2019年11月22日 20:53:52|来源:国际在线|编辑:平安口碑
Phobias are interesting things. Some of them are very serious and can have a really negative influence on life. The most common phobias are the fear of open spaces or closed spaces and the fear of heights and flying. Doctors say all phobias are treatable. Phobias are irrational fears of something. There is no logical reason why someone is afraid of going outside or of flying. It's all inside the sufferer's head. I understand some phobias like the fear of flying, but not others. Some people are afraid of babies, or computers, and even of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. That phobia has a really long Latin name. I wonder if there's a phobia about the English language. Perhaps that's grammarphobia. Article/201106/142392“两排!”素甲鱼叫道,“海豹、乌龟和娃鱼都排好队。然后,把所有的水母都清扫掉……” `Two lines!' cried the Mock Turtle. `Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way--' `THAT generally takes some time,' interrupted the Gryphon. `--you advance twice--' `Each with a lobster as a partner!' cried the Gryphon. `Of course,' the Mock Turtle said: `advance twice, set to partners--' `--change lobsters, and retire in same order,' continued the Gryphon. `Then, you know,' the Mock Turtle went on, `you throw the--' `The lobsters!' shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. `--as far out to sea as you can--' `Swim after them!' screamed the Gryphon. `Turn a somersault in the sea!' cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly about. `Change lobsters again!' yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. Article/201103/129963有声名著之儿子与情人 Chapter12 相关名著:查泰莱夫人的情人简爱呼啸山庄有声名著之傲慢与偏见 Article/200809/47928

《哈克贝里·费恩历险记》第6章:第1节 相关专题:· 有声读物-安徒生童话故事·有声读物-浪漫满屋· 新概念优美背诵短文50篇 Article/200809/47516

I screamed myself and found a sudden acrobatic ability in me when I scaled a metal fence taller than myself into my own street, and within seconds was in my house and was frantically locking the door behind me. I've never run so fast in my life. On the inside of my doorway, in darkness, it took me a while before I could get my breath back or even move away from the doorway. I was exhausted after my flight. Perhaps it was a good thing as the house lights remained off until the car had passed away into the distance and was gone; maybe looking for me in another street (I heard the engine noise disappear, much to my relief. I almost cried with the relief!).  I waited for what seemed like an eternity, a million thoughts racing through my mind, and then without turning on the lights moved to the phone and called my girlfriend. She was fine, just angry that I had woken her up. Her attitude changed when I told her what had happened. We stayed on the phone to each other for hours and hours until the sun's rays shone through the windows, and outside we could both hear the hustle and bustle of daily town life starting up around us. I guess we just wanted to know that each other were ok. She asked me to phone the police, but I decided against it. What did I have to go on? I couldn't describe my pursuers, or the model of car they were in. It was hopeless. She then reminded me of something which happened a few months ago. A teenage lad was seen being pulled into a white car and was never seen again. Neither the motorists involved nor their car were ever found. The witnesses' description perfectly matches that of the car that chased me all over town.   Article/200903/64897

CHAPTER XVIIOne NightNEVER did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet comer in Soho, than one memorable evening when Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves. Lucie was to be married to-morrow. She had reserved this last evening for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree. `You are happy, my dear father?' `Quite, my child.' They had said little though they had been there a long time. When it was yet light enough to work and , she had neither engaged herself in her usual work, nor had she to him. She had employed herself in both ways, at his side under the tree, many and many a time; but, this time was not quite like any other, and nothing could make it so. And I am very happy to-night, dear father. I am deeply happy in the love that Heaven has so blessed--my love for Charles, and Charles's love for me. But, if my life were not to be still consecrated to you, or if my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us, even by the length of a few of these streets, I should be more unhappy and self-reproachful now than I can tell you. Even as it is---' Even as it was, she could not command her voice. In the sad moonlight, she clasped him by the neck, and lad her face upon his breast. In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the sun itself Bas the light called human life is---at its coming and its going. `Dearest dear! Can you tell me, this last time, that you feel quite, quite sure, no new affections of mine, and no new duties of mine, will ever interpose between us? I know it well, but do you know it? In your own heart, do you feel quite certain?' Her father answered, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could scarcely have assumed, `Quite sure, my darling! More than that,' he added, as he tenderly kissed her: `my future is far brighter, Lucie, seen through your marriage, than it could have been--nay, than it ever was--without it.' `If I could hope that, my father!---' `Believe it, love! Indeed it is so. Consider how natural and how plain it is, my dear, that it should be so. You, devoted and young, cannot fully appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be wasted' She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and repeated the word. `--wasted, my child--should not be wasted, struck aside from the natural order of things--for my sake. Your unselfishness cannot entirely comprehend how much my mind has gone on this; but, only ask yourself how could my happiness be perfect, while yours was incomplete?' `If I had never seen Charles, my father, I should have been quite happy with you.' He smiled at her unconscious admission that she would have been unhappy without Charles, having seen him; and replied: `My child, you did see him, and it is Charles. If it had not been Charles, it would have been another. Or, if it had been no other, I should have been the cause, and then the dark part of my life would have cast its shadow beyond myself and would have fallen on you.' It was the first time, except at the trial, of her ever hearing him refer to the period of his suffering. It gave her a strange and new sensation while his words were in her ears; and she remembered it long afterwards. `See!' said the Doctor of Beauvais, raising his hand towards the moon. `I have looked at her from my prison-window, when I could not bear her light. I have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think of her shining upon what I had lost, that I have beaten my head against my prison-walls. I have looked at her, in a state so dull and lethargic, that I have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines `I could draw across her at the full, and the number of perpendicular lines with which I could intersect them.' He added in his inward and pondering manner, as he looked at the moon, `It was twenty either way, I remember, and the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in.' The strange thrill with which she heard him go back to that time, deepened as he dwelt upon it; but, there was nothing to shock her in the manner of his reference. He only seemed to contrast his present cheerfulness and felicity with the dire endurance that was over. `I have looked at her, speculating thousands of times upon the unborn child from whom I had been rent. Whether it was alive. Whether it had been born alive, or the poor mother's shock had killed it. Whether it was a son who would some day avenge his father. (There was a time in my imprisonment, when my desire for vengeance was unbearable.) Whether it was a son who would never know his father's story; who might even live to weigh the possibility of his father's having disappeared of his own will and act. Whether it was a daughter who would grow to be a woman.' Article/200904/66538

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