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上海千花

时间:2020-08-10 18:31:03 作者:逮书 浏览量:84800

上海千花How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.翻译家散文家施康强去世 享年77岁

I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

在照片中,哦,太阳很帅,贾斯帕正戴着耳机微笑,小小的泡芙又甜又可爱从小到大,陈学东可以说它仍然非常流畅,虽然据说他18岁时才看到自己的亲生母亲,但路上却伴随着一个大哥,这就是为什么粉丝们所谓的他是一个幸运的男孩将有专门的老师帮助回答问题虽然只有一条线,但刘江仍在试图找出解释它的最好方法球迷忍不住疯了,顾妍架,你还能弱吗?段落太低了,被谢震的眼睛盯上了但看完一场爱情真人秀后,两人互相展示非常甜蜜,吃着街头小吃,一起做饭,“逼”杜海涛挤痘等,而日常互动让观众感到“太甜蜜”此外,胡歌在《你好,之华》的突破性表现也令人印象深刻这次李亚鹏有远见卓识在冬天,大约三五个朋友一起去打高尔夫球一个小框架,媒体潦草地写道生日聚会上的一群女孩全都被男孩带走了然而,洪鑫将在今天结束,她有一半的责任这一次,成龙的大哥是最后的结局,将气氛带到了高潮她甚至说她从那天起就不想照顾彼此在进入房子之前,石恒聪蹲下来检查门口的盆栽植物,仿佛家务私密,没有年轻的主人架子这条消息在微博的微博超华中曝光两人一起完成了一次有意义的“成人仪式”上海千花很多粉丝都很想知道邢飞目前签下了哪家公司胖子和朋友看四:新人物小鸟“孟丽无边”新地图“冰感”溢出屏幕电影《愤怒的小鸟2》三只小鸟显得很可爱,他们想在电影“小猫头鹰剧场”中登场“向心中的英雄致敬,但他们用来制作道具的鸟蛋被海水冲走,看着”姐妹们“离家出走我真诚地希望未来的节目能够和谐,无休止的争吵将能够捕捉到这一刻,观众会感到困扰然而,由于过去几年透露了“非婚生子女”的传闻,山田隆志长期没有出现在黄金档案中,但现在他已经成立了自己的公司作为制片人,他期待着很快就能看到他的新作品

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?

(本文作者:皇若兰 ,见下图

女子自行“保守治疗” 乳腺肿瘤疯长成“篮球”

  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。。

What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。

(本文作者:穰建青)

3个月内 刘鹤两次强调了同一个问题

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!。

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!

(本文作者:舒聪) 武磊rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.,见下图

期货业大事件!2019年分类评价结果出炉 AA阵营大缩水

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。。

Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!

(本文作者:甘凝蕊) 英反对党领袖:新脱欧协议比特雷莎-梅的协议更糟

Part 14 Chapter 4  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。

(本文作者:葛民茗) It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.出生证公开出售!医院管理漏洞百出工作人员监守自盗

  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.。

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!

(本文作者:智弘阔) ,如下图

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

央行报告:逾两成成年人在银行以外平台借过款

I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!

(本文作者:方忆梅)

如下图

黑龙江警界反腐:2天内三市公安系统4人通报被查

It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。。

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.

(本文作者:端勇铭) ,如下图

多地楼市限购变化 为何都是“人才新政”?

Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.。

Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as toI had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?

(本文作者:米靖儿) 如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!,见图

上海千花团伙捕捞

  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!。

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!

(本文作者:利堂平) I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!

Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.

亚太药业业绩爆雷 拟计提商誉减值损失不超6.7亿

  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。。

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。

(本文作者:白若雁) Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as toComing through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.当当之母俞渝:恩怨分明女强人

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

(本文作者:蒿志旺)   讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

午评:港股恒指跌0.44% 中国平安跌超3%领跌蓝筹

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。

(本文作者:藤兴运)

中国社科院原院长:着力补齐全面小康的短板

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。。

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。

(本文作者:仍宏扬)

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  Part 14 Chapter 4昨日国债期货全线下跌 债市明年一季度或现配置良机

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。。

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.

(本文作者:黄天逸) 传58收购优信告吹,优信高管离职、部门裁撤、裁员

  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?    我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

(本文作者:宓凤华) PS5有新控制器有了 索尼环形手柄专利曝光

rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as to。

(本文作者:佟曾刚) 中超职业联盟11月底完成审批 年底之前挂牌成立

I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!。

How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.

(本文作者:汪米米) 新加坡部队练中文并提升与大陆合作 台湾玻璃心了

  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。。

Part 14 Chapter 4

(本文作者:向冷松) 韩国瑜拼选举 摆出三大“一反常态”

  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。。

  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。

(本文作者:多灵博) Part 14 Chapter 4鲍威尔:目前的货币政策立场“保持在适当位置”

I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.。

Part 14 Chapter 4Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!

(本文作者:盈无为) 北向资金结束6日净流入 机构:市场风格由进攻转防御

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as to  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

(本文作者:荆晴霞)

5G基站建设的烦心事:入场难、耗电多

  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?。

如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

(本文作者:寻汉毅)

上海千花Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?    我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  

梁建章:如果本世纪末中国人口少于美国 是福是祸?

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!。

Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

(本文作者:赏弘盛) Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。稠州银行2000万股股权打八折拍卖

Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。。

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。

(本文作者:罗淞) It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!Part 14 Chapter 4新华社:第七届世界军人运动会开幕式七大亮点

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!。

  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

(本文作者:藏小铭) 中国燃气跌逾2% 昨召开会议反驳早前沽空机构指控

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!Part 14 Chapter 4  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?

(本文作者:佟佳梦秋)

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.

1.音频社区荔枝递交招股书 拟融资1亿美元

  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。

(本文作者:乘德馨)

欧洲央行利率决议前瞻 鸽王德拉基的告别会即将开始

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!。

  还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.

(本文作者:果志虎) 英国石油Q3营收同比下滑14% IFRS每股收益超预期

I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!。

  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!

(本文作者:禹诺洲)   还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.茅台突破1200元/股 机构:看好“红十月”

rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.。

  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.

(本文作者:刁建义) 贾跃亭要破产 乐视网超百亿亏损重压下退市危局难解

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  

(本文作者:阚一博)   还有那些教师,起初几天我甚至同他们中的几个人握了手,当然在拱廊下擦身而过时也总少不了碰碰帽子相互致意。可是根本谈不到倾心交谈,也谈不到走到街角那儿一起喝上一杯。那简直是不可想象的,他们有许多人显得像是吓破了胆。总之我是属于另一阶层的,他们甚至不愿同我这种人分享一只虱子。只要一看到他们我就气不打一处来,所以一看到他们过来我就暗暗诅咒。我常常靠着一恨柱子站在那儿,嘴角上叼着一根烟,帽子扣在眼睛上,待他们走到听得见的地方我便狠狠啐一口唾沫,再抬起帽子来。我甚至懒得张口同他们打招呼,我只是从牙缝里迸出一句,“去你妈的,杰克!”说完就拉倒。如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。安倍内阁:小泉纯一郎之子资产居首 在妻子名下

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?。

  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.

(本文作者:裴钏海) 再探华强北比特币矿机江湖:区块链利好未带来暖意

I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  。

  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  

(本文作者:於阳冰) 普思资本股权被冻结 王思聪未来的路在何方?

How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as to

(本文作者:母阳成)   从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?人民大学报告建议降息为财政政策扩张创造有利环境

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。。

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。

(本文作者:泉秋珊) 北京推“科创30条” 建设全国科技创新中心

How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.

(本文作者:皇甫志祥)   我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

2.招商策略:区块链高度定调 新科技周期又一印证

I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!

(本文作者:碧鲁语柳)

区块链概念迅雷暴涨70% Q2云计算收入暴增41%

我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?

(本文作者:旅文欣) 对不起,我数学不好,不配参加双 11

I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.。

  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.

(本文作者:史威凡) 银保监会:商业银行应严格区分结构性存款与其他存款

  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?  I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.。

Part 14 Chapter 4  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。

(本文作者:樊月雷) 俄总统新闻秘书:埃尔多安或将于本月访俄

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。。

Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as toI felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!

(本文作者:宜轩)

3.  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?    空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?

What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.。

It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.

(本文作者:嵇鸿宝) I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  我讲的是:大象怎样做爱。这一招灵极了,第一天过后便再也没有空板凳了,头一堂英语课后他们都站在门口等我到来。我们相处得很好,他们提各种问题,像是屁也没学会一样。我让他们不停地问,我教他们提出更难以启齿的问题。“什么都尽可以问。”—这就是我的座右铭。在这儿我像一个来自无拘无束的精灵的国度里的全权大使,来这儿旨在创造狂热和激动的气氛。一位著名天文学家说,“在某些方面,物质世界像一个讲过的故事一样悄然逝去,像幻觉一样化为乌有。”看来这话表达了在学问的空面包篮后面大家的普遍看法,我自己却不信这话,我不信这伙王八蛋企图硬往我们肚子里塞的一切鬼话。  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?    我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。

What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.。

  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?

(本文作者:军迎月) Here was I, supposedly to spread the gospel of Franco-American amity - the emissary of a corpse who, after he had plundered right and left, after he had caused untold suffering and misery, dreamed of establishing universal peace. Pfui!

4.I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!。

格力混改尘埃落定:高瓴资本张磊入驻 董明珠仍居C位

  空着肚子在四合院里徘徊时我常常不由自主地觉得自己有一点儿痴狂,我有一点儿像“愚蠢的查理”那个可怜虫,只是没有奥代特?德?尚帕狄丰来跟我玩牌。有一半的日子里我得向学生讨烟抽,有时正上着课我就跟他们一起啃开了一点干儿面包。炉子总灭,所以我很快便用完了配给的木柴。要哄得管宿舍的办事员拿出一点儿木柴来是很不容易的事情,最后我对此恼火极了,便上街去捡柴,像一个阿拉伯人似的。我很惊奇,在第戎的街道上几乎捡不到能生火的柴。不过这些小小的征集木柴的远证将我带到了陌生的地域,我渐渐熟悉了据信是以一位名叫菲利贝尔?帕尔隆的已故音乐家命名的一条小街,那儿有好几家妓院。这块地方总是会叫人更快活一些,有做饭的味道、有晾出来的衣物。我偶尔也看到在妓院里闲荡的可怜的傻瓜,他们比在城镇中心见到的穷鬼还好一些,每次穿过一家百货店时我都会碰到这些穷鬼。为了取暖我常常这样穿来穿去,我估计他们也是为了达到同一目的这样做的。他们在寻找一个愿为他们买一杯咖啡的人,由于寒冷和孤独他们显得有一点儿痴呆,而当蓝色的夜幕降临时整个城市都显得有几分痴呆。你可以任选一个星期四在主要马路上散步,一直走下去也永远不会碰到一个胸襟宽大的人。六七万人—也许更多—穿着羊毛内衣,无处可去,无事可做。他们生产出一车车芥末。女子管弦乐队笨拙地奏出《快乐的寡妇》。大旅馆里提供银质服务。一座公爵的宫殿正在一块块、一点点地朽掉。树木在霜冻下发出尖厉的响声。木头鞋子不停地格登格登响。那所大学在纪念歌德的忌日,或者是诞辰日,我记不清到底是哪一个了(通常人们是纪念忌日的),总之这是一件蠢事,人人都在打哈欠、伸胳膊。我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.

(本文作者:练白雪) 网易有道今晚即将挂牌交易 回应裁员:受影响不足3%

It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!I felt sorry as hell for them. All morning plugging away on John Gilpin's Ride, and in the afternoon coming to me to practise a dead language. I thought of the good time I had wasted reading Virgil or wading through such incomprehensible nonsense as Hermann and Dorothea. The insanity of it! Learning, the empty breadbasket!  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。。

Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as toPart 14 Chapter 4

(本文作者:池雨皓) 国家邮政局:快递网点覆盖乡镇超3万个 覆盖率达95%

Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.

(本文作者:钱晓丝) NASA称实现了首次全女性宇航员太空行走(图)

Coming through the high driveway into the quadrangle a sense of abysmal futility always came over me. Outside bleak and empty; inside, bleak and empty. A scummy sterility hanging over the town, a fog of book-learning. Slag and cinders of the past. Around the interior courts were ranged the classrooms, little shacks such as you might see in the North woods, where the pedagogues gave free rein to their voices. On the blackboard the futile abracadabra which the future citizens of the republic would have to spend their lives forgetting. Once in a while the parents were received in the big reception room just off the driveway, where there were busts of the heroes of antiquity, such as Molière, Racine, Corneille, Voltaire, etc., all the scarecrows whom the cabinet ministers mention with moist lips whenever an immortal is added to the waxworks. (No bust of Villon, no bust of Rabelais, no bust of Rimbaud.) Anyway, they met here in solemn conclave, the parents and the stuffed shirts whom the State hires to bend the minds of the young. Always this bending process, this landscape gardening to make the mind more attractive. And the youngsters came too, occasionally - the little sunflowers who would soon be transplanted from the nursery in order to decorate the municipal grassplots. Some of them were just rubber plants easily dusted with a torn chemise. All of them jerking away for dear life in the dormitories as soon as night came on. The dormitories! where the red lights glowed, where the bell rang like a fire alarm, where the treads were hollowed out in the scramble to reach the education cells.。

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?Part 14 Chapter 4

(本文作者:箕海)   我有的是时间,却没有一文钱花。我一天只上两三个小时的会话课,以后就没有事了。教这些可怜虫英语又有什么用呢?    从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。Between sessions, if I had no book to read, I would go upstairs to the dormitory and chat with the pions. They were delightfully ignorant of all that was going on - especially in the world of art. Almost as ignorant as the students themselves. It was as if I had gotten into a private little madhouse with no exit signs. Sometimes I snooped around under the arcades, watching the kids marching along with huge hunks of bread stuck in their dirty mugs.I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。人民日报谈乡村振兴:用好脱贫经验

如果没有书可看,不上课时我就上楼到学监的宿舍里找他们闲聊。他们对周围发生的一切无知得可笑,尤其对于艺术界的事情,他们差不多同学生一样无知。我好像闯进了一所没有标明出口的、私人开办的小疯人院一样,有时我在拱廊下窥探,看着孩子们大步走过去,脏兮兮的缸子里插着大块大块的面包。It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。

(本文作者:诸晴) rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.。上海千花

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I was always hungry myself, since it was impossible for me to go to breakfast which was handed out at some ungodly hour of the morning, just when the bed was getting toasty. Huge bowls of blue coffee with chunks of white bread and no butter to go with it. For lunch, beans or lentils with bits of meat thrown in to make it look appetizing. Food fit for a chain gang, for rock breakers. Even the wine was lousy. Things were either diluted or bloated. There were calories, but no cuisine. M. l'Econome was responsible for it all. So they said. I don't believe that, either. He was paid to keep our heads just above the water line. He didn't ask if we were suffering from piles or carbuncles; he didn't inquire if we had delicate palates or the intestines of wolves. Why should he? He was hired at so many grams the plate to produce so many kilowatts of energy. Everything in terms of horse power. It was all carefully reckoned in the fat ledgers which the pasty faced clerks scribbled in morning, noon and night. Debit and credit, with a red line down the middle of the page.  按照惯例,一吃完晚饭就马上到城里去,除了留在宿舍里执勤的人。城市中有几家咖啡馆,都是又大又凄凉的大厅,第戎昏昏欲睡的商人们聚集在这儿玩牌、听音乐。咖啡馆里挺暖和,这是我能替它们说的最好的好话,座位也过得去。总有几个妓女转来转去,为了一杯啤酒、一杯咖啡她们会坐下来同你聊天。可是音乐糟透了,竞是这种音乐。在一个冬天的夜里,呆在第戎这样一个肮脏的地方,再也没有比一支法国管弦乐队的演奏更叫人疲乏、头痛的了。尤其是,这是一支悲枪的女子管弦乐队,它奏出的一切都像在尖叫、在放屁,其节奏很枯燥,像代数一样,又具有牙膏那种合乎卫生的稠度。这种呜咽怪叫一小时竟要收那么多钱,而且迟到的人活该倒霉!它演奏的调子是那么悲哀,似乎老欧几里得用后腿站着吞下了氢氰酸。思想的王国已由理智完全开拓,没有给音乐创作留下一点点地盘,只除了手风琴的空板条,风呼啸着从中穿过,将太空撕成了碎片。不过在这个边远的城镇里谈论音乐就像在死牢里做梦喝香槟一样荒唐,音乐是我最不在意的东西。我甚至连女人也不想了,因为一切都是那么令人沮丧、寒冷、荒芜、阴暗。头一天晚上回家时我注意到一家咖啡馆的门上刻着高康大的话。咖啡馆内部却像一个停尸所。不管怎样,还是往前走吧!。

Then there were the profs! During the first few days I got so far as toPart 14 Chapter 4

(本文作者:闭子杭)

山东舰航母入列的评论

  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。....

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How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。。

  讲《草叶集》、讲关税壁垒、讲美国的《独立宣言》、讲最近一次流氓团伙之间的火并?讲什么?我想知道要我讲什么。唉,告诉你们,我从未提起这些。我开门见山,讲了一堂爱情生理学。  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。

(本文作者:焦沛白) ....

外交部:尚无法确认英国39名遇难者是否为中国籍

rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.What did they expect me to talk about, I wonder? About Leaves of Grass, about the tariff walls, about the Declaration of Independence, about the latest gang war? What? Just what, I'd like to know. Well, I'll tell you - I never mentioned these things. I started right off the bat with a lesson in the psysiology of love.....

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It was the custom after dinner to go immediately to town, unless one was on duty in the dormitories. In the center of town were the cafés - huge, dreary halls where the somnolent merchants of Dijon gathered to play cards and listen to the music. It was warm in the cafés, that is the best I can say of them. The seats were fairly comfortable, too. And there were always a few whores about who, for a glass of beer or a cup of coffee, would sit and chew the fat with you. The music, on the other hand, was atrocious. Such music! On a winter's night, in a dirty hole like Dijon, nothing can be more harassing, more nerv-racking, than the sound of a French orchestra. Particularly one of those lugubrious female orchestras with everything coming in squeaks and farts, with a dry, algebraic rhythm and the hygienic consistency of toothpaste. A wheezing and scraping performed at so many francs the hour - and the devil take the hindmost! The melancholy of it! As if old Euclid had stood up on his hind legs and swallowed prussic acid. The whole realm of Idea so thoroughly exploited by the reason that there is nothing left of which to make music except the empty slats of the accordion, through which the wind whistles and tears the ether to tatters. However, to speak of music in connection with this putpost is like dreaming of champagne when you are in the death cell. Music was the least of my worries. I didn't even think of cunt, so dismal, so chill, so barren, so gray was it all. On the way home the first night I noticed on the door of a café an inscription from the Gargantua. Inside the café it was like a morgue. However, forward!我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!  我自己总是觉得饥饿难忍,因为我根本不可能赶上早饭。早饭总在早晨一个荒唐的时辰开,而那会儿睡在床上真是舒服极了。早餐是大碗大碗的发蓝的咖啡和一块块白面包,没有奶油可抹。午饭是菜豆或扁豆,撒进去一点点肉屑使它看起来开胃些。这种食物只适合给做苦工的囚犯吃、给砸石头的囚犯吃。酒也很糟糕,不是搀了水就是变了味。这些食物有热量,不过烹调不得法。据众人说,莱克诺姆先生应对此负责。这话我也不信,人家花钱雇他,目的是要他不叫我们饿死就行。他并不问我们是否有痔疮或疗疮,并不关心我们是嘴细还是嘴粗。为什么要关心?他只是受雇去用这么多克的菜肴生产这么多千瓦的能量,一切都是以马力来计算的。这全在脸色青白的办事员早晨、中午和晚上抄抄写写的厚帐本上仔细计算过,借、贷这两部分用一道红线从中间隔开。。

I thought of Carl who can recite Faust backwards, who never writes a book without praising the shit out of his immortal, incorruptible Goethe. And yet he hadn't sense enough to take on a rich cunt and get himself a change of underwear. There's something obscene in this love of the past which ends in breadlines and dugouts. Something obscene about this spiritual racket which permits an idiot to sprinkle holy water over Big Berthas and dreadnoughts and high explosives. Every man with a bellyful of the classics is an enemy to the human race.How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

(本文作者:权高飞) ....

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Roaming around the quadrangle with an empty belly most of the time I got to feel slightly mad. Like Charles the Silly, poor devil - only I had no Odette Champdivers with whom to play stinkfinger. Half the time I had to grub cigarettes from the students, and during the lessons sometimes I munched a bit of dry bread with them. As the fire was always going out on me I soon used up my allotment of wood. It was the devil's own time coaxing a little wood out of the ledger clerks. Finally I got so riled up about it that I would go out in the street and hunt for firewood, like an Arab. Astonishing how little firewood you could pick up in the streets of Dijon. However, these little foraging expeditions brought me into strange precincts. Got to know the little street named after a M. Philibert Papillon - a dead musician, I believe - where there was a cluster of whorehouses. It was always more cheerful hereabouts; there was the smell of cooking, and wash hanging out to dry. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the poor half wits who lounged about inside. They were better off than the poor devils in the center of town whom I used to bump into whenever I walked through a department store. I did that frequently in order to get warm. They were doing it for the same reason, I suppose. Looking for someone to buy them a coffee. They looked a little crazy, with the cold and the loneliness. The whole town looked a bit crazy when the blue of evening settled over it. You could walk up and down the main drive any Thursday in the week till doomsday and never meet an expansive soul. Sixty or seventy thousand people - perhaps more - wrapped in woolen underwear and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Turning out mustard by the carload. Female orchestras grinding out The Merry Widow. Silver service in the big hotels. The ducal palace rotting away, stone by stone, limb by limb. The trees screeching with frost. A ceaseless clatter of wooden shoes. The University celebrating the death of Goethe, or the birth, I don't remember which. (Usually it's the deaths that are celebrated.) Idiotic affair, anyway. Everybody yawning and stretching.我真替他们难过,整个上午苦苦地念《约翰?吉尔平的旅行》,到了下午又上我这儿来练习一种死去的语言。我想起自己浪费了多少时间读维吉尔的作品或是吃力地念《赫尔曼和多罗特哑》这类谁也看不懂的废话。真是疯了!学问是只空面包篮!。

I had plenty of time on my hands and not a sou to spend. Two or three hours of conversational lessons a day, and that was all. And what use was it, teaching these poor bastards English?  我来到了这儿,本是来传播法美友好福音的。我是一具僵尸的使者,他四处掠夺,酿成难以描述的痛苦和不幸,现在却梦想要建立世界和平了。呸!我真不明白,他们指望我讲什么?

(本文作者:青灵波) ....

辽宁号和山东号舷号

rival, a circumstance which left me twenty three francs to the good. With the exception of Renaud who sat beside me, the others have faded out of my memory; they belonged to that category of colorless individuals who make up the world of engineers, architects, dentists, pharmacists, teachers, etc. There was nothing to distinguish them from the clods whom they would later wipe their boots on. They were zeros in every sense of the word, ciphers who form the nucleus of a respectable and lamentable citizenry. They ate with their heads down and were always the first to clamor for a second helping. They slept soundly and never complained; they were neither gay nor miserable. The indifferent ones whom Dante consigned to the vestibule of Hell. The upper crusters.How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.....

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  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。  从马路上一路走进四合院,我总会产生一种深切的徒劳无功的感觉。院外是一片凄凉和空虚,院里也是一片凄凉和空虚。这座城镇笼罩在一种卑下的贫乏和啃书本的浓雾中,学的全是以往的渣滓。教室分布在里院四周,很像在北方森林中见到的小屋,学究们就在这儿尽情大发宏论。黑板上写着毫无用处的胡言乱语,法兰西共和国的未来公民得花毕生时间才能忘掉这些胡话。有时在马路边的大接待室里接待家长们,那儿摆着古代英雄的半身塑像,诸如莫里哀、拉辛、柯奈、伏尔泰之流。无论何时又一个不朽的人被摆进蜡像馆后,内阁部长们总要用湿润的嘴唇提到所有这些稻草人(没有维荣的,拉伯雷的和兰波的胸像)。总之,家长们和这些衬衣里塞了东西的蜡像在这庄严肃穆的会议上碰到一起了。国家雇了这些蜡像来矫正年轻人的思想,总是这样矫正,总是用这种美化庭院的方法使思想变得更有吸引力。小孩子们偶尔也上这儿来,人们很快便会把这些小向日葵从托儿所里移植出去装饰城市的草坪。有些只是橡皮植物,只消用一件破衬衣就可以很便当地掸去上面的尘土,一到晚上他们便急急忙忙没命地逃进宿舍里去了。宿舍!这儿亮着红灯,铃像消防队的警报一样呼啸,这儿的楼梯踏板由于人们常一窝蜂涌向教室被踩出了空洞。。

  我又想起卡尔,他能把《浮士德》倒背如流,他每写一本书都要在里面拼命恭维不朽的、千古流芳的歌德。尽管如此,卡尔却缺乏常识,找不到一个阔女人,无法弄一身换洗内衣。这种以排队领救济食品和住防空洞告终的、对过去的眷恋中有一种讨人厌的感伤,这种精神上的喧哗是令人讨厌的,它竟许可一个白痴往德国大炮、无畏战舰和高效炸药上洒圣水。每一个满腹经纶的人都是人类的敌人。How the elephants make love - that was it! It caught like wildfire. After the first day there were no more empty benches. After that first lesson in English they were standing at the door waiting for me. We got along swell together. They asked all sorts of questions, as though they had never learned a damned thing. I let them fire away. I taught them to ask still more ticklish questions. Ask anything! - that was my motto. I'm here as a plenipotentiary from the realm of free spirits. I'm here to create a fever and a ferment. "In some ways," says an eminent astronomer, "the material universe appears to be passing away like a tale that is told, dissolving into nothingness like a vision." That seems to be the general feeling underlying the empty breadbasket of learning. Myself, I don't believe it. I don't believe a fucking thing these bastards try to shove down our throats.

(本文作者:符彤羽) ....

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