Rest of the story

Xem 1-20 trên 23 kết quả Rest of the story
  • Isn’t it wonderful when something you’ve been given not only meets more than your expectations, but greets you like an old friend whose eyes are on fire because her life has taken a great turn, and she wants to share it with you, because, after all, you are her great friend? That is the experience I had when reading Susan Solovic’s wonderful new book, the book you now hold between your hopeful hands.

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  • We did—and found the rest of the girl mech. All of her, that is, except the head. The working parts were lightly oiled and wrapped in cotton waste while the other members and sections of the trunk were neatly packed in cardboard boxes with labels like Solenoids FB978 or Transistors Lot X45—the kind of boxes robots bought their parts in. We even found a blue dress in one of them. "Check her class and series numbers," Min suggested. I could have saved myself the trouble. They'd been filed off. "Something's funny here," I said. "We'd better keep an eye on...

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  • The perfect calm of an early spring dawn lies over headland and sea--hardly a ripple stirs the blue cheek of the bay. The softness of departing night lies upon the bosom of the Mediterranean like the dew upon the heart of a flower. A silent dawn. Veils of transparent greys and purples and mauves still conceal the distant horizon. Breathless calm rests upon the water and that awed hush which at times descends upon Nature herself when the finger of Destiny marks an eventful hour.

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  • Research on poverty in the United States tends to look at the large picture, using national databases to provide information for Federal policymakers. As a result, its conclusions generally argue that the poor are not much different from the rest of the population. They have less money, but their poverty status will usually not be permanent as their life circumstances change ( Sawhill, 1988; Levy and Murnane, 1992). While these statements may be true as a broad generalization, the experience of the inner cities suggests that the story in the ghettos is very different.

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  • These can be "integrated" tasks based on summaries of newspaper articles or news stories from television or radio, or they can be "independent" tasks based on students' own experience. Make sure everyone gets a chance to talk, and get the rest of the class involved in asking the speaker questions about the presentations.

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  • THEY came down to Mars ahead of the rest because Larkin had bought an unfair advantage—a copy of the Primary Report. There were seven of them, all varying in appearance, but with one thing in common; in the eyes of each glowed the greed for Empire. They came down in a flash of orange tail-fire and

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  • Greg landed at San Francisco International Airport at 8 p.m., but by the time he’d made it to the front of the customs line, it was after midnight. He’d emerged from first class, brown as a nut, unshaven, and loose-limbed after a month on the beach in Cabo (scuba diving three days a week, seducing French college girls the rest of the time). When he’d left the city a month before, he’d been a stoop-shouldered, potbellied wreck. Now he was a bronze god, drawing admiring glances from the stews at the front of the cabin....

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  • Ten thousand persons in New York looked skyward at the first rumble of sound. The flash caught them that way, seared them to cinder, liquefied their eyeballs, brought their vitals boiling out of the fissures of their bodies. They were the lucky ones. The rest died slowly, their monument the rubble which had once been a city. Of all that, Case Damon knew nothing. Rocketing up in the self-service elevator to his new cloud-reaching apartment in San Francisco, his thoughts were all on the girl who would be waiting for him. "She loves me, she loves me not," he said to himself.

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  • "That hand didn't move, did it?" Edwardson asked, standing at the port, looking at the stars. "No," Morse said. He had been staring fixedly at the Attison Detector for over an hour. Now he blinked three times rapidly, and looked again. "Not a millimeter." "I don't think it moved either," Cassel added, from behind the gunfire panel. And that was that. The slender black hand of the indicator rested unwaveringly on zero. The ship's guns were ready, their black mouths open to the stars. A steady hum filled the room. It came from the Attison Detector, and the sound was...

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  • THE LITTLE MAN had a head like an old-fashioned light bulb and a smile that seemed to say he had secrets from the rest of the world. He didn't talk much, just an occasional "Oh," "Mm" or "Ah." Krayton figured he must be all right, though. After all he'd been sent to Computer City by the Information Department itself, and his credentials must have been checked in a hundred ways and places. "Essentially each computer is the same," said Krayton, "but adjusted to translate problems into the special terms of the division it serves." Krayton had a pleasant, well-behaved impersonal...

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  • It is the ambition of all nations which enjoy a literary culture to possess a harmonious and vivid narrative of their own past history. And it is of inestimable value to any people to obtain such a narrative, which shall comprehend all epochs, be true to fact and, while resting on thorough research, yet be attractive to the reader; for only by this aid can the nation attain to a perfect self-consciousness, and feeling the pulsation of its life throughout the story, become fully acquainted with its own origin and growth and character....

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  • The prevailing idea of the origin and history of Punch has hitherto rested mainly on three productions: the "Memories" of George Hodder, "Mr. Punch's Origin and Career," and Mr. Joseph Hatton's delightful but fragmentary papers, entitled "The True Story of Punch.

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  • NO MATTER HOW SELF-ASSURED WE ARE, in a fraction of a second, our lives can be utterly devastated. As in the biblical story of Jonah, the unknowable forces of trauma and loss can swallow us whole, thrusting us deep into their cold dark belly. Entrapped yet lost, we become hopelessly frozen by terror and helplessness. Early in the year 2005,1 walked out of my house into a balmy Southern California morning. The gende warmth and soft sea breeze gave a lift to my step.

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  • We will begin by studing the paragraph format first. Academic writing is the kind of writing used in high school and college classes. Academic writing is different from creative writing, which is the kind of writing you do when you write stories. A paragraph is a group of related statements that a writer develops about a subject. The first sentence is the topic of your composition, and the rest of the sentences are the body and the conclucison sentences. When you handwrite or type a paper, the first thing you must do is make your paper like this : because these are...

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  • MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual — he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story — that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book...

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  • The Last Bite Seren snagged her fishnet stocking on the buckles of her New Rock boots. She cursed under her breath as the fabric ripped, but where she was going no-one would notice one hole larger than the rest in her hosiery. She checked herself out in the mirror. She didn't look too bad at all. The eyeliner had gone on okay at the third attempt, more old school gothic than spooky kid. Her face was perfectly pale and her blood red lips were lined with black.

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  • GRAMPS FORD, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!" Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D.

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  • An Empty Room The house where the long trail started was one of gray walls, gray rooms and gray corridors, with carpets that muffled the feet which at intervals passed along them. It was a house of silence, brooding within the high fence that shut it and the grounds from a landscape torpid under the hot sun of summer, and across which occasionally drifted the lonely, mournful whistle of a train on a nearby railroad. Inside the house there was always a hush, a heavy quiet—restful to the brain. But now a voice was raised, young, angry, impatient, in one...

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  • GRAMPS FORD, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!" Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D.

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  • COMMANDER William Powers, subleader of Survey Group Sirian Combine—1027798 and hence first officer of its ship, the Benefactor, stared coldly out of his cabin port. The Benefactor was resting on the bedrock of Island Twenty-seven of the world called Mureess by its natives. Like all the other such names, it meant "the world," just as the natives' name for themselves, Falsethsa, meant "the people," or "us," or "the only race.

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