Now, if we strive rigorously to simplify the phenomena in either of these ways, we soon become aware of inadequacies in our method. Any particular cognition, for example, or recollection, is accounted for on the soul-theory by being referred to the spiritual faculties20 of Cognition or of Memory. These faculties themselves are thought of as absolute properties of the soul; that is, to take the case of memory, no reason is given why we should remember a fact as it happened, except that so to remember it constitutes the essence of our Recollective Power. We may, as spiritualists, try to explain our memory's failures and blunders by secondary causes. But its successes can invoke21 no factors save the existence of certain objective things to be remembered on the one hand, and of our faculty of memory on the other. When, for instance, I recall my graduation-day, and drag all its incidents and emotions up from death's dateless night, no mechanical cause can explain this process, nor can any analysis reduce it to lower terms or make its nature seem other than an ultimate datum22, which, whether we rebel or not at its mysteriousness, must simply be taken for granted if we are to psychologize at all. However the associationist may represent the present ideas as thronging23 and arranging themselves, still, the spiritualist insists, he has in the end to admit that something, be it brain, be it 'ideas,' be it 'association,' knows past time as past, and fills it out with this or that event. And when the spiritualist calls memory an 'irreducible faculty,' he says no more than this admission of the associationist already grants.
And yet the admission is far from being a satisfactory simplification of the concrete facts. For why should this absolute god-given Faculty retain so much better the events of yesterday than those of last year, and, best of all, those of an hour ago? Why, again, in old age should its grasp of childhood's events seem firmest? Why should illness and exhaustion24 enfeeble it? Why should repeating an experience strengthen our recollection of it? Why should drugs, fevers, asphyxia, and excitement resuscitate25 things long since forgotten? If we content ourselves with merely affirming that the faculty of memory is so peculiarly constituted by nature as to exhibit just these oddities, we seem little the better for having invoked27 it, for our explanation becomes as complicated as that of the crude facts with which we started. Moreover there is something grotesque28 and irrational29 in the supposition that the soul is equipped with elementary powers of such an ingeniously intricate sort. Why should our memory cling more easily to the near than the remote? Why should it lose its grasp of proper sooner than of abstract names? Such peculiarities30 seem quite fantastic; and might, for aught we can see a priori, be the precise opposites of what they are. Evidently, then, the faculty does not exist absolutely, but works under conditions; and the quest of the conditions becomes the psychologist's most interesting task.
However firmly he may hold to the soul and her remembering faculty, he must acknowledge that she never exerts the latter without a cue, and that something must always precede and remind us of whatever we are to recollect19. "An idea!" says the associationist, "an idea associated with the remembered thing; and this explains also why things repeatedly met with are more easily recollected31, for their associates on the various occasions furnish so many distinct avenues of recall." But this does not explain the effects of fever, exhaustion, hypnotism, old age, and the like. And in general, the pure associationist's account of our mental life is almost as bewildering as that of the pure spiritualist. This multitude of ideas, existing absolutely, yet clinging together, and weaving an endless carpet of themselves, like dominoes in ceaseless change, or the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope,-whence do they get their fantastic laws of clinging, and why do they cling in just the shapes they do?
For this the associationist must introduce the order of experience in the outer world. The dance of the ideas is a copy, somewhat mutilated and altered, of the order of phenomena. But the slightest reflection shows that phenomena have absolutely no power to influence our ideas until they have first impressed our senses and our brain. The bare existence of a past fact is no ground for our remembering it. Unless we have seen it, or somehow undergone it, we shall never know of its having been. The experiences of the body are thus one of the conditions of the faculty of memory being what it is. And a very small amount of reflection on facts shows that one part of the body, namely, the brain, is the part whose experiences are directly concerned. If the nervous communication be cut off between the brain and other parts, the experiences of those other parts are non-existent for the mind. The eye is blind, the ear deaf, the hand insensible and motionless. And conversely, if the brain be injured, consciousness is abolished or altered, even although every other organ in the body be ready to play its normal part. A blow on the head, a sudden subtraction32 of blood, the pressure of an apoplectic33 hemorrhage, may have the first effect; whilst a very few ounces of alcohol or grains of opium34 or hasheesh, or a whiff of chloroform or nitrous oxide35 gas, are sure to have the second. The delirium36 of fever, the altered self of insanity37, are all due to foreign matters circulating through the brain, or to pathological changes in that organ's substance. The fact that the brain is the one immediate38 bodily condition of the mental operations is indeed so universally admitted nowadays that I need spend no more time in illustrating39 it, but will simply postulate40 it and pass on. The whole remainder of the book will be more or less of a proof that the postulate was correct.
Bodily experiences, therefore, and more particularly brain-experiences, must take a place amongst those conditions of the mental life of which Psychology need take account. The spiritualist and the associationist must both be 'cerebralists,' to the extent at least of admitting that certain peculiarities in the way of working of their own favorite principles are explicable only by the fact that the brain laws are a codeterminant of the result.
Our first conclusion, then, is that a certain amount of brain-physiology must be presupposed or included in Psychology1.
In still another way the psychologist is forced to be something of a nerve-physiologist42. Mental phenomena are not only conditioned a parte ante by bodily processes; but they lead to them a parte post. That they lead to acts is of course the most familiar of truths, but I do not merely mean acts in the sense of voluntary and deliberate muscular performances. Mental states occasion also changes in the calibre of blood-vessels, or alteration43 in the heartbeats, or processes more subtle still, in glands44 and viscera. If these are taken into account, as well as acts which follow at some remote period because the mental state was once there, it will be safe to lay down the general law that no mental modification45 ever occurs which is not accompanied or followed by a bodily change. The ideas and feelings, e.g., which these present printed characters excite in the reader's mind not only occasion movements of his eyes and nascent46 movements of articulation47 in him, but will some day make him speak, or take sides in a discussion, or give advice, or choose a book to read, differently from what would have been the case had they never impressed his retina. Our psychology must therefore take account not only of the conditions antecedent to mental states, but of their resultant consequences as well.
But actions originally prompted by conscious intelligence may grow so automatic by dint48 of habit as to be apparently49 unconsciously performed. Standing50, walking, buttoning and unbuttoning, piano-playing, talking, even saying one's prayers, may be done when the mind is absorbed in other things. The performances of animal instinct seem semi-automatic, and the reflex acts of self-preservation certainly are so. Yet they resemble intelligent acts in bringing about the same ends at which the animals' consciousness, on other occasions, deliberately51 aims. Shall the study of such machine-like yet purposive acts as these be included in Psychology?
The boundary-line of the mental is certainly vague. It is better not to be pedantic52, but to let the science be as vague as its subject, and include such phenomena as these if by so doing we can throw any light on the main business in hand. It will ere long be seen, I trust, that we can; and that we gain much more by a broad than by a narrow conception of our subject. At a certain stage in the development of every science a degree of vagueness is what best consists with fertility. On the whole, few recent formulas have done more real service of a rough sort in psychology than the Spencerian one that the essence of mental life and of bodily life are one, namely, 'the adjustment of inner to outer relations.' Such a formula is vagueness incarnate53; but because it takes into account the fact that minds inhabit environments which act on them and on which they in turn react; because, in short, it takes mind in the midst of all its concrete relations, it is immensely more fertile than the old-fashioned 'rational psychology,' which treated the soul as a detached existent, sufficient unto itself, and assumed to consider only its nature and properties. I shall therefore feel free to make any sallies into zoology54 or into pure nerve-physiology which may seem instructive for our purposes, but otherwise shall leave those sciences to the physiologists55.
Can we state more distinctly still the manner in which the mental life seems to intervene between impressions made from without upon the body, and reactions of the body upon the outer world again? Let us look at a few facts.
If some iron filings be sprinkled on a table and a magnet brought near them, they will fly through the air for a certain distance and stick to its surface. A savage56 seeing the phenomenon explains it as the result of an attraction or love between the magnet and the filings. But let a card cover the poles of the magnet, and the filings will press forever against its surface without its ever occurring to them to pass around its sides and thus come into more direct contact with the object of their love. Blow bubbles through a tube into the bottom of a pail of water, they will rise to the surface and mingle57 with the air. Their action may again be poetically58 interpreted as due to a longing59 to recombine with the mother-atmosphere above the surface. But if you invert60 a jar full of water over the pail, they will rise and remain lodged61 beneath its bottom, shut in from the outer air, although a slight deflection from their course at the outset, or a re-descent towards the rim62 of the jar, when they found their upward course impeded63, could easily have set them free.
If now we pass from such actions as these to those of living things, we notice a striking difference. Romeo wants Juliet as the filings want the magnet; and if no obstacles intervene he moves towards her by as straight a line as they. But Romeo and Juliet, if a wall be built between them, do not remain idiotically pressing their faces against its opposite sides like the magnet and the filings with the card. Romeo soon finds a circuitous64 way, by scaling the wall or otherwise, of touching65 Juliet's lips directly. With the filings the path is fixed66; whether it reaches the end depends on accidents. With the lover it is the end which is fixed, the path may be modified indefinitely.
Suppose a living frog in the position in which we placed our bubbles of air, namely, at the bottom of a jar of water. The want of breath will soon make him also long to rejoin the mother-atmosphere, and he will take the shortest path to his end by swimming straight upwards67. But if a jar full of water be inverted68 over him, he will not, like the bubbles, perpetually press his nose against its unyielding roof, but will restlessly explore the neighborhood until by re-descending again he has discovered a path around its brim to the goal of his desires. Again the fixed end, the varying means!
Such contrasts between living and inanimate performances end by leading men to deny that in the physical world final purposes exist at all. Loves and desires are to-day no longer imputed69 to particles of iron or of air. No one supposes now that the end of any activity which they may display is an ideal purpose presiding over the activity from its outset and soliciting71 or drawing it into being by a sort of vis a fronte. The end, on the contrary, is deemed a mere26 passive result, pushed into being a tergo, having had, so to speak, no voice in its own production. Alter, the pre-existing conditions, and with inorganic72 materials you bring forth73 each time a different apparent end. But with intelligent agents, altering the conditions changes the activity displayed, but not the end reached; for here the idea of the yet unrealized end co-operates with the conditions to determine what the activities shall be.
The Pursuance of future ends and the choice of means for their attainment74, are thus the mark and criterion of the presence of mentality75 in a phenomenon. We all use this test to discriminate76 between an intelligent and a mechanical performance. We impute70 no mentality to sticks and stones, because they never seem to move for the sake of anything, but always when pushed, and then indifferently and with no sign of choice. So we unhesitatingly call them senseless.
Just so we form our decision upon the deepest of all philosophic77 problems: Is the Kosmos an expression of intelligence rational in its inward nature, or a brute78 external fact pure and simple? If we find ourselves, in contemplating79 it, unable to banish80 the impression that it is a realm of final purposes, that it exists for the sake of something, we place intelligence at tile heart of it and have a religion. If, on the contrary, in surveying its irremediable flux81, we can think of the present only as so much mere mechanical sprouting82 from the past, occurring with no reference to the future, we are atheists and materialists.
In the lengthy83 discussions which psychologists have carried on about the amount of intelligence displayed by lower mammals, or the amount of consciousness involved in the functions of the nerve-centres of reptiles84, the same test has always been applied85: Is the character of the actions such that we must believe them to be performed for the sake of their result? The result in question, as we shall hereafter abundantly see, is as a rule a useful one,-the animal is, on the whole, safer under the circumstances for bringing it forth. So far the action has a teleological86 character; but such mere outward teleology87 as this might still be the blind result of vis a tergo. The growth and movements of plants, the processes of development, digestion88, secretion89, etc., in animals, supply innumerable instances of performances useful to the individual which may nevertheless be, and by most of us are supposed to be, produced by automatic mechanism90. The physiologist does not confidently assert conscious intelligence in the frog's spinal91 cord until he has shown that the useful result which the nervous machinery92 brings forth under a given irritation93 remains94 the same when the machinery is altered. If, to take the stock-instance, the right knee of a headless frog be irritated with acid, the right foot will wipe it off. When, however, this foot is amputated, the animal will often raise the left foot to the spot and wipe the offending material away.
Pfluger and Lewes reason from such facts in the following way: If the first reaction were the result of mere machinery, they say; if that irritated portion of the skin discharged the right leg as a trigger discharges its own barrel of a shotgun; then amputating the right foot would indeed frustrate95 the wiping, but would not make the left leg move. It would simply result in the right stump96 moving through the empty air (which is in fact the phenomenon sometimes observed). The right trigger makes no effort to discharge the left barrel if the right one be unloaded; nor does an electrical machine ever get restless because it can only emit sparks, and not hem14 pillow-cases like a sewing-machine.
If, on the contrary, the right leg originally moved for the purpose of wiping the acid, then nothing is more natural than that, when the easiest means of effecting that purpose prove fruitless, other means should be tried. Every failure must keep the animal in a state of disappointment which will lead to all sorts of new trials and devices; and tranquillity97 will not ensue till one of these, by a happy stroke, achieves the wished-for end.
In a similar way Goltz ascribes intelligence to the frog's optic lobes98 and cerebellum. We alluded99 above to the manner in which a sound frog imprisoned100 in water will discover an outlet101 to the atmosphere. Goltz found that frogs deprived of their cerebral41 hemispheres would often exhibit a like ingenuity102. Such a frog, after rising from the bottom and finding his farther upward progress checked by the glass bell which has been inverted over him, will not persist in butting103 his nose against the obstacle until dead of suffocation104, but will often re-descend and emerge from under its rim as if, not a definite mechanical propulsion upwards, but rather a conscious desire to reach the air by hook or crook105 were the main-spring of his activity. Goltz concluded from this that the hemispheres are not the seat of intellectual power in frogs. He made the same inference from observing that a brainless frog will turn over from his back to his belly106 when one of his legs is sewed up, although the movements required are then very different from those excited under normal circumstances by the same annoying position. They seem determined107, consequently, not merely by the antecedent irritant, but by the final end,-though the irritant of course is what makes the end desired.
Another brilliant German author, Liebmann2, argues against the brain's mechanism accounting108 for mental action, by very similar considerations. A machine as such, he says, will bring forth right results when it is in good order, and wrong results if out of repair. But both kinds of result flow with equally fatal necessity from their conditions. We cannot suppose the clock-work whose structure fatally determines it to a certain rate of speed, noticing that this speed is too slow or too fast and vainly trying to correct it. Its conscience, if it have any, should be as good as that of the best chronometer109, for both alike obey equally well the same eternal mechanical laws-laws from behind. But if the brain be out of order and the man says "Twice four are two," instead of "Twice four are eight," or else "I must go to the coal to buy the wharf110," instead of "I must go to the wharf to buy the coal," instantly there arises a consciousness of error. The wrong performance, though it obey the same mechanical law as the right, is nevertheless condemned,-condemned as contradicting the inner law-the law from in front, the purpose or ideal for which the brain should act, whether it do so or not.
We need not discuss here whether these writers in drawing their conclusion have done justice to all the premises111 involved in the cases they treat of. We quote their arguments only to show how they appeal to the principle that no actions but such as are done for an end, and show a choice of means, can be called indubitable expressions of Mind.
I shall then adopt this as the criterion by which to circumscribe112 the subject-matter of this work so far as action enters into it. Many nervous performances will therefore be unmentioned, as being purely113 physiological114. Nor will the anatomy115 of the nervous system and organs of sense be described anew. The reader will find in H.N. Martin's Human Body, in G.T. Ladd's Physiological Psychology, and in all the other standard Anatomies116 and Physiologies, a mass of information which we must regard as preliminary and take for granted in the present work3. Of the functions of the cerebral hemispheres, however, since they directly subserve consciousness, it will be well to give some little account.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
phenomena
|
|
| n.现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
complexity
|
|
| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
chaotic
|
|
| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
unifying
|
|
| 使联合( unify的现在分词 )； 使相同； 使一致； 统一 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
secondly
|
|
| adv.第二，其次 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
affiliate
|
|
| vt.使隶(附)属于；n.附属机构，分公司 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
divers
|
|
| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
entity
|
|
| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
manifestations
|
|
| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
volition
|
|
| n.意志；决意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
constructively
|
|
| ad.有益的，积极的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
discrete
|
|
| adj.个别的，分离的，不连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
engendered
|
|
| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
ego
|
|
| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
invoke
|
|
| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
datum
|
|
| n.资料；数据；已知数 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
thronging
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
resuscitate
|
|
| v.使复活，使苏醒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
invoked
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
irrational
|
|
| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
recollected
|
|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
subtraction
|
|
| n.减法，减去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
apoplectic
|
|
| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
opium
|
|
| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
oxide
|
|
| n.氧化物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
delirium
|
|
| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
insanity
|
|
| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
illustrating
|
|
| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
postulate
|
|
| n.假定，基本条件；vt.要求，假定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
cerebral
|
|
| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
physiologist
|
|
| n.生理学家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
glands
|
|
| n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
modification
|
|
| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
nascent
|
|
| adj.初生的，发生中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
articulation
|
|
| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
dint
|
|
| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
pedantic
|
|
| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
incarnate
|
|
| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
zoology
|
|
| n.动物学，生态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
physiologists
|
|
| n.生理学者( physiologist的名词复数 )；生理学( physiology的名词复数 )；生理机能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
poetically
|
|
| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
invert
|
|
| vt.使反转，使颠倒，使转化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
lodged
|
|
| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
impeded
|
|
| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
circuitous
|
|
| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
inverted
|
|
| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
imputed
|
|
| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
impute
|
|
| v.归咎于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
soliciting
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
inorganic
|
|
| adj.无生物的；无机的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
mentality
|
|
| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
discriminate
|
|
| v.区别，辨别，区分；有区别地对待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
philosophic
|
|
| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
banish
|
|
| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
flux
|
|
| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
sprouting
|
|
| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
reptiles
|
|
| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
teleological
|
|
| adj.目的论的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
teleology
|
|
| n.目的论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
digestion
|
|
| n.消化，吸收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
secretion
|
|
| n.分泌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
spinal
|
|
| adj.针的，尖刺的，尖刺状突起的；adj.脊骨的，脊髓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
frustrate
|
|
| v.使失望；使沮丧；使厌烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
lobes
|
|
| n.耳垂( lobe的名词复数 )；（器官的）叶；肺叶；脑叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
outlet
|
|
| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
butting
|
|
| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
suffocation
|
|
| n.窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
crook
|
|
| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
belly
|
|
| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
chronometer
|
|
| n.精密的计时器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
circumscribe
|
|
| v.在...周围划线，限制，约束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
physiological
|
|
| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
anatomy
|
|
| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
anatomies
|
|
| n.解剖( anatomy的名词复数 )；（详细的）分析；（生物体的）解剖结构；人体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |