题目列表(包括答案和解析)
A Municipal Report(Adapted from a story by O．Henry)(Ⅱ)
Azalea Adair herself opened the door when I knocked．She was about 50 years old．Her white hair was pulled back from her small，tired face．She wore a pale yellow dress．It was old，but very clean．
Azalea Adair led me into her living room．A damaged table，three chairs and an old red sofa were in the center of the floor．
Azalea Adair and I sat down at the table and began to talk．I told her about the magazine's offer an she told me about herself．She was from an old southern family．Her father had been a judge．
Azalea Adair told me she had never traveled or even attended school．Her parents taught her at home with private teachers．We finished our meeting．I promised to return with the agreement the next day, and rose to leave．
At that moment，someone knocked at the back door．Azalea Adair whispered a soft apology and went to answer the caller．She came back a minute later with bright eyes and pink cheeks．She looked ten year younger．“You must have a cup of tea before you go，”she said．She shook a little bell on the table，and small black girl about twelve years old ran into the room．
Azalea Adair opened a tiny old purse and took out a dollar bill．It had been fixed with a piece of blue paper and the upper right hand comer was missing．It was the dollar I had given to Uncle Caesar．“Go to Mr．Baker's store，Impy ,”she said，“and get me 25 cents' worth of tea and ten cents' worth of sugar cakes． And please hurry．”
The child ran out of the room．We heard the back door close．Then the girl screamed．Her cry mixed with a man's angry voice．Azalea Adair stood up．Her face showed no emotion as she left the room．I heard the man's rough voice and her gentle one．Then a door slammed and she came back into the room．“I am sorry，but I won't be able to offer you any tea after all，” she said．“It seems that Mr．Baker has no more tea．Perhaps he will find some for our visit tomorrow．”
We said good-bye．I went back to my hotel．
Just before dinner, Major Wentworth Caswell found me．It was impossible to avoid him．He insisted on buying me a drink and pulled two one-dollar bills from his pocket．Again I saw a torn dollar fixed with blue paper, with a corner missing．It was the one I gave Uncle Caesar．How strange，I thought． I wondered how Caswell got it．
63．We can judge from her behavior that Miss Adair was ．
A．polite and elegant B．confident and determined
C．poor and miserable D．capable and hardworking
64．Adair seemed after coming back from the back door．
A．as calm as before B．sadder C．excited D．surprised
65．The angry man with a rough voice outside might be ．
A．Uncle Caesar B．Mr．Baker C．Caswell D．A stranger
66．When the narrator saw Caswell again at his hotel，he was surprised ．
A．that Caswell should find him
B．that Caswell insisted on buying him a drink
C．that Caswell pulled two one-dollar bills from his pocket
D．to find Caswell had the torn dollar bill with a comer missing
I am a writer. I spend a great deal of my time thinking about the power of language—the way it can evoke（唤起） an emotion, a visual image, a complex idea, or a simple truth. Language is the tool of my trade. And I use them all—all the Englishes I grew up with.
Born into a Chinese family that had recently arrived in California, I’ve been giving more thought to the kind of English my mother speaks. Like others, I have described it to people as “broken” English. But feel embarrassed to say that. It has always bothered me that I can think of no way to describe it other than “broken”, as if it were damaged and needed to be fixed, as if it lacked a certain wholeness. I’ve heard other terms used, “limited English,” for example. But they seem just as bad, as if everything is limited, including people’s perceptions（认识）of the limited English speaker.
I know this for a fact, because when I was growing up, my mother’s “limited” English limited my perception of her. I was ashamed of her English. I believed that her English reflected the quality of what she had to say. That is ,because she expressed them imperfectly her thoughts were imperfect. And I had plenty of evidence to support me: the fact that people in department stores, at banks, and at restaurants did not take her seriously, did not give her good service, pretended not to understand her, or even acted as if they did not hear her.
I started writing fiction in 1985. And for reasons I won’t get into today, I began to write stories using all the Englishes I grew up with: the English she used with me, which for lack of a better term might be described as “broken”, and what I imagine to be her translation of her Chinese, her internal（内在的） language, and for that I sought to preserve the essence, but neither an English nor a Chinese structure: I wanted to catch what language ability tests can never show; her intention, her feelings, the rhythms of her speech and the nature of her thoughts.
1. By saying “Language is the tool of my trade”, the author means that ______.
A. she uses English in foreign trade
B. she is fascinated by languages
C. she works as a translator
D. she is a writer by profession
2.The author used to think of her mother’s English as ______.
A. impolite B. amusing
C. imperfect D. practical
3. Which of the following is TRUE according to Paragraph 3?
A. Americans do not understand broken English.
B. The author’s mother was not respected sometimes.
C. The author’ mother had positive influence on her.
D. Broken English always reflects imperfect thoughts.
4. The author gradually realizes her mother’s English is _____.
A. well structured B. in the old style
C. easy to translate D. rich in meaning
5. What is the passage mainly about?
A. The changes of the author’s attitude to her mother’s English.
B. The limitation of the author’s perception of her mother.
C. The author’s misunderstanding of “limited” English.
D. The author’s experiences of using broken English.
I stood outside New York’s Madison Square Garden and just stared, almost speechless. I was a farm boy from County Kilkenny, a child who some thought would never walk, let alone go as far as I had in the world.
From the day I was born, there was a problem. The doctors at the Dublin hospital told my parents I had phocomelia, a deformity that affected both legs below the knee, which were outward and shorter than normal and each foot had just three toes.
Life was tough. I couldn’t stand, much less walk. I rarely left the farmhouse—and then only in someone’s arms. Mom bundled me up whenever she took me to town, no matter the season.
“The world will see him when he can walk,” she told Dad. “And he will walk.”
Mom devoted herself to helping me. She tried everything to get me on my feet. When I was three, she and Dad took me to a clinic in Dublin.
A few weeks later we returned to Dublin with my artificial limbs (肢). Back home I practiced walking with my new limbs.
“There’s nothing anyone can do but you can’t,” Mom said. “You and I are going to walk through town.”
The next day Mom dressed me in my finest clothes. She wore a summer dress and fixed her hair and makeup. Dad drove us to the church. We stepped out of the car. Mom took my hand. “Hold your head up high, now, Ronan,” she said.
We walked 300 meters to the post office. It was the farthest I’d walked, and I was sweating from the effort. Then we left the post office and continued down the street, Mom's eyes shining with a mother's pride.
That night, back on our farm, I lay exhausted on my bed. It meant nothing, though, compared to what I’d done on my walk.
Then I began to pursue my dream of singing. And at every step Mom's words came back to me—Ronan, you can do anything anyone else can do—and the faith she had in God, who would help me do it.
I’ve sung from the grandest stages in Europe, to music played by the world’s finest musicians. That night, I stood at the Madison Square Garden, with Mom’s words chiming in my ears. Then I began singing. I couldn't feel the pulse of the music in my feet, but I felt it deep in my heart, the same place where Mom’s promise lived.
What was the problem with the author as a baby?
A. He was expected unable to walk. B. He was born outward in character.
C. He had a problem with listening. D. He was shorter than a normal baby.
The underlined word “deformity” in the second paragraph most probably means _________.
A. shortcoming B. disadvantage C. disability D. delay
Why did Mom dress him and herself in finest clothes?
A. To hide their depressed feeling. B. To indicate it an unusual day.
C. To show off their clothes. D. To celebrate his successful operation.
From the story we may conclude that his mother was __________.
A. determined B. stubborn C. generous D. distinguished
According to the writer, what mattered most in his success?
A. His consistent effort. B. His talent for music.
C. His countless failures. D. His mother’s promise.
I stood outside New York’s Madison Square Garden and just stared, almost speechless. I was a farm boy from County Kilkenny, a child who some thought would never walk, let alone go as far as I had in the world.
From the day I was born, there was a problem. The doctors at the Dublin hospital told my parents I had phocomelia, a deformity that affected both legs below the knees, which were outward and shorter than normal and each foot had just three toes.
Life was tough. I couldn’t stand, much less walk. I rarely left the farmhouse-and then only in someone’s arms. Mom bundled me up whenever she took me to town, no matter the season.
“The world will see him when he can walk, ” she told Dad. “And he will walk. ”
Mom devoted herself to helping me. She tried everything to get me on my feet. When I was three, she and Dad took me to a clinic in Dublin.
A few weeks later we returned to Dublin with my artificial limbs (假肢). Back home I practiced walking with my new limbs.
“There’s nothing anyone can do but you can’t, ” Mom said. “You and I are going to walk through town. ”
The next day Mom dressed me in my finest clothes. She wore a summer dress and fixed her hair and makeup. Dad drove us to the church. We stepped out of the car. Mom took my hand. “Hold your head up high, now, Ronan. ” she said.
We walked 300 meters to the post office. It was the farthest I’d walked, and I was sweating from the effort. Then we left the post office and continued down the street, Mom’s eyes shining with a mother’s pride.
That night, back on our farm, I lay exhaustedly on my bed. It meant nothing, though, compared to what I’d done on my walk.
Then I began to pursue my dream of singing. And at every step Mom’s words came back to me-Ronan, you can do anything anyone else can do-and the faith she had in God, who would help me do it.
I’ve sung from the grandest stages in Europe, to music played by the world’s finest musicians. That night, I stood at the Madison Square Garden, with Mom’s words chiming in my ears, the same place where Mom’s promise lived. Then I began singing. I couldn’t feel the pulse of the music in my feet, but I felt it deep in my ears.
61. What was the problem with the author as a baby?
A. He was expected unable to walk.
B. He was born outward in character.
C. He had a problem with listening.
D. He was shorter than a normal baby.
62. The underlined word “deformity” in the second paragraph most probably means________ .
A. shortcoming B. disadvantage
C. disability D. delay
63. Why did Mom dress him and herself?
A. To hide their depressed feeling.
B. To indicate it an unusual day.
C. To show off their clothes.
D. To celebrate his successful operation.
64. From the story we may conclude that his mother was________ .
A. determined B. stubborn
C. generous D. distinguished
65. According to the writer, what mattered most in his success?
A. His consistent effort.
B. His talent for music.
C. His countless failures.
D. His mother’s promise.
I have this old clock that belonged to my mom. My dad gave it to me years ago after mom passed away.
I have mixed feelings about having the clock. I love it because it was my mom’s, but it also holds some bad memories.
You see, it chimes. It counts out the hour and rings once on the half hour. Or at least it used to. Now you never know what number it will ring.
When my mother was at home dying from cancer, she asked for the clock to be unplugged. Hearing the hours count down really angered and frightened her.
Mom passed away. I decided I wanted to get the clock fixed so I could remember the good hours we had with her.
I took it to a local clock shop the other day.
“I know this has no particular value as a clock, but it was my mom’s and I need to get it fixed,” I said to the shop owner.
I went on to describe the problem.
“We get a lot of these in,” he told me. “Here’s what I do. We remove the clock works (机件) and replace it with a battery-operated movement (机芯) that chimes electronically,” he told me.
“You can’t fix this?”
“No, we don’t have the time nor the parts.”
I thanked him and went home. I called a few other places and was told the same thing.
“How incredibly sad,” I told the last one disappointedly.
How incredibly sad that we have become a society that replaces craftsmanship with convenience and easy fixes. We copy the original instead of creating something new. We duplicate (复制); we don’t originate (发明).
Sadly, the same goes for our attitude to life itself.
Each of us is an original, one of a kind. But we find it so much easier to copy another style than to develop our own.
We are wannabes (崇拜别人的人) rather than hey-world-look-at-mes.
We fail to see the real value in who we are, so we spend our lives trying to be someone else.
【小题1】 Why did the author decide to get the clock fixed?
| A．Because it was a really old and valuable clock. |
| B．Because it was the only thing that her mother had left her. |
| C．Because it brought her memories of being with her mother. |
| D．Because it left the author with mixed feelings. |
| A．The parts that the clock needed were electronic. |
| B．It would cost a lot to repair the clock. |
| C．They had never repaired a clock like this before. |
| D．They could only make the clock electronic. |
| A．criticize the irresponsible clock shop owners |
| B．criticize people who do not value things with a history |
| C．criticize people who do not have a creative attitude toward life |
| D．criticize people’s ignorance of traditional craftsmanship |
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