there watching her playing, thinking that it must take 6 to perform on her own in front of hundreds of people she didn't know. She might have felt my 7 for she occasionally looked in my direction. By now I was telling myself that I could at least tell her how good she sounded. I walked 8 and put some money in her box and she expressed her thanks with a smile on her face. I asked her 9 , "Why are you playing the piano in the middle of this crowded place?" She explained to me that she sees so many 10 people in the world that she is trying to relieve the pain by 11 motivational music. Instead of continuing my way home, I said to her, "I have been going through a 12 time lately, but you've made me 13 again." "I'm happy that I could be 14 to you," she replied. "Why are you so sad?" I told her my story and said, "I'm not so 15 about what to do…." "You see, here's the 16 ," she responded. "When you were walking, your head was down." She looked me in the eyes and went on, "Don't look defeated, because 17 comes in different ways and if your head is down you might never see it. You should 18 more …lift your head up." I was really 19 by what she said! I did hold my head up and soon got through the difficult time. So 20 in trouble, just face it bravely and you are sure to overcome your difficulty sooner or later. | ||||
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