英語單詞rawhided怎麼讀

Ⅰ 急需高級英語everyday use 的原文

Everyday use 英文原版I will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yesterday afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's faces. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a dark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into a bright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tears in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks orchids are tacky flowers. In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls ring the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open fire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyes with a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill before nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pancake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Carson has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one foot raised in flight, with my head fumed in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind to him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflected in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look of concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house fall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity; forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serf' oust way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own: and knew what style was.I never had an ecation myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask my why: in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passes her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. I used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin; they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutters up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, "Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school. Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet—but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as if God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh, " is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your foot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yellows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wasuzo-Teano!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes her move. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. 待續。。

Ⅱ 我還是願意做你的伴郎開頭英語歌叫什麼啊

歌曲: Don't Fuck With Us 歌手: John Cena 專輯: 《You Can´t See M..》
復制歌詞 下載LRC歌詞
"Don't Fuck With Us"
artist : John Cena
Lyrics maker : 亻= 傑 （珠海D）

We keep it hoppin like the cars with the shocks
We spittin heat on your block
We new to the game, but runnin the spot
Numbin your knot, with basslines that'll make ya neck break
This rook'll take your queen and put ya king in checkmate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs; y'all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push your wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us? We're leavin you face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I'm straight outta A-Town
Runnin the playground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq's feet
We into big things, bank account's overgrown
All types of cheese - swiss, cheddar, provolone
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Track hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels

Y'all, bitch, crews, don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound, to, lose, another one bites the st
Y'all, bitch, crews, don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound, to, lose, another one bites the st

It's Trademarc the truth, laid back, aloof
I'm God, as if you needed some proof
You ain't hard I can see it on you, {?}
Fuck a droptop, crop if I'm creepin on you
Click-clack nickelback knickknacks if you got heaters on you
Spittin back live rounders, with five pounders
If we meetin on two, I put a beatin on you
Your sound's tired buddy, that's why I'm sleepin on you
We lean back in the ride, with cream stackin the rawhide
The sound of God slide with a raw vibe
Straight military camel clothes ash brown boots
So sick, I've been handlin flows, since enamel was gold tooth
And branded by low

Ⅲ rawhide是什麼意思

rawhide 英[ˈrɔ:haɪd] 美[ˈrɔˌhaɪd]
n. 生皮，未經加工的皮革; 生皮鞭;
vt. 用生皮鞭抽打;
adj. 生牛皮的;
[例句]At his belt he carried a rawhide whip.
他腰間別著生牛皮製成的鞭子。
[其他] 第三人稱單數：rawhides 復數：rawhides 現在分詞：rawhiding過去式：rawhided 過去分詞：rawhided

Ⅳ 《Rawhide Down》txt下載在線閱讀全文,求百度網盤雲資源

《Rawhide Down》（Del Quentin Wilber）電子書網盤下載免費在線閱讀

鏈接: https://pan..com/s/1_yJ7OgjPHNgqmw0rQxwalA

書名：Rawhide Down

作者：Del Quentin Wilber

出版社：Henry Holt and Co.

出版年份：2011-3-15

頁數：320

內容簡介：

For the first time, a minute-by-minute account of the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan

On March 30, 1981, President Reagan walked out of a hotel in Washington, D.C., and was shot by a would-be assassin. For years, few people knew the truth about how close the president came to dying, and no one has ever written a detailed narrative of that harrowing day. Now, drawing on exclusive new interviews, Del Quentin Wilber tells the electrifying story of a moment when the nation faced a terrifying crisis. With cinematic clarity, we see the Secret Service agent whose fast reflexes saved the president's life; the brilliant surgeons who operated on Reagan as he was losing half his blood; and the small group of White House officials frantically trying to determine whether the country was under attack. Most especially, we encounter the man code-named Rawhide, a leader of uncommon grace who inspired affection and awe in everyone who worked with him.

Ronald Reagan was the only serving U.S. president to survive being shot in an assassination attempt. In Rawhide Down, the story of that perilous day—a day of chaos, crisis, prayer, heroism, and hope—is brought to life as never before.

作者簡介：

Soon after Del Quentin Wilber got his undergraate degree from Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism in 1997, he stumbled on his first big story: a massive fish kill in the waterways of Maryland's Eastern Shore. Living out of a suitcase and writing in drab motel rooms for days on end, Wilber tromped along muddy shorelines, reeked of dead fish, watched fellow reporters become sick with inexplicable illnesses--and immediately knew that there was no other job he'd rather be doing.

A recovering former collegiate baseball player, Wilber joined the staff of The Baltimore Sun after landing one of the Sun's prestigious two-year internships. Before long, he was given a full-time position covering crime in a suburban bureau, and in 2001 the paper's editors tapped him to cover crime in the city. His reporting on wrongdoing by Baltimore's police chief led to the chief's conviction on corruption charges and a stint in federal prison. In 2002, Wilber led the paper's coverage of the D.C. sniper shootings, which later was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. Wilber's work as a police reporter received national recognition when he won the Al Nakkula Award for Police Reporting in 2004

Wilber joined the staff of the Washington Post in 2004 as the D.C. police reporter. He soon gained the trust of the police department's top officers as well as numerous cops on the street, which ultimately allowed him to gain unusual access to the inner workings of the department. In numerous stories for the Post, Wilber explored the life of police officers and detectives as they investigated homicides and tried to solve cold cases, car thefts and burglaries.

In 2006, he became the paper's national aviation writer. Long fascinated by airplanes and aviation, Wilber covered plane crashes, flight delays, and aviation safety and security issues. To better understand the instry, he also became a licensed private pilot. After being promoted by the paper to cover the federal courts, he chronicled the trial of former Senator Ted Stevens and wrote about the complicated issues surrounding the detainees at the U.S. military prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He got the idea to write Rawhide Down shortly after attending a hearing for John W. Hinckley Jr. and being handed the would-be assassin's gun by an FBI agent who kept it in his drawer.

As a boy in Massachusetts, Wilber became obsessed with the Boston Red Sox, in part because his grandfather, Del Wilber, played for the Red Sox as a back-up catcher in the 1950s. He later moved with his family to Northern Virginia and attended Georgetown Preparatory School. He now lives in the Washington area with his wife, NPR correspondent Laura Sullivan, and their two sons, Quentin and Ryan.

Wilber is often asked why he uses his middle name in his byline, and the simple answer is that he's proud of it. The name goes back four generations to his great-grandfather's decision to give his son that middle name in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt's youngest child, who died in World War I while serving as a fighter pilot. Wilber, a history buff who often watches documentaries while simultaneously reading a nonfiction book, couldn't resist carrying on the tradition with his own son.

Ⅳ R開頭的英文單詞有

1、rabbit

【讀音】英[ˈræbɪt] 美[ˈræbɪt]

【釋義】

1、n. 兔子，野兔; 兔子皮毛; 兔子肉; 〈俚〉新手，弱手;

2、vi. 獵兔（通常作 go rabbiting）; （兔子似的） 聚攏在一起; <英俚>嘮叨，喋喋不休（常與on about連用）;

3、vt. 讓…見鬼去吧.

Ⅵ 哪些單詞里有whd三個字母

whd相連的單詞沒有，但按順序包含w h d這三個字母的單詞不少：
arrowhead backwashed bewhiskered bewitched blowhard
bowhead brainwashed bullwhipped bushwhacked cartwheeled
chowderhead chowhound counterweighted cowhand
cowherd cowhide cowshed crawfished downhearted
downshifted enswathed enwreathed fellowshiped
freewheeled horsewhipped inswathed lowlihead
multiwarhead newshound notwithstanding outwatched
outweighed outwhirled outwished overweighed overweighted
overwhelmed overwithheld overwithhold overwithholding
pewholder pinwheeled plowhead prewashed rainwashed
rawhide rewashed reweighed sandwiched showerhead
snowshed snowshoed stonewashed swanherd swashbuckled
swashed swathed swellhead swineherd swished switchbacked
switchblade switchboard switched switchyard swithered
swooshed towhead towheaded towheads twitched underwhelmed
unswathed unwashed unwashedness unweathered unweighted
unwished unwreathed wahconda wampished warehoused warhead
warmhearted washboard washday washed washstand watchband
watchdog watched watchword watershed wauchted waughted
weakhearted weatherboard weathered weatherized weatherproofed
weighed weighted welched wellhead welshed wenched whacked
whaled whammed whanged whapped wharfed wheedle wheedled wheedler
wheedles wheedling wheelbarrowed wheeled wheeped wheepled
wheezed whelmed whelped wherried whetted whickered whid
whidah whidded whidding whids whiffed whiffled whiled
whimpered whimsied whined whinged whinnied whipcord whipped
whipsawed whipstitched whirled whirlwind whirlybird whirred
whirried whished whishted whisked whiskered whispered whisted
whistled whitebeard whiteboard whited whitehead whitened
whitewashed whitewood whitherward whittled whizzed whonit
whonnit wholehearted wholesaled whomped whoofed whooped
whooshed whopped whored whoredom whorled whumped whydah
widemouthed widowerhood widowhood wifehood winched windshield
wirehaired wished witched witchweed withdraw withdrawable
withdrawal withdrawing withdrawn withdrawnness withdraws
withdrew withed withered withheld withhold withholder
withholding withindoors withstand withstood wolfhound
womanhood woodenhead woodshed woolshed wooshed worshipped
worthed wrathed wreathed wrenched wretched wretcheder wretchedest
wretchedly writhed wrongheaded wuthered