I went to the beach and got plenty of rest.（） You looked tired last time I saw you. -题库考试答案搜索网

I went to the beach and got plenty of rest.（） You looked tired last time I saw you.

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2022-01-01 11:54

A、I hope so
B、Really
C、I'm glad you did
D、The sound was nice

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标签：专升本英语

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Most people have no idea of the hard work and worry that gointothe collecting of those fascinating birds and animals that they pay to see in the zoo.One of the questions that is always asked of me is 1 I became an animal collector in the first 2.The answer is that I have always been interested in animals and zoos.According to my parents, the first word I was able to say with any 3 was not the conventional “mamma” or “daddy”,4 the word “zoo”, which I would 5 over and over again with a shrill 6 until someone, ingroupsto 7 me up, would take me to the zoo.When I 8 a little older, we lived in Greece and I had a great 9 of pets, ranging from owls to seahorses, and I spent all my spare time 10 the countryside in search of fresh specimens to 11 to my collection of pets.12 on I went for a year to the City Zoo, as a student 13 , to get experience of the large animals, such as lions, bears, bison and ostriches,14 were not easy to keep at home.When I left, I 15 had enough money of my own to be able to 16 my first trip and I have been going 17 ever since then.Though a collector's job is not an easy one and is full of 18 ,it is certainly a job which will appeal 19 all those who love animals and 20.

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Passage 2Last year I lived in Chile for half a year as an exchange student with the American Field Service. Compared to most visitors,I didn't travel much. I lived with a Chilean family and had the responsibilities of any Chilean teenager.I went to school every day, in uniform. I had good days andbad days and days that I didn't understand.Chuquicamata, my host community, is a mining camp in the Atacama Desert. There is no disco, no shopping center, no museum or beach. Driveways must be watered daily to keep the dust down.When I arrived here,I was scared. It was so different from the urban middle-class America I was accustomed to. There were lost dogs on the streets, and a constant cloud of brick-colored dust came from the mine. There was no downtown, few smoothly paved streets, and litle to do for amusement. The people worked extremely hard. Rain was a rare phenomenon; earthquakes and windstorms were frequent.I had studied Spanish for two and a half years and was always one of the best students in my class. But in my first week in Chile I was barely able to communicate and desperate for one person to whom I could explain my shock.I couldn't speak the thoughts in my head-and there were so many.Most exchange students experience this like me. Culture shock presents itself in everything from increased aggression toward the people to lack of appetite or weight gain and depression.I was required to overcome all difficulties. Being an exchange student is not easy.As time passed, everything changed.I began to forget words in English and to dream in Spanish and love Chilean food.I got used to not depending on expensive things for fun. Fun in Chuquicamata was being with people. And I took math, physics, chemistry, biology, Spanish, art, and philosophy.But the sacrifices were nothing compared to the gain.I learned how to accept as well as to succeed in another culture.I now know the world is my community and have a much deeper understanding of both myself and others.The author went to Chile last year with the purpose of ________.

The author mentions the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach to ______.

（）is entitled to enter into，with a shipper，any agreement，stipulation，condition，reservation or exception as to the responsibility and liability of the carrier or the ship for the loss of or damage to，or in connection with，the custody and care and handling of the goods prior to the loading on，and subsequent to the discharge from，the ship on which the goods are carried by sea.

The easy way out isn’t always easiest. I learned that lesson when I decided to treat Doug, my husband of one month, to a special meal. I glanced through my cook book and chose a menu which included homemade bread. Knowing the bread would take time. I started on it as soon as Doug left for work. As I was not experienced in cooking, I thought if a dozen was good, two dozen would be better, so I doubled everything. As Doug loved oranges, I also opened a can of orange and poured it all into the bowl. Soon there was a sticky dough covered with ugly yellowish marks. Realizing I had been defeated, I put the dough in the rubbish bin outside so I wouldn’t have to face Doug laughing at my work. I went on preparing the rest of the meal, and, when Doug got home, we sat down to Cornish chicken with rice. He tried to enjoy the meal but seemed disturbed. Twice he got up and went outside, saying he thought he heard a noise. The third time he left, I went to the windows to see what he was doing. Looking out, I saw Doug standing about three feet from the rubbish bin, holding the lid up with a stick and looking into the container. When I came out of the house, he dropped the stick and explained that there was something alive in out rubbish bin. Picking up the stick again, he held the lid up enough for me to see. I felt cold. But I stepped closer and looked harder. Without doubt it was my work. The hot sun had caused the dough to double in size and the fermenting yeast made the surface shake and sigh as though it were breathing. I had to admit what the living thing was and why it was there. I don't know who was more embarrassed by the whole thing—Doug or me. The writer’s purpose in writing this story is（）

The easy way out isn’t always easiest. I learned that lesson when I decided to treat Doug, my husband of one month, to a special meal. I glanced through my cook book and chose a menu which included homemade bread. Knowing the bread would take time. I started on it as soon as Doug left for work. As I was not experienced in cooking, I thought if a dozen was good, two dozen would be better, so I doubled everything. As Doug loved oranges, I also opened a can of orange and poured it all into the bowl. Soon there was a sticky dough covered with ugly yellowish marks. Realizing I had been defeated, I put the dough in the rubbish bin outside so I wouldn’t have to face Doug laughing at my work. I went on preparing the rest of the meal, and, when Doug got home, we sat down to Cornish chicken with rice. He tried to enjoy the meal but seemed disturbed. Twice he got up and went outside, saying he thought he heard a noise. The third time he left, I went to the windows to see what he was doing. Looking out, I saw Doug standing about three feet from the rubbish bin, holding the lid up with a stick and looking into the container. When I came out of the house, he dropped the stick and explained that there was something alive in out rubbish bin. Picking up the stick again, he held the lid up enough for me to see. I felt cold. But I stepped closer and looked harder. Without doubt it was my work. The hot sun had caused the dough to double in size and the fermenting yeast made the surface shake and sigh as though it were breathing. I had to admit what the living thing was and why it was there. I don't know who was more embarrassed by the whole thing—Doug or me. What made the dough in the bin looks frighting?（）

The easy way out isn’t always easiest. I learned that lesson when I decided to treat Doug, my husband of one month, to a special meal. I glanced through my cook book and chose a menu which included homemade bread. Knowing the bread would take time. I started on it as soon as Doug left for work. As I was not experienced in cooking, I thought if a dozen was good, two dozen would be better, so I doubled everything. As Doug loved oranges, I also opened a can of orange and poured it all into the bowl. Soon there was a sticky dough covered with ugly yellowish marks. Realizing I had been defeated, I put the dough in the rubbish bin outside so I wouldn’t have to face Doug laughing at my work. I went on preparing the rest of the meal, and, when Doug got home, we sat down to Cornish chicken with rice. He tried to enjoy the meal but seemed disturbed. Twice he got up and went outside, saying he thought he heard a noise. The third time he left, I went to the windows to see what he was doing. Looking out, I saw Doug standing about three feet from the rubbish bin, holding the lid up with a stick and looking into the container. When I came out of the house, he dropped the stick and explained that there was something alive in out rubbish bin. Picking up the stick again, he held the lid up enough for me to see. I felt cold. But I stepped closer and looked harder. Without doubt it was my work. The hot sun had caused the dough to double in size and the fermenting yeast made the surface shake and sigh as though it were breathing. I had to admit what the living thing was and why it was there. I don't know who was more embarrassed by the whole thing—Doug or me. Why did the woman’s attempt at making the bread turn out to be unsuccessful?（）

The easy way out isn’t always easiest. I learned that lesson when I decided to treat Doug, my husband of one month, to a special meal. I glanced through my cook book and chose a menu which included homemade bread. Knowing the bread would take time. I started on it as soon as Doug left for work. As I was not experienced in cooking, I thought if a dozen was good, two dozen would be better, so I doubled everything. As Doug loved oranges, I also opened a can of orange and poured it all into the bowl. Soon there was a sticky dough covered with ugly yellowish marks. Realizing I had been defeated, I put the dough in the rubbish bin outside so I wouldn’t have to face Doug laughing at my work. I went on preparing the rest of the meal, and, when Doug got home, we sat down to Cornish chicken with rice. He tried to enjoy the meal but seemed disturbed. Twice he got up and went outside, saying he thought he heard a noise. The third time he left, I went to the windows to see what he was doing. Looking out, I saw Doug standing about three feet from the rubbish bin, holding the lid up with a stick and looking into the container. When I came out of the house, he dropped the stick and explained that there was something alive in out rubbish bin. Picking up the stick again, he held the lid up enough for me to see. I felt cold. But I stepped closer and looked harder. Without doubt it was my work. The hot sun had caused the dough to double in size and the fermenting yeast made the surface shake and sigh as though it were breathing. I had to admit what the living thing was and why it was there. I don't know who was more embarrassed by the whole thing—Doug or me. When Doug went out the third time, the woman looked out of the window because she was（）

The easy way out isn’t always easiest. I learned that lesson when I decided to treat Doug, my husband of one month, to a special meal. I glanced through my cook book and chose a menu which included homemade bread. Knowing the bread would take time. I started on it as soon as Doug left for work. As I was not experienced in cooking, I thought if a dozen was good, two dozen would be better, so I doubled everything. As Doug loved oranges, I also opened a can of orange and poured it all into the bowl. Soon there was a sticky dough covered with ugly yellowish marks. Realizing I had been defeated, I put the dough in the rubbish bin outside so I wouldn’t have to face Doug laughing at my work. I went on preparing the rest of the meal, and, when Doug got home, we sat down to Cornish chicken with rice. He tried to enjoy the meal but seemed disturbed. Twice he got up and went outside, saying he thought he heard a noise. The third time he left, I went to the windows to see what he was doing. Looking out, I saw Doug standing about three feet from the rubbish bin, holding the lid up with a stick and looking into the container. When I came out of the house, he dropped the stick and explained that there was something alive in out rubbish bin. Picking up the stick again, he held the lid up enough for me to see. I felt cold. But I stepped closer and looked harder. Without doubt it was my work. The hot sun had caused the dough to double in size and the fermenting yeast made the surface shake and sigh as though it were breathing. I had to admit what the living thing was and why it was there. I don't know who was more embarrassed by the whole thing—Doug or me. Why did the woman put the dough in the rubbish bin?（）

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