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填空题
I forgot (remind) ____ her that my coat buttons need to be sewn on.
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参考解析
解析：
本题考查forget的用法。句意：我忘了提醒她我上衣的扣子需要缝上。forget to do sth.表示“忘记去做某事”；forget doing sth.表示“忘记已经做过某事”。
本题考查forget的用法。句意：我忘了提醒她我上衣的扣子需要缝上。forget to do sth.表示“忘记去做某事”；forget doing sth.表示“忘记已经做过某事”。
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I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
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Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
What did mother do with her daughter's letter asking forgiveness?A.She had never received the letter.
B.For years, she often talked about the letter.
C.She didn't forgive her daughter at all in all her life.
D.She read the letter again and again till she died.
考题
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
The passage shows that _______
A.mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter
B.mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done
C.mother cared much about her daughter in words
D.mother wrote to her daughter in careful words
考题
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
The writer began to love her mother's deskA.after mother died
B.before she became a writer
C.when she was a child
D.when mother gave it to her
考题
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
What's the best title of the passage?
A.My Letter to Mother
B.Mother and Children
C.Mv Mother's Desk
D.Talks hetween Mother and Me
考题
根据下列内容，回答186-190题。
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mothersat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I de-cided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during herfinal illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said a-gain, "it's for Elizabeth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. Butas a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.
And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy fami-ly. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she didforgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disap-pointment, then little interest and, finally, peace--it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't besure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and ! could stop try-ing to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased thatwriting was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photoof my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letterasks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
The writer began to love her mother's desk__________.A.after mother died
B.before she became a writer
C.when she was a child
D.when mother gave it to her
考题
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
The word "gulf" in the passage means _______
A.deep understanding between the old and the young
B.different ideas between the mother and the daughter
C.free talks between mother and daughter
D.part of the sea going far in land
考题
When you are little,the whole world feels like a big playground.I was living in Conyers,Georgia the summer it all happened.I was a second grader,but my best friend Stephanie was only in the first grade.Both of our parents were at work and most of the time they let us go our own way.
It was a hot afternoon and we decided to have an adventure in Stephanie′s basement.As I opened the basement door,before us lay the biggest room,full of amazing things like guns,dolls,and old clothes.I ran downstairs,and spotted a red steel can.It was paint.I looked beyond it and there lay even more paint in bright colors like purple,orange,blue and green.
"Stephanie,I just found us a project,for the day.Get some paintbrushes.We are fixing to paint."She screamed with excitement as I told her of my secret plans and immediately we got to work.We gathered all the brushes we could find and moved all of our materials to my yard.There on the road in front of my house,we painted bit stripes（条纹）of colors across the pavement（人行道）.Stripe by stripe,our colors turned into a beautiful rainbow.It was fantastic!
The sun was starting to sink.I saw a car in the distance and jumped up as I recognized the car.It was my mother.I couldn′t wait to show her my masterpiece.The car pulled slowly into the drive way and from the look on my mother′s face,I could tell that I was in deep trouble.My mother shut the car door and walked towards me.Her eyes glaring,she shouted,"What in the world were you thinking?I understood when you made castles out of leaves,and climbed the neighbors′trees,but this!Come inside right now!"I stood there glaring back at her for a minute,angry because she had insulted（侮辱）my art.
"Now go to clean it up!"Mother and I began cleaning the road.Tears ran down my cheeks as I saw my beautiful rainbow turn into black cement.
Though years have now passed,I still wonder where my?rainbow?has gone.I wonder if,maybe when I get older,I can find my rainbow and never have to brush it away.I guess we all need sort of rainbow to brighten our lives from time to time and to keep our hopes and dreams colorful.
What did the writer want to do when his mother came home?A.To introduce Stephanie to her.
B.To prevent her from seeing his painting.
C.To put the materials back in the yard.
D.To show his artwork to her.
考题
单选题—I forgot to bring my dictionary. Could I use yours?—Yes, you ______.A
canB
mustC
couldD
should
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