章节正文
found her. On the grains of credulity she will not feed; in the net of
wishes her feet cannot be held; in the air of these valleys she will not
breathe. The birds you have caught are of the brood of Lies. Lovely and
beautiful, but still lies; Truth knows them not."
And the hunter cried out in bitterness--
"And must I then sit still, to be devoured of this great burning?"
And the old man said,
"Listen, and in that you have suffered much and wept much, I will tell you
what I know. He who sets out to search for Truth must leave these valleys
of superstition forever, taking with him not one shred that has belonged to
them. Alone he must wander down into the Land of Absolute Negation and
Denial; he must abide there; he must resisttemptation; when the light
breaks he must arise and follow it into the country of dry sunshine. The
mountains of stern reality will rise before him; he must climb them; beyond
them lies Truth."
"And he will hold her fast! he will hold her in his hands!" the hunter
cried.
Wisdom shook his head.
"He will never see her, never hold her. The time is not yet."
"Then there is no hope?" cried the hunter.
"There is this," said Wisdom: "Some men have climbed on those mountains;
circle above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there, in
those high regions, some have chanced to pick up on the ground one white
silver feather, dropped from the wing of Truth. And it shall come to
pass," said the old man, raising himself prophetically and pointing with
his finger to the sky, "it shall come to pass, that when enough of those
silver feathers shall have been gathered by the hands of men, and shall
have been woven into a cord, and the cord into a net, that in that net
Truth may be captured. Nothing but Truth can hold Truth."
The hunter arose. "I will go," he said.
But wisdom detained him.
"Mark you well--who leaves these valleys never returns to them. Though he
should weep tears of blood seven days and nights upon the confines, he can
never put his foot across them. Left--they are left forever. Upon the
road which you would travel there is no reward offered. Who goes, goes
freely--for the great love that is in him. The work is his reward."
"I go" said the hunter; "but upon the mountains, tell me, which path shall
I take?"
"I am the child of The-Accumulated-Knowledge-of-Ages," said the man; "I can
walk only where many men have trodden. On these mountains few feet have
passed; each man strikes out a path for himself. He goes at his own peril:
my voice he hears no more. I may follow after him, but cannot go before
him."
Then Knowledge vanished.
And the hunter turned. He went to his cage, and with his hands broke down
the bars, and the jagged iron tore his flesh. It is sometimes easier to
build than to break.
One by one he took his plumed birds and let them fly. But when he came to
his dark-plumed bird he held it, and looked into its beautiful eyes, and
the bird uttered its low, deep cry--"Immortality!"
And he said quickly: "I cannot part with it. It is not heavy; it eats no
food. I will hide it in my breast; I will take it with me." And he buried
it there and covered it over with his cloak.
But the thing he had hidden grew heavier, heavier, heavier--till it lay on
his breast like lead. He could not move with it. He could not leave those
valleys with it. Then again he took it out and looked at it.
"Oh, my beautiful! my heart's own!" he cried, "may I not keep you?"
He opened his hands sadly.
"Go!" he said. "It may happen that in Truth's song one note is like yours;
but I shall never hear it."
Sadly he opened his hand, and the bird flew from him forever.
Then from the shuttle of Imagination he took the thread of his wishes, and
threw it on the ground; and the empty shuttle he put into his breast, for
the thread was made in those valleys, but the shuttle came from an unknown
country. He turned to go, but now the people came about him, howling.
"Fool, hound, demented lunatic!" they cried. "How dared you break your
cage and let the birds fly?'
The hunter spoke; but they would not hear him.
"Truth! who is she? Can you eat her? can you drink her? Who has ever seen
her? Your birds were real: all could hear them sing! Oh, fool! vile
reptile! atheist!" they cried, "you pollute the air."
"Come, let us take up stones and stone him," cried some.
"What affair is it of ours?" said others. "Let the idiot go," and went
away. But the rest gathered up stones and mud and threw at him. At last,
when he was bruised and cut, the hunter crept away into the woods. And it
was evening about him.
He wandered on and on, and the shade grew deeper. He was on the borders
now of the land where it is always night. Then he stepped into it, and
there was no light there. With his hands he groped; but each branch as he
touched it broke off, and the earth was covered with cinders. At every step
his foot sank in, and a fine cloud of impalpable ashes flew up into his
face; and it was dark. So he sat down upon a stone and buried his face in
his hands, to wait in the Land of Negation and Denial till the light came.
And it was night in his heart also.
Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose and closed
about him. A fine, imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great drops
gathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbness
crept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights came
dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came.
So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before him
at last. From the centre of the radiating flame in one looked out a
woman's face, laughing, dimpled, with streaming yellow hair. In the centre
of the other were merry laughing ripples, like the bubbles on a glass of
wine. They danced before him.
"Who are you," asked the hunter, "who alone come to me in my solitude and
darkness?"
"We are the twins Sensuality," they cried. "Our father's name is Human-
Nature, and our mother's name is Excess. We are as old as the hills and
rivers, as old as the first man; but we never die," they laughed.
"Oh, let me wrap my arms about you!" cried the first; "they are soft and
warm. Your heart is frozen now, but I will make it beat. Oh, come to me!"
"I will pour my hot life into you," said the second; "your brain is numb,
and your limbs are dead now; but they shall live with a fierce free life.
Oh, let me pour it in!"
"Oh, follow us," they cried, "and live with us. Nobler hearts than yours
have sat here in this darkness to wait, and they have come to us and we to
them; and they have never left us, never. All else is a delusion, but we
are real, we are real, we are real. Truth is a shadow; the valleys of
superstition are a farce: the earth is of ashes, the trees all rotten; but
we--feel us--we live! You cannot doubt us. Feel us how warm we are! Oh,
come to us! Come with us!"
Nearer and nearer round his head they hovered, and the cold drops melted on
his forehead. The bright light shot into his eyes, dazzling him, and the
frozen blood began to run. And he said:
"Yes, why should I die here in this awful darkness? They are warm, they
melt my frozen blood!" and he stretched out his hands to take them.
Then in a moment there arose before him the image of the thing he had
loved, and his hand dropped to his side.
"Oh, come to us!" they cried.
But he buried his face.
"You dazzle my eyes," he cried, "you make my heart warm; but you cannot
give me what I desire. I will wait here--wait till I die. Go!"
He covered his face with his hands and would not listen; and when he looked
up again they were two twinkling stars, that vanished in the distance.
And the long, long night rolled on.
All who leave the valley of superstition pass through that dark land; but
some go through it in a few days, some linger there for months, some for
years, and some die there.
At last for the hunter a faint light played along the horizon, and he rose
to follow it; and he reached that light at last, and stepped into the broad
sunshine. Then before him rose the mighty" target="_blank" title="a.万能的；全能的">almighty mountains of Dry-facts and
Realities. The clear sunshine played on them, and the tops were lost in
the clouds. At the foot many paths ran up. An exultant cry burst from the
hunter. He chose the straightest and began to climb; and the rocks and
ridges resounded with his song. They had exaggerated; after all, it was
not so high, nor was the road so steep! A few days, a few weeks, a few
months at most, and then the top! Not one feather only would he pick up;
he would gather all that other men had found--weave the net--capture Truth-
-hold her fast--touch her with his hands--clasp her!
He laughed in the merry sunshine, and sang loud. Victory was very near.
Nevertheless, after a while the path grew steeper. He needed all his
breath for climbing, and the singing died away. On the right and left rose
huge rocks, devoid of lichen or moss, and in the lava-like earth chasms
yawned. Here and there he saw a sheen of white bones. Now too the path
began to grow less and less marked; then it became a mere trace, with a
footmark here and there; then it ceased altogether. He sang no more, but
struck forth a path for himself, until it reached a mighty wall of rock,
smooth and without break, stretching as far as the eye could see. "I will
rear a stair against it; and, once this wall climbed, I shall be almost
there," he said bravely; and worked. With his shuttle of imagination he
dug out stones; but half of them would not fit, and half a month's work
would roll down because those below were ill chosen. But the hunter worked
on, saying always to himself, "Once this wall climbed, I shall be almost
there. This great work ended!"
At last he came out upon the top, and he looked about him. Far below
rolled the white mist over the valleys of superstition, and above him
towered the mountains. They had seemed low before; they were of an
immeasurable height now, from crown to foundation surrounded by walls of
rock, that rose tier above tier in mightycircles. Upon them played the
eternal sunshine. He uttered a wild cry. He bowed himself on to the
earth, and when he rose his face was white. In absolute silence he walked
on. He was very silent now. In those high regions the rarefied air is
hard to breathe by those born in the valleys; every breath he drew hurt
him, and the blood oozed out from the tips of his fingers. Before the next
wall of rock he began to work. The height of this seemed infinite, and he
said nothing. The sound of his tool rang night and day upon the iron rocks
into which he cut steps. Years passed over him, yet he worked on; but the
wall towered up always above him to heaven. Sometimes he prayed that a
little moss or lichen might spring up on those bare walls to be a companion
to him; but it never came.
And the years rolled on; he counted them by the steps he had cut--a few for
a year--only a few. He sang no more; he said no more, "I will do this or
that"--he only worked. And at night, when the twilight settled down, there
looked out at him from the holes and crevices in the rocks strange wild
faces.
"Stop your work, you lonely man, and speak to us," they cried.
"My salvation is in work, if I should stop but for one moment you would
creep down upon me," he replied. And they put out their long necks
further.
"Look down into the crevice at your feet," they said. "See what lie there-
-white bones! As brave and strong a man as you climbed to these rocks."
And he looked up. He saw there was no use in striving; he would never hold
Truth, never see her, never find her. So he lay down here, for he was very
tired. He went to sleep forever. He put himself to sleep. Sleep is very
tranquil. You are not lonely when you are asleep, neither do your hands
ache, nor your heart. And the hunter laughed between his teeth.
"Have I torn from my heart all that was dearest; have I wandered alone in
the land of night; have I resisted temptation; have I dwelt where the voice
of my kind is never heard, and laboured alone, to lie down and be food for
you, ye harpies?"
He laughed fiercely; and the Echoes of Despair slunk away, for the laugh of
a brave, strong heart is as a death blow to them.
Nevertheless they crept out again and looked at him.
"Do you know that your hair is white?" they said, "that your hands begin to
tremble like a child's? Do you see that the point of your shuttle is
gone?--it is cracked already. If you should ever climb this stair," they
said, "it will be your last. You will never climb another."
And he answered, "I know it!" and worked on.
The old, thin hands cut the stones ill and jaggedly, for the fingers were
stiff and bent. The beauty and the strength of the man was gone.
At last, an old, wizened, shrunken face looked out above the rocks. It saw
wishes her feet cannot be held; in the air of these valleys she will not
breathe. The birds you have caught are of the brood of Lies. Lovely and
beautiful, but still lies; Truth knows them not."
And the hunter cried out in bitterness--
"And must I then sit still, to be devoured of this great burning?"
And the old man said,
"Listen, and in that you have suffered much and wept much, I will tell you
what I know. He who sets out to search for Truth must leave these valleys
of superstition forever, taking with him not one shred that has belonged to
them. Alone he must wander down into the Land of Absolute Negation and
Denial; he must abide there; he must resisttemptation; when the light
breaks he must arise and follow it into the country of dry sunshine. The
mountains of stern reality will rise before him; he must climb them; beyond
them lies Truth."
"And he will hold her fast! he will hold her in his hands!" the hunter
cried.
Wisdom shook his head.
"He will never see her, never hold her. The time is not yet."
"Then there is no hope?" cried the hunter.
"There is this," said Wisdom: "Some men have climbed on those mountains;
circle above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there, in
those high regions, some have chanced to pick up on the ground one white
silver feather, dropped from the wing of Truth. And it shall come to
pass," said the old man, raising himself prophetically and pointing with
his finger to the sky, "it shall come to pass, that when enough of those
silver feathers shall have been gathered by the hands of men, and shall
have been woven into a cord, and the cord into a net, that in that net
Truth may be captured. Nothing but Truth can hold Truth."
The hunter arose. "I will go," he said.
But wisdom detained him.
"Mark you well--who leaves these valleys never returns to them. Though he
should weep tears of blood seven days and nights upon the confines, he can
never put his foot across them. Left--they are left forever. Upon the
road which you would travel there is no reward offered. Who goes, goes
freely--for the great love that is in him. The work is his reward."
"I go" said the hunter; "but upon the mountains, tell me, which path shall
I take?"
"I am the child of The-Accumulated-Knowledge-of-Ages," said the man; "I can
walk only where many men have trodden. On these mountains few feet have
passed; each man strikes out a path for himself. He goes at his own peril:
my voice he hears no more. I may follow after him, but cannot go before
him."
Then Knowledge vanished.
And the hunter turned. He went to his cage, and with his hands broke down
the bars, and the jagged iron tore his flesh. It is sometimes easier to
build than to break.
One by one he took his plumed birds and let them fly. But when he came to
his dark-plumed bird he held it, and looked into its beautiful eyes, and
the bird uttered its low, deep cry--"Immortality!"
And he said quickly: "I cannot part with it. It is not heavy; it eats no
food. I will hide it in my breast; I will take it with me." And he buried
it there and covered it over with his cloak.
But the thing he had hidden grew heavier, heavier, heavier--till it lay on
his breast like lead. He could not move with it. He could not leave those
valleys with it. Then again he took it out and looked at it.
"Oh, my beautiful! my heart's own!" he cried, "may I not keep you?"
He opened his hands sadly.
"Go!" he said. "It may happen that in Truth's song one note is like yours;
but I shall never hear it."
Sadly he opened his hand, and the bird flew from him forever.
Then from the shuttle of Imagination he took the thread of his wishes, and
threw it on the ground; and the empty shuttle he put into his breast, for
the thread was made in those valleys, but the shuttle came from an unknown
country. He turned to go, but now the people came about him, howling.
"Fool, hound, demented lunatic!" they cried. "How dared you break your
cage and let the birds fly?'
The hunter spoke; but they would not hear him.
"Truth! who is she? Can you eat her? can you drink her? Who has ever seen
her? Your birds were real: all could hear them sing! Oh, fool! vile
reptile! atheist!" they cried, "you pollute the air."
"Come, let us take up stones and stone him," cried some.
"What affair is it of ours?" said others. "Let the idiot go," and went
away. But the rest gathered up stones and mud and threw at him. At last,
when he was bruised and cut, the hunter crept away into the woods. And it
was evening about him.
He wandered on and on, and the shade grew deeper. He was on the borders
now of the land where it is always night. Then he stepped into it, and
there was no light there. With his hands he groped; but each branch as he
touched it broke off, and the earth was covered with cinders. At every step
his foot sank in, and a fine cloud of impalpable ashes flew up into his
face; and it was dark. So he sat down upon a stone and buried his face in
his hands, to wait in the Land of Negation and Denial till the light came.
And it was night in his heart also.
Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose and closed
about him. A fine, imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great drops
gathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbness
crept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights came
dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came.
So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before him
at last. From the centre of the radiating flame in one looked out a
woman's face, laughing, dimpled, with streaming yellow hair. In the centre
of the other were merry laughing ripples, like the bubbles on a glass of
wine. They danced before him.
"Who are you," asked the hunter, "who alone come to me in my solitude and
darkness?"
"We are the twins Sensuality," they cried. "Our father's name is Human-
Nature, and our mother's name is Excess. We are as old as the hills and
rivers, as old as the first man; but we never die," they laughed.
"Oh, let me wrap my arms about you!" cried the first; "they are soft and
warm. Your heart is frozen now, but I will make it beat. Oh, come to me!"
"I will pour my hot life into you," said the second; "your brain is numb,
and your limbs are dead now; but they shall live with a fierce free life.
Oh, let me pour it in!"
"Oh, follow us," they cried, "and live with us. Nobler hearts than yours
have sat here in this darkness to wait, and they have come to us and we to
them; and they have never left us, never. All else is a delusion, but we
are real, we are real, we are real. Truth is a shadow; the valleys of
superstition are a farce: the earth is of ashes, the trees all rotten; but
we--feel us--we live! You cannot doubt us. Feel us how warm we are! Oh,
come to us! Come with us!"
Nearer and nearer round his head they hovered, and the cold drops melted on
his forehead. The bright light shot into his eyes, dazzling him, and the
frozen blood began to run. And he said:
"Yes, why should I die here in this awful darkness? They are warm, they
melt my frozen blood!" and he stretched out his hands to take them.
Then in a moment there arose before him the image of the thing he had
loved, and his hand dropped to his side.
"Oh, come to us!" they cried.
But he buried his face.
"You dazzle my eyes," he cried, "you make my heart warm; but you cannot
give me what I desire. I will wait here--wait till I die. Go!"
He covered his face with his hands and would not listen; and when he looked
up again they were two twinkling stars, that vanished in the distance.
And the long, long night rolled on.
All who leave the valley of superstition pass through that dark land; but
some go through it in a few days, some linger there for months, some for
years, and some die there.
At last for the hunter a faint light played along the horizon, and he rose
to follow it; and he reached that light at last, and stepped into the broad
sunshine. Then before him rose the mighty" target="_blank" title="a.万能的；全能的">almighty mountains of Dry-facts and
Realities. The clear sunshine played on them, and the tops were lost in
the clouds. At the foot many paths ran up. An exultant cry burst from the
hunter. He chose the straightest and began to climb; and the rocks and
ridges resounded with his song. They had exaggerated; after all, it was
not so high, nor was the road so steep! A few days, a few weeks, a few
months at most, and then the top! Not one feather only would he pick up;
he would gather all that other men had found--weave the net--capture Truth-
-hold her fast--touch her with his hands--clasp her!
He laughed in the merry sunshine, and sang loud. Victory was very near.
Nevertheless, after a while the path grew steeper. He needed all his
breath for climbing, and the singing died away. On the right and left rose
huge rocks, devoid of lichen or moss, and in the lava-like earth chasms
yawned. Here and there he saw a sheen of white bones. Now too the path
began to grow less and less marked; then it became a mere trace, with a
footmark here and there; then it ceased altogether. He sang no more, but
struck forth a path for himself, until it reached a mighty wall of rock,
smooth and without break, stretching as far as the eye could see. "I will
rear a stair against it; and, once this wall climbed, I shall be almost
there," he said bravely; and worked. With his shuttle of imagination he
dug out stones; but half of them would not fit, and half a month's work
would roll down because those below were ill chosen. But the hunter worked
on, saying always to himself, "Once this wall climbed, I shall be almost
there. This great work ended!"
At last he came out upon the top, and he looked about him. Far below
rolled the white mist over the valleys of superstition, and above him
towered the mountains. They had seemed low before; they were of an
immeasurable height now, from crown to foundation surrounded by walls of
rock, that rose tier above tier in mightycircles. Upon them played the
eternal sunshine. He uttered a wild cry. He bowed himself on to the
earth, and when he rose his face was white. In absolute silence he walked
on. He was very silent now. In those high regions the rarefied air is
hard to breathe by those born in the valleys; every breath he drew hurt
him, and the blood oozed out from the tips of his fingers. Before the next
wall of rock he began to work. The height of this seemed infinite, and he
said nothing. The sound of his tool rang night and day upon the iron rocks
into which he cut steps. Years passed over him, yet he worked on; but the
wall towered up always above him to heaven. Sometimes he prayed that a
little moss or lichen might spring up on those bare walls to be a companion
to him; but it never came.
And the years rolled on; he counted them by the steps he had cut--a few for
a year--only a few. He sang no more; he said no more, "I will do this or
that"--he only worked. And at night, when the twilight settled down, there
looked out at him from the holes and crevices in the rocks strange wild
faces.
"Stop your work, you lonely man, and speak to us," they cried.
"My salvation is in work, if I should stop but for one moment you would
creep down upon me," he replied. And they put out their long necks
further.
"Look down into the crevice at your feet," they said. "See what lie there-
-white bones! As brave and strong a man as you climbed to these rocks."
And he looked up. He saw there was no use in striving; he would never hold
Truth, never see her, never find her. So he lay down here, for he was very
tired. He went to sleep forever. He put himself to sleep. Sleep is very
tranquil. You are not lonely when you are asleep, neither do your hands
ache, nor your heart. And the hunter laughed between his teeth.
"Have I torn from my heart all that was dearest; have I wandered alone in
the land of night; have I resisted temptation; have I dwelt where the voice
of my kind is never heard, and laboured alone, to lie down and be food for
you, ye harpies?"
He laughed fiercely; and the Echoes of Despair slunk away, for the laugh of
a brave, strong heart is as a death blow to them.
Nevertheless they crept out again and looked at him.
"Do you know that your hair is white?" they said, "that your hands begin to
tremble like a child's? Do you see that the point of your shuttle is
gone?--it is cracked already. If you should ever climb this stair," they
said, "it will be your last. You will never climb another."
And he answered, "I know it!" and worked on.
The old, thin hands cut the stones ill and jaggedly, for the fingers were
stiff and bent. The beauty and the strength of the man was gone.
At last, an old, wizened, shrunken face looked out above the rocks. It saw
- hunter [´hʌntə]
n.猎人；猎狗；猎马 (初中英语单词) - wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- absolute [´æbsəlu:t] a.绝对的 n.绝对 (初中英语单词)
- resist [ri´zist] v.抵抗；对抗；抵制 (初中英语单词)
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- reality [ri´æliti] n.现实(性)；真实；逼真 (初中英语单词)
- wisdom [´wizdəm] n.智慧，聪明，才智 (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- feather [´feðə] n.羽毛 (初中英语单词)
- reward [ri´wɔ:d] n.&v.报答；报酬；奖赏 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- excess [´ekses] n.超过 a.过分的 (初中英语单词)
- frozen [´frəuzn] freeze 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- linger [´liŋgə] v.逗留；留恋；拖延 (初中英语单词)
- horizon [hə´raizən] n.地平线；范围；视野 (初中英语单词)
- victory [´viktəri] n.胜利，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- foundation [faun´deiʃən] n.建立；基金；地基 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- superstition [,su:pə´stiʃən, ,sju:-] n.迷信(行为) (高中英语单词)
- temptation [temp´teiʃən] n.引诱，诱惑(物) (高中英语单词)
- solitude [´sɔlitju:d] n.孤独；寂寞；荒凉 (高中英语单词)
- rotten [´rɔtn] a.腐烂的；腐朽的 (高中英语单词)
- dazzle [´dæz(ə)l] vt.使茫然 n.炫耀 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- bravely [´breivli] ad.勇敢地；毅然 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- infinite [´infinit] a.无限的，无穷的 (高中英语单词)
- salvation [sæl´veiʃən] n.救助；拯救 (高中英语单词)
- almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] a.万能的；全能的 (英语四级单词)
- lichen [´laikən] n.地衣，青苔 (英语四级单词)
- crevice [´krevis] n.裂缝，罅隙 (英语四级单词)
- credulity [kri´dju:liti] n.轻信 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- pollute [pə´lu:t] vt.弄脏；败坏，玷污 (英语六级单词)
- denial [di´naiəl] n.否认；拒绝 (英语六级单词)
- delusion [di´lu:ʒən] n.欺骗；幻觉；迷惑 (英语六级单词)
- devoid [di´vɔid] a.无...的，缺...的 (英语六级单词)
- cracked [krækt] a.有裂缝的；碎的；粗哑 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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