Showing posts with label oil painting art work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oil painting art work. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

oil painting art work

谁也不敢大声的喘一下气,因为今天实在是太累了,谁也不想再到外面走一步,就连想要上厕所也是尽量的忍耐着。对于今天消耗了大量体力的雷来说,晚饭那点食物实在是太少了,只睡到半夜,雷就被自己的肚子叫醒了。这时他听到自己的旁边的床位上面不断传来:“咔兹,咔兹”的声音,雷知道那是自己班里李元发出的声音,于是就轻叫道:“喂,李元,你在干什么?”。
  随着雷的叫声,“咔兹”声也停止了,接着就听到李元轻声回道:“班长,我实在是太饿了,所以就来点夜宵,你要不要也来一点?”。
  雷真的很饿,他也非常吃点什么东西,可是张口后他却出于本能地道:“不用了,你小心一点,别让连长抓到了。”。
  “嗯,知道了。”李元轻声回道。
  也不知道是李元那食物的香味,还是因为他和雷两人的谈话,不少人醒了过来。不断有人问道:“喂,谁还有吃的?要不要和我换点,我这有......”,接着就听到不断的上下床的声音,打开柜子声音,拉拉链的声音,翻找声,关柜子声音,最后就是不断的咀嚼之声了。

Monday, December 3, 2007

oil painting art work

But Maud said, 'Tut! tut!' in gentle reproval, and then asked why I was a blithering idiot. ¡¡¡¡'No matches!' I groaned. 'Not a match did I bring! And now we shall have no hot coffee, soup, tea, nor anything.' ¡¡¡¡'Wasn't it er- Crusoe who rubbed sticks together?' she drawled. ¡¡¡¡'But I have read the personal narratives of a score of shipwrecked men who tried, and tried in vain,' I answered. 'I remember Winters, a newspaper fellow with an Alaskan and Siberian reputation. Met him at the Bibelot once, and he was telling us how he attempted to make a fire with a couple of sticks. It was most amusing. He told it inimitably, but it was the story of a failure. I remember his conclusion, his black eyes flashing as he said: "Gentlemen, the South Sea Islander may do it, the Malay may do it, but, take my word, it's beyond the white man."' ¡¡¡¡'Oh,
ell, we've managed so far without it,' she said cheerfully; 'and there's no reason why we cannot still manage without it.' ¡¡¡¡'But think of the coffee!' I cried. 'It's good coffee, too. I know; I took it from Larsen's private stores. And look at that good wood.' ¡¡¡¡I confess that I wanted the coffee badly, and I learned not long afterward that the berry was likewise a little weakness of Maud's. Besides, we had been so long on

oil painting art work

what was going on. The shark, a sixteen-footer, was hoisted up against the main-rigging. Its jaws were pried apart to their greatest extension, and a stout stake, sharpened at both ends, was so inserted that when the pries were removed the spread jaws were fixed upon it. This accomplished, the hook was cut out. The shark dropped back into the sea, helpless, yet with its full strength, doomed to lingering starvation- a living death less meet for it than for the man who devised the punishment. ¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. ¡¡¡¡I KNEW WHAT IT WAS AS SHE came toward me. For ten minutes I had watched her talking earnestly with the engineer, and now, with a sign for silence, I drew her out of earshot of the helmsman. Her face was white and set; her large eyes- larger than usual, what of the purpose in them- looked penetratingly into mine. I felt rather timid and apprehensive, for she had come to search Humphrey Van Weyden's soul, and Humphrey Van Weyden had nothing of which to be particularly proud since his advent on the Ghost.

Friday, November 30, 2007

oil painting art work

sailors to move about without holding on, and several times, after a cry of 'Now she takes it!' we were heaped upon the wall of the port cabin as though it had been the deck. ¡¡¡¡'To- with a lookout,' I heard Wolf Larsen say when we had eaten and drunk our fill. 'There's nothing can be done on deck. If anything's going to run us down, we couldn't get out of its way. Turn in, all hands, and get some sleep.' ¡¡¡¡The sailors slipped forward, setting the side-lights as they went, while the two hunters remained to sleep in the cabin, it not being deemed advisable to open the slide to the steerage companionway. Wolf Larsen and I, between us, cut off Kerfoot's crushed finger and sewed up the stump. Mugridge, who, during all the time he had been compelled to cook and serve coffee and keep the fire going, had complained of internal pains, now swore that he had a broken rib or two. On examination we found that he had three. But his case was deferred to next day, principally for the reason that I did not know anything about broken ribs, and would first have to read it up.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

oil painting art work

'Hump, if you will look on the west coast of the map of Norway you will see an indentation called Romsdal Fiord. I was born within a hundred miles of that stretch of water. But I was not born Norwegian. I am a Dane. My father and mother were Danes, and how they ever came to that bleak bight of land on the west coast I do not know. I never heard. Outside of that, there is nothing mysterious. They were poor people and unlettered. They came of generations of poor, unlettered people- peasants of the sea who sowed their sons on the waves as has been their custom since time began. There is no more to tell.' ¡¡¡¡'But there is,' I objected. 'It is still obscure to me.' ¡¡¡¡'What can I tell you,' he demanded, with a recrudescence of fierceness, 'of the meagerness of a child's life- of fish diet and coarse living; of going out with the boats from the time I could crawl; of my brothers, who went away one by one to the deep-sea farming and never came back; of myself, unable to read or write, cabin-boy at the mature age of ten on the coastwise, old-country ships; of the rough fare and rougher usage, where kicks and blows were bed and breakfast and took the place of

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

oil painting art work

edges of the hole in the side of the cabin, through which the gray fog swirled and eddied; the empty upholstered seats, littered with all the evidences of sudden flight, such as packages, hand-satchels, umbrellas, and wraps; the stout gentleman who had been reading my essay, incased in cork and canvas, the magazine still in his hand, and asking me with monotonous insistence if I thought there was any danger; the red-faced man stumping gallantly around on his artificial legs and buckling life-preservers on all comers; and, finally, the screaming bedlam of womenThis it was, the screaming of the women, that most tried my nerves. It must have tried, too, the nerves of the red-faced man, for I have another picture which will never fade from my mind. The stout gentleman is stuffing the magazine into his overcoat pocket and looking on curiously. A tangled mass of women, with drawn, white faces and open mouths, is shrieking like a chorus of lost souls; and the red-faced man, his face now purplish with wrath, and with arms extended overhead, as in the act of hurling thunderbolts, is shouting, 'Shut up! Oh, shut up!'

Monday, November 26, 2007

oil painting art work

most; and by degrees I was brought to see daylight. Since then my one desire has been to hand on the true view to others, and that is what I was trying to do to-day; though it is only lately that I have preached hereabout. The first months of my ministry have been spent in the North of England among strangers, where I preferred to make my earliest clumsy attempts, so as to acquire courage before undergoing that severest of all tests of one's sincerity, addressing those who have known one, and have been one's companions in the days of darkness. If you could only know, Tess, the pleasure of having a good slap at yourself, I am sure------' ¡¡¡¡`Don't go on with it!' she cried passionately, as she turned away from him to a stile by the wayside, on which she bent herself. `I can't believe in such sudden things! I feel indignant with you for talking to me like this, when you know - when you know what harm you've done me! You, and those like you, take your fill of pleasure on earth by making the life of such as me bitter and black with sorrow; and then it is a fine thing, when you have had enough of that, to think of securing your pleasure in heaven by becoming converted! Out upon such - I don't believe in you - I hate it!'

Sunday, November 25, 2007

oil painting art work

¡¡¡¡Here they were within a plantation which formed the Abbey grounds, and taking a new hold of her he went onward a few steps till they reached the ruined choir of the Abbey-church. Against the north wall was the empty stone coffin of an abbot, in which every tourist with a turn for grim humour was accustomed to stretch himself. In this Clare carefully laid Tess. Having kissed her lips a second time he breathed deeply, as if a greatly desired end were attained. Clare then lay down on the ground alongside, when he immediately fell into the deep dead slumber of exhaustion, and remained motionless as a log. The spurt of mental excitement which had produced the effort was now over. ¡¡¡¡Tess sat up in the coffin. The night, though dry and mild for the season, was more than sufficiently cold to make it dangerous for him to remain here long, in his half-clothed state. If he were left to himself he would in all probability stay there till the morning, and be chilled to certain death. She had heard of such deaths after sleep-walking. But how could she dare to awaken him, and let him know what he had been doing, when it would mortify him to discover his folly in respect of h

Friday, November 23, 2007

oil painting art work

A spiritual forgetfulness coexisted with an intellectual remembrance. She walked in brightness, but she knew that in the background those shapes of darkness were always spread. They might be receding, or they might be approaching, one or the other, a little every day. ¡¡¡¡One evening Tess and Clare were obliged to sit indoors keeping house, all the other occupants of the domicile being away. As they talked she looked thoughtfully up at him, and met his two appreciative eyes. ¡¡¡¡`I am not worthy of you - no, I am not!' she burst out, jumping up from her low stool as though appalled at his homage, and the fulness of her own joy thereat. ¡¡¡¡Clare, deeming the whole basis of her excitement to be that which was only the smaller part of it, said-- ¡¡¡¡`I won't have you speak like it, dear Tess! Distinction does not consist in the facile use of a contemptible set of conventions, but in being numbered among those who are true, and honest, and just, and pure, and lovely, and of good report - as you are, my Tess.'

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

oil painting art work

She also assented to this. ¡¡¡¡`Though I do more real work to-day than all the week besides.' ¡¡¡¡`Do you?' ¡¡¡¡`All the week I work for the glory of man, and on Sunday for the glory of God. That's more real than the other - hey? I have a little to do here at this stile.' The man turned as he spoke to an opening at the roadside leading into a pasture.'If you'll wait a moment,'he added, `I shall not be long.' ¡¡¡¡As he had her basket she could not well do otherwise; and she waited, observing him. He set down her basket and the tin pot, and stirring the paint with the brush that was in it began painting large square letters on the middle board of the three composing the stile, placing a comma after each word, as if to give pause while that word was driven well home to the reader's heart--
THY, DAMNATION, SLUMBERETH, NOT. Against the peaceful landscape, the pale, decaying tints of the copses, the blue air of the horizon, and the lichened stile-boards, these staring vermilion words shone forth. They seemed to shout themselves out and make the atmosphere ring. Some people might have cried `Alas, poor Theology!' at the hideous defacement - the last grotesque phase of a creed which had served mankind well in its time. But the words entered Tess with accusatory horror. It was as if this man had known her recent history; yet he was a total stranger.

oil painting art work

idiosyncrasy, its constitution, often its own code of morality. The levity of some of the younger women in and about Trantridge was marked, and was perhaps symptomatic of the choice spirit who ruled The Slopes in that vicinity. The place had also a more abiding defect; it drank hard. The staple conversation on the farms around was on the uselessness of saving money; and smock-frocked arithmeticians, leaning on their ploughs or hoes, would enter into calculations of great nicety to prove that parish relief was a fuller provision for a man in his old age than any which could result from savings out of their wages during a whole lifetime. ¡¡¡¡The chief pleasure of these philosophers lay in going every Saturday night, when work was done, to Chaseborough, a decayed market town two or three miles distant; and, returning in the small hours of the next morning, to spend Sunday in sleeping off the dyspeptic effects of the curious compounds sold to them as beer by the monopolizers of the once independent inns.

Monday, November 19, 2007

oil painting art work

岁的美国人贝天牧直夸小姑娘,同时也皱起眉头。

苏赢下半身瘫痪,已经21岁了,根据中国法律,超过14岁的她不可能被爱心家庭收养了,但需要教会她自食其力。给她找工作难倒了贝天牧。

20多年前,这个美国人带着妻子潘姆拉来到中国,从收养一个孤儿到创办一个收养中心,夫妻俩最终在距北京70公里的河北廊坊和天津武清交界处,为中国孤残儿童建起一个家园。这曾是当地人放羊的地方,牧羊地儿童村由此得名。

如今,他已从一名美国公民化身数百名中国弃儿的抚养者,并帮助3000多中国弃儿做了手术治疗。近日,他的事迹在网上走红,被誉为新时代的白求恩,为一解真容,记者走进他的牧羊地儿童村。

贝天牧和“小羊羔”

处于宁静而相对偏僻的大王古庄镇,儿童村并不显眼。这是个没有任何招牌的安静院落,唯一的门牌上写着,晋元道26号。

贝天牧很乐意带每一位到访的客人参观他的儿童村。

只要在家,贝天牧每天都会到各个小屋里去跟孩子们交流,说说话,抱抱孩子们。这个戴黑框眼镜,须发斑白,面容慈祥的美国人,被村里数百个孩子亲切地唤作“Tim爸爸”。Tim Baker是他的英文名。

Sunday, November 11, 2007

oil painting art work

Leia managed to remain calm; she knew that panic would doom them all. "Getunder him, Chewie," she told the pilot. "It's Luke." Chewbacca immediately responded and carefully eased the Millennium Falconon a descent trajectory. "Lando," Leia called, turning to him, "open the top hatch." As he rushed out of the cockpit, Lando thought it a strategy worthy of Solohimself. Chewbacca and Leia could see Luke's plunging body more clearly, and theWookiee guided the ship toward him. As Chewie retarded the ship's speeddrastically, the plummeting form skimmed the windscreen and then landed with athud against the outer hull. Lando opened the upper hatch. In the distance he glimpsed the three TIEfighters approaching the Falcon, their laser guns brightening the twilight sky withstreaks of hot destruction. Lando stretched his body out of the hatch and reached tograsp the battered warrior and pull him inside the ship. Just then Falcon lurched as abolt exploded near it, and almost threw Luke's body overboard. But Lando caughthis hand and held on tightly.