We saw piles of goods containers lie on the port, away．
A．waited to be carried． B．to wait to carry
C．waiting to be carried D．and waited for carrying
科目：高中英语 来源：东北三省2011届京海夏季大联考英语试题(卷A) 题型：054
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科目：高中英语 来源：2010~2011福建省中高二上学期第一学段考试英语试卷 题型：阅读理解
My friend took his colleague to s
ee an art exhibition in north London.
The show was basically piles of breeze blocks (煤渣砖) forming armchair and sofa shapes, painted in primary colors.
Seeing these, the colleague said, “You brought me all the way out here to see this pile of junk when we could have been having a nice lunch?” He continued his rant about the work all the way back to the office.
When they got there my friend said, “You said you don’t like the work, but you haven’t stopped talking about it since you first saw it.”
Whether he liked it or not, he could not forget it.
If the artwork is fresh and new, you can’t expect to like it straightaway, because you have nothing to compare it with.
The effort of coming to terms with things you do not understand makes them all the more valuable to you when you do grasp them.
Good art speaks for itself. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.
So the next time you go to an art show, or look at anything for that matter, observe what effect it has on you and try to form your own opinion.
That way, you become the c
ritic and not a mouthpiece for someone else’s opinions.
【小题1】What does the colleague think about the art exhibition?
| A．He feels it a waste of time going to the exhibition. |
| B．He is very interested in the work shown on the exhibition. |
| C．He is disappointed that art is abused on the exhibition. |
D．He thinks his understanding about art is far better than the au thor of the work on the show. |
| A．praise | B．hatred | C．complaint | D．misunderstanding |
| A．Good art speaks for itself. |
| B．Good art doesn’t mean you have to like it. |
| C．It matters more what impression a piece of art work leaves on you. |
| D．Learn to be a mouthpiece for someone’s opinion matters more. |
r give for going to an art show?| A．Like it whether it is good or not. |
| B．Don’t compare it with anything. |
| C．Observe its effect and form your own opinion . |
| D．Be a good mouthpiece. |
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科目：高中英语 来源：2014届浙江嘉兴第一中学高三上期摸底英语卷（解析版） 题型：阅读理解
It was an autumn morning shortly after my husband and I moved into our first house. Children were upstairs unpacking , and I was looking out of the window at my father moving around mysteriously on the front lawn. My parents lived nearby ,and Dad had visited us several times already. “What are you doing out there?” I called to him .He looked up, smiling. “I’m making you a surprise.” Knowing my father, I thought it could be just about anything. A self-employed jobber, he was always building things out of odds and ends. When we were kids, he always created something surprising for us.
Today, however, Dad would say no more, and caught ups in the busyness of our new life, I eventually forgot about his surprise. Until one gloomy day the following March when I glanced out of the window. Any yet… I saw a dot of blue across the yard. I headed outside for a closer look. They were crocuses (番红花), throughout the front lawn. Lavender, blue, yellow and my favorite pink ---- little faces moved up and down in the cold wind.
Dad! I smiled, remembering the things he had secretly planted last autumn. He knew how the darkness and dullness of winter always got me down. What could have been more perfectly timely to my needs?
My father’s crocuses bloomed each spring for the next four or five seasons, bringing the same assurance every time they arrived: hard times was almost over. Hold on, keep going, light is coming soon.
Then a spring came with only half the usual blooms. The next spring there were none. I missed the crocuses. I would ask Dad to come over and plant new bulbs. But I never did.
He died suddenly one October day. My family was in deep sorrow, leaning on our faith. I missed him terribly.
Four years passed, and on a dismal spring afternoon I was driving back when I found myself feeling depressed. “You’ve got the winter depression again and you get them every year.” I told myself.
It was Dad’s birthday, and I found myself thinking about him. This was not unusual --- my family often talked about him, remembering how he lived his faith. Once I saw him give his coat to a homeless man.
Suddenly I slowed as I turned into our driveway. I stopped and stared at the lawn. And there on the muddy grass and small gray piles of melting snow, bravely waving in the wind, was one pink crocus.
How could a flower bloom from a bulb more than 18 years old, one that had not blossomed in over a decade? But there was the crocus. Tears filled my eyes as I realized its significance.
Hold on, keep going, light is coming soon. The pink crocus bloomed for only a day. But it built my faith for a lifetime.
1.According to the first three paragraphs, we learn that _________.
A. the writer was unpacking when her father was making the surprise
B. the writer knew what the surprise was because she knew her father
C. it was not the first time that the writer’s father had made a surprise
D. it kept bothering the writer not knowing what the surprise was
2.Which of the following would most probably be the worst time of the year as seen by the writer?
A. Spring. B. Summer. C. Autumn. D. Winter.
3.Which of the following is NOT true, according to the passage?
A. The writer’s father planted the crocus to lift her low spirit.
B. The crocuses bloomed each spring before the writer’s father died.
C. The writer often thought about her father since her father died.
D. The writer’s father died some years after he planted the crocus.
4.The writer’s father should be best described as_________.
A. a full-time gardener with skillful hands
B. a part-time jobber who loved flowers
C. a kind-hearted man who lived with faith
D. an ordinary man with doubts in his life
5.Crocus was viewed as the symbol of _________ by the writer.
A. faith B. family C. love D. friendship
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科目：高中英语 来源：2011浙江杭州二中高三5月模拟英语试题 题型：阅读理解
When I was fourteen, I earned money in the summer by cutting lawns（草坪）, and within a few weeks I had built up a body of customers. I got to know people by the flowers they planted that I had to remember not to cut down, by the things they lost in the grass or struck in the ground on purpose. I reached the point with most of them when I knew in advance what complaint was about to be spoken, which particular request was most important. And I learned something about the measure of my neighbors by their preferred method of payment: by the job, by the month--- or not at all.
Mr. Ballou fell into the last category, and he always had a reason why. On one day, he had no change for a fifty, on another he was flat out of checks, on another, he was simply out when I knocked on his door. Still, except for the money apart, he was a nice enough guy, always waving or tipping his hat when he’d see me from a distance. I figured him for a thin retirement check, maybe a work-relayed injury that kept him from doing his own yard work. Sure, I kept track of the total, but I didn’t worry about the amount too much. Grass was grass, and the little that Mr. Ballou’s property comprised didn’t take long to trim (修剪).
Then, one late afternoon in mid-July, the hottest time of the year, I was walking by his house and he opened the door, mentioned me to come inside. The hall was cool, shaded, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light.
“ I owe you,” Mr Ballou, “ but…”
I thought I’d save him the trouble of thinking of a new excuse. “ No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
“ The bank made a mistake in my account,” he continued, ignoring my words. “ It will be cleared up in a day or two . But in the meantime I thought perhaps you could choose one or two volumes for a down payment.
He gestured toward the walls and I saw that books were stacked (堆放) everywhere. It was like a library, except with no order to the arrangement.
“ Take your time,” Mr. Ballou encouraged. “Read, borrow, keep. Find something you like. What do you read?”
“ I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I generally read what was in front of me, what I could get from the paperback stack at the drugstore, what I found at the library, magazines, the back of cereal boxes, comics. The idea of consciously seeking out a special title was new to me, but, I realized, not without appeal--- so I started to look through the piles of books.
“ You actually read all of these?”
“ This isn’t much,” Mr. Ballou said. “ This is nothing, just what I’ve kept, the ones worth looking at a second time.”
“ Pick for me, then.”
He raised his eyebrows, cocked his head, and regarded me as though measuring me for a suit. After a moment, he nodded, searched through a stack, and handed me a dark red hardbound book, fairly thick.
“ The Last of the Just,” I read. “ By Andre Schwarz-Bart. What’s it about?” “ You tell me,” he said. “ Next week.”
I started after supper, sitting outdoors on an uncomfortable kitchen chair. Within a few pages, the yard, the summer, disappeared, and I was plunged into the aching tragedy of the Holocaust, the extraordinary clash of good, represented by one decent man, and evil. Translated from French, the language was elegant, simple, impossible to resist. When the evening light finally failed I moved inside, read all through the night,
To this day, thirty years later, I vividly remember the experience. It was my first voluntary encounter with world literature, and I was stunned (震惊) by the concentrated power a novel could contain. I lacked the vocabulary, however, to translate my feelings into words, so the next week. When Mr. Ballou asked, “ Well?” I only replied, “ It was good?”
“ Keep it, then,” he said. “ Shall I suggest another?”
I nodded, and was presented with the paperback edition of Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa ( a very important book on the study of the social and cultural development of peoples--- anthropology (人类学) ).
To make two long stories short, Mr. Ballou never paid me a cent for cutting his grass that year or the next, but for fifteen years I taught anthropology at Dartmouth College. Summer reading was not the innocent entertainment I had assumed it to be, not a light-hearted, instantly forgettable escape in a hammock (吊床) ( though I have since enjoyed many of those, too). A book, if it arrives before you at the right moment, in the proper season, at an internal in the daily business of things, will change the course of all that follows.
1..The author thought that Mr. Ballou was ______________.
A. rich but mean B. poor but polite
C. honest but forgettable D. strong but lazy
2.. Before his encounter with Mr. Ballou, the author used to read _____________.
A. anything and everything B. only what was given to him
C. only serious novels D. nothing in the summer
3.. The author found the first book Mr. Ballou gave him _____________.
A. light-heated and enjoyable B. dull but well written
C. impossible to put down D. difficult to understand
4.. From what he said to the author we can gather that Mr. Ballou _______________.
A. read all books twice B. did not do much reading
C. read more books than he kept D. preferred to read hardbound books
5.. The following year the author _______________.
A. started studying anthropology at college B. continued to cut Mr. Ballou’s lawn
C. spent most of his time lazing away in a hammock
D. had forgotten what he had read the summer before
6.. The author’s main point is that _____________.
A. summer jobs are really good for young people
B. you should insist on being paid before you do a job
C. a good book can change the direction of your life
D. a book is like a garden carried in the pocket.
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