题目列表(包括答案和解析)
It is impossible for ________ little room．
so, such
so, so
such a, so
such, such
It is impossible for____________ little room.
|
A．so, such |
B．so, so |
C．such a, so |
D．such, such |
When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.
“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an elegant, hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it. But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Silent for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.”
And perhaps she wasn’t saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.
【小题1】GG moved in with her daughter because____.
| A．she wanted to live with a large family |
| B．she was not able to live on her own due to her weakness |
| C．her husband passed away |
| D．she thought it was the children’s obligation to take care of her |
| A．Because she saw her great granddaughter’s doll. |
| B．Because she recalled her dead parents. |
| C．Because she was surrounded by her offspring. |
| D．Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season. |
| A．GG’s doll was important and was a symbol of many things. |
| B．GG showed great respect for his husband’s love. |
| C．GG missed the great old days she spent with her family. |
| D．GG was grateful for her long life. |
| A．She envied her sister all her life. |
| B．She felt guilty for breaking GG’s doll and decided to go. |
| C．She left home at a young age. |
| D．She died of some disease at a young age. |
| A．Because she was clever. | B．Because she was loving. |
| C．Because she was sensitive. | D．Because she was imaginative. |
| A．treating the elderly well is moral |
| B．it is impossible to copy the exact doll for the elderly |
| C．love, the permanent rhythm of life, will always remain in the elderly’s heart |
| D．physical comfort from children rather than psychological care is important |
When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.
“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an elegant, hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it. But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Silent for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.”
And perhaps she wasn’t saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.
1.GG moved in with her daughter because____.
A．she wanted to live with a large family
B．she was not able to live on her own due to her weakness
C．her husband passed away
D．she thought it was the children’s obligation to take care of her
2.Why did GG become very emotional on a December afternoon?
A．Because she saw her great granddaughter’s doll.
B．Because she recalled her dead parents.
C．Because she was surrounded by her offspring.
D．Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season.
3.What can we infer from Paragraph 5?
A．GG’s doll was important and was a symbol of many things.
B．GG showed great respect for his husband’s love.
C．GG missed the great old days she spent with her family.
D．GG was grateful for her long life.
4.What happened to GG’s baby sister?
A．She envied her sister all her life.
B．She felt guilty for breaking GG’s doll and decided to go.
C．She left home at a young age.
D．She died of some disease at a young age.
5.Why did Meagan’s mum feel proud of her daughter?
A．Because she was clever. B．Because she was loving.
C．Because she was sensitive. D．Because she was imaginative.
6.The main idea of the passage is that ____.
A．treating the elderly well is moral
B．it is impossible to copy the exact doll for the elderly
C．love, the permanent rhythm of life, will always remain in the elderly’s heart
D．physical comfort from children rather than psychological care is important
The job was done，and it was time for a last cigarette．Eddie began tapping the pockets of his overalls，looking for the new packet of Marlboro he had bought that morning．It was not there．
It was as he swung around to look in his toolbox for the cigarettes that Eddie saw the lump（肿块）．Right in the middle of the brand new bright red carpet，there was a lump．A lump，the size of packet of cigarettes．
“I've done it again!” said Eddie angrily．“I've left the cigarettes under the carpet!”
He had done this once before，and taking up and refitting the carpet had taken him two hours．Eddie was determined that he was not going to spend another two hours in this house．He decided to get rid of the lump another way．It would mean wasting a good packet of cigarettes，nearly full，but anything was better than taking up the whole carpet and fitting it again．He turned to his toolbox for a large hammer．
Eddie didn't want to damage the carpet itself，so he took a block of wood and placed it on top of the lump．Then he began to beat the block of wood as hard as he could．He kept beating，hoping Mrs. Vanbrugh wouldn't hear the noise and come to see what he was doing．It would be difficult to explain why he was hammering the middle of her beautiful new carpet．The lump was beginning to flatten out．
After three or four minutes，the job was finally finished．Eddie picked up his tools，and began to walk out to his car．Mrs. Vanbrugh accompanied him．She seemed a little worried about something．
“Young man，while you were working today，you didn't by any chance see any sign of Armand，did you? Armand is my bird．I let him out of his cage，you see，this morning，and he's disappeared．He likes to walk around the house，and he usually just comes back to his cage after an hour or so and gets right in．Only today he didn't come back．He's never done such a thing．．．”
“No，madam．I haven't seen him anywhere．” said Eddie，as he reached to start the car．
And he saw his packet of Marlboro cigarettes on the panel，where he had left it at lunchtime…
And he remembered the lump in the carpet…
1．What did Eddie want to do when he had finished fitting the carpet?
A．To have a cigarette． B．To hammer the carpet flat．
C．To put back his tools． D．To start work in the dining room．
2．Why didn't Eddie take out the thing under the carpet?
A．It was impossible for him to take up the carpet once it was fitted．
B．He didn't need the cigarettes because he had some more in the car．
C．It would take too long to take up the carpet and refit it．
D．He intended to come hack and remove the lump the next day．
3．What did Eddie do with the hammer?
A．He drove nails into the lump． B．He fixed his toolbox
C．He refitted the carpet． D．He flattened the lump．
4．Mrs. Vanbrugh worried that _________．
A．her pet was nowhere to be found B．fitting the carpet would be expensive
C．Eddie would smoke in the house D．Eddie hadn't done a proper job
5．What was really under the carpet?
A．The packet of cigarettes． B．Eddie's hammer．
C．A lump of wood． D．The missing pet．
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