Even though I knew it was unlikely that I would win American Idol, I decided to have a crack at it anyway and try out for it. (VOA)

A . delivered B . uttered C . voiced D . spoke

A . Point-to-point B . Broadcast multicast C . Nonbroadcast multicast D . Backbone area 0 E . Virtual Link

A . The last default - network statement will always be preferred. B . A route to the 140.140.0.0 network does not exist in the routing table. C . Default - network selection will always prefer the statement with the lowest IP address. D . A router will load balance across multiple default - networks; repeatedly issuing the show ip route command would show the gateway of last resort changing between the two networks.

A . It's so cold B . It's so wet C . It's so hot D . It's so windy

A . insisted on B . insisted at C . insisted that D . insisted i

A . insisted on B . insisted at C . insisted that D . insisted i

A.对 B.错

A．intricate B．disparate C．compassionate D．passionate

A.Some B.Any C.No one D.None

A．terminal B．durable C．persistent D．bearable

A、hasty generalization B、post hoc C、guilt by association D、oversimplification

I had an experience recently with someone admitting to me that he had made a mistake fifteen years ago. He told me he had been the manager of a grocery store in the neighborhood where I grew up, and he asked me if I remembered the egg cartons. Then he related an incident and I began to remember vaguely the incident he was de scribing. I was about eight years old at the time, and I had gone into the store with my mother to do the weekly grocery shopping. On that particular clay, I must have found my way to the dairy food department where the incident tool place. (80) There must have been a special sale on eggs that day be cause there was an impressive display of eggs in dozen and half-dozen cartons. The cartons were stacked three or four feet high. I must have stopped in front of a display to admire the stacks. Just then a woman came by pushing her grocery cart and knocked off the stacks of cartons. For some reason, I decided it was up to me to put the display back together; so I went to work. The manager heard the noise and came rushing over to see what had happened. When he appeared, I was on my knees inspecting some of the cartons to see if any of the eggs were broken, but to him it looked as though I was culprit(罪犯). He severely scolded me and wanted me to pay for any broken eggs. I protested my innocence and tried to explain, but it did no good. Even though I quickly forgot all about the incident, apparently the manager did not. How old was the author when he wrote this article？ A．About 8. B．About 18. C．About 23. D．About 15.

The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called "the way it .was." This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway's conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career--always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene. The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway is the sense of place. "Unless you have geography, background," he once told George Anteil, "You have nothing." You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have s carefully charted out she geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six o' clock of a Spanish dawn, you watch the bulls running from the corrals at the Puerta Rochapea through the streets of Pamplona towards the bullring. "When I woke it was the sound of the rocket exploding that announced the release of the bulls from the corrals at the edge of town. Down below the narrow street was empty. All the balconies were crowded with people. Suddenly a crowd came down the street. They were all running, packed close together. They passed along and up street toward the bullring and behind them came more men running faster, and then some stragglers who ere really running. Behind them was a little bare space, and then the bulls, galloping, tossing their heads up and down. It all went out of sight around the corner. One man fell, rolled to the gutter, and lay quiet. But the bulls went right on and did not notice him. They were all running together." This landscape is as morning-fresh as a design in India ink on clean white paper. First is the bare white street, seem from above, quiet and empty. Then one sees the first packed clot of runners. Behind these are the thinner ranks of those who move faster because they are closer to bulls. Then the almost comic stragglers, who are "really running." Brilliantly behind these shines the "little bare space," a desperate margin for error. Then the clot of running bulls-closing the design, except of course for the man in the gutter making himself, like the designer's initials, as inconspicuous as possible. According to the author, Hemingway's primary purpose in telling a story was ______. A．to construct a well-told story that the reader would thoroughly enjoy. B．To construct a story that would reflect truths that were not particular to a specific historical period C．To begin from reality but to allow his imagination to roam from "the way it was" to "the way it might have been" D．To report faithfully reality as Hemingway had experienced it.

It was hard to say "I love you' to someone who didn't say it back. After so many disappointing times when I would flinch from his sharp rebuff I began to withdraw my own warm displays of affection. I stopped reaching out or hugging or kissing him. At first this act of self-restraint was conscious. Later it would become automatic, and finally it was ingrained. The love between us ran strong but silent. One rare evening out, when my mother had successfully coaxed my usually asocial father to join us for a night in the town, we were sitting in an elegant restaurant that boasted a small but lively band. When it struck up a familiar waltz tune, I glanced at my father. He suddenly appeared small and shrunken to me not powerful and intimidating as I had always perceived him. All the old hurts welled up inside but I decided to dare one last time. "Dad, You know I've never ever danced with you. Even when I was a little girl, I begged you, but you never wanted to! How about right now？ " I waited for the usual brusque reply that would once again slice my heart into ribbons. But instead he considered me thoughtfully and then a surprising twinkle appeared in his eye." I have been remiss in my duties as a father then." he uncharacteristically joked. "Let's hit the floor and I'll show you just what kind of moves an old geezer like me still can make!" My father took me in his arms. Since earliest childhood I hadn't been enfolded in his embrace. I felt overcome by emotion. As we danced, I looked up at my father intently but he avoided my gaze. His eyes swept the dance floor, the other diners and the members of the band. His scrutiny took in everyone and everything but me. I felt that he must already be regretting his decision to join me for a dance; he seemed uncomfortable being physically close to me. "Dad," I finally whispered tears in my eyes. "Why is it so hard for you to look at me？" At last his eyes dropped to my face and he studied me intently. "Because I love you so much", he whispered back. "Because I love you. " I was struck dumb by his response. It wasn't what I had anticipated. But it was of course exactly what I needed to hear. His own eyes were misty and he was blinking. I had always known that he loved me, I just hadn't understood that his vast emotion had frightened him and made him mute. His taciturn manner hid the deep emotions flowing inside. "I love you too, Dad" I whispered back softly. He stumbled over the next few words" I ... I'm sorry that I'm not demonstrative." Then he said "I've realized that I don't show what I feel. My parents never hugged or kissed me and I guess I learned how not to from them. It's... it's.., hard for me. I'm probably too old to change my ways now but just know how much I love you." "Okay" I smiled. When the dance ended, I brought Dad back to Mom waiting at the table and excused myself to the ladies' room. I was gone just a few minutes but during my absence everything changed. There were screams and shouts and scrapings of chairs as I made my way back across the room. I wondered what the commotion was all about. As I approached the table I saw it was all about Dad. He was slumped in his chair ashen gray. A doctor in the restaurant rushed over to handle the emergency and an ambulance was called but it was really all too late. He was gone. Instantly they said. What had suddenly made me after so many years of steeling myself against his constant rejection ask hi A．He was a bad-tempered man because of the disease he had suffered. B．He was an asocial man with little idea of using body language. C．He was an affectionate father who seldom joked. D．He was a loving father without much warm demonstration of love.

A．As B．When C．Even though D．In case

A．such , that B．so, that C．such, as D．enough, as