WHAT do I believe about man in his relation to the universe? Very little, and that little very doubtfully. But about man's own nature, and about his position on this planet to-day I have certain beliefs which are firm, precise and far-reaching in their consequences. Though in the last chapter of this book I shall make a few guesses about the universe, I shall in the main be concerned with matters nearer home.
“Belief" is a vague word. We may distinguish between three attitudes, which I shall call “surmise1," "belief" and "conviction". The distinction is not rigid2, but it is useful. In "surmise" I feel a minimum of belief, but not no belief at all. So far as possible I avoid taking action, but if action is inevitable3 I act as though the surmised4 proposition were true. In "belief", though I have not certainty, I am ready to bet very heavily on the truth of the proposition. I act unhesitatingly, or rather with no appreciable5 hesitation6. In "conviction" I have no doubt whatever that the proposition is true. I cannot conceive its being false.
In the course of my life I have acquired a certain loose tissue of thought about man and the rest of the universe. This tissue is made up of bushels of woolly surmise, a few relatively7 firm threads of belief, and one or two indestructible convictions, like rare wires of steel maintaining the whole web. These indestructible convictions are intuitive. They do not present themselves to me as propositions which I might perhaps have doubted but do in fact believe; they are immediate8 perceptions. I find them very difficult to describe in a satisfactory manner, but as they actually present themselves to me they are indubitable.
For instance, I perceive intuitively that kindliness9 and mutual10 respect and co-operation are in some sense "good", intrinsically and universally. But what exactly I mean by saying this, I find it extremely difficult to determine. All the same, the statement does represent an intuition which I find indubitable and immensely significant for practical life.
With equal certainty I perceive that it is "good" to become, so far as possible, accurately11 and comprehensively aware of the world, including myself and other individuals. It is "good" to be as sensitive as possible and as intelligent as possible. It is "good" to strive to see things truly and to see things whole.
Kindliness and intelligence, or in more exalted12 language, love and reason, present themselves to me with a special savour in virtue13 of which I call them "good", and declare with absolute confidence that in general, and apart from particular qualifying circumstances, they ought to exist.
From this intuited savour of love and reason I derive14 one of my very few firm, but theoretically dubitable beliefs. I firmly believe that no mind which clearly apprehends15 love and reason as they really are can fail to perceive them as good, can fail to approve of them. To anyone who denies that he perceives them as good I reply, "Either you do not understand what these words mean, or you have never clearly apprehended16 love and reason in your own experience; or else, though you have indeed encountered them, something is preventing you from attending to the fact that you do actually perceive them as good, intrinsically and universally." In a later chapter I shall try to defend this position. Meanwhile I am merely giving examples of my convictions, beliefs and surmises18.
Another of my few firm beliefs is one of a very different order. It is much more complex and much more questionable19. None the less, in my case it is very firm, and it has very far-reaching consequences. Along with my conviction of the goodness of love and reason, it is a controlling factor in my attitude to life. I believe that I am living at a time when human society and human culture are being refashioned perhaps more radically20 and certainly more rapidly than ever before. Indeed I believe that, if this change fulfils its promise, all earlier ages, including our own, will come to be regarded as ages of darkness and barbarism. To-day, most of the ideas in terms of which we conceive our beliefs are dissolving. Some will be abolished altogether; others will be reshaped into almost unrecognizable forms. It is impossible to-day for anyone who retains any suppleness22 of mind to state his beliefs without having very soon to discover that he was in many respects deluded23.
My belief in the fluidity of our culture persuades me that beliefs should be reduced to a minimum. This scepticism is connected with my intuitive conviction that reason, or intellectual integrity, is itself good. I believe that no proposition whatever should be believed which, when everything relevant has been considered, offends reason. To say this, of course, is not to say that no proposition should be believed which reason cannot prove. For reason must at bottom be a reasoning about unprovable but not unreasonable24 propositions, based on immediate experience. And for my part I do not believe that the only immediate experiences which reason must take into account are sense-perceptions.
Intellectual integrity, then, impels25 me to reduce my beliefs to a minimum. I must recognize the limitations of human thought. Some people tell me that they believe in God, a benevolent26 and almighty27 ruler of the universe. Some say they believe in personal immortality29, some in Evolution as a metaphysical principle, others in Materialism30 and so on. In these remote spheres I cannot reach any firm belief at all. Do I believe in God? Is Materialism true? Almost as intelligibly31 I might ask myself, is the fundamental essence of things Sunday or is it Monday morning? I dare hazard the guess that, in a very metaphorical32 sense, reality is a good deal more Mondayish than Sundayish. And as to God and Materialism I might perhaps in a moment of self-confidence hazard the guess that there is something not wholly undeserving of the adjective "God-like" in or about the universe; and yet that from another point of view the universe may very well turn out to be "matterish" through and through, if matter may be interpreted in the Pickwickian manner of Dialectical Materialism. But to raise either part of this guess into the rank of belief, to take either Theism or Materialism as an article of faith, a principle for the guidance of one’s life, seems to me unwarrantable, unwise, and inconsistent with strict intellectual integrity.
For my part I believe that for right living we must cling not to the frail33 stuff of metaphysical surmise, however bright or however exhilaratingly bleak34 its pattern, but to those few steel-true threads of intuition on which the rest is woven; and also, though less confidently, to certain generalizations35 based on logic36 and science and history. Of these, one of the most secure and most important is the belief in the fluidity of contemporary institutions and culture.
Of course, though this fluidity is obvious, the direction of social and cultural change is by no means certain. Though the process of revolutionary development in our institutions and ideas has begun, it may be frustrated37. For in the present condition of the human race, and therefore in contemporary culture, there are two conflicting tendencies, intricately entangled38 with one another in every geographical39 region, in every department of social and individual life, and indeed in every "ideology40" or system of doctrine41. The one is an impulse toward archaic42 values, the values of primitive43 man. The other is directed toward the values appropriate to a highly developed society.
The archaic values are those connected with the solidarity44 of the tribe against its enemies, and the triumph of the heroic individual as tribe-compeller. The developed values are those which centre round the remote but increasingly important ideal of a world-community of very diverse but mutually respecting and mutually enriching individuals. To the unwarped mind it is becoming increasingly clear that the right goal of all social policy has two aspects, which involve one another. One is the development of individuality in all human beings up to the limit of their capacity. This is no vague phrase. It stands for a concept which at a later stage I shall try to state with precision. The other aspect of the social goal is the development of culture; or, let us say, of a communal45 pattern of knowing, feeling and creating.
The struggle between the archaic and the developed aspirations46 is the great issue of our day. The forces of reaction may defeat the forces of progress. If this happens, unprecedented47 natural knowledge and physical power will be used to establish the archaic values. The result will be a new kind of barbarism, archaic in spirit, but equipped with aeroplanes, bombs, radio and pseudo-modern ideas. The driving force of this new barbarism will be mistrust and dread48 of all that is most prized in the half-born progressive culture; and hatred49, therefore, of reasonableness and kindliness and the ideal of a harmoniously50 co-operating mankind. It is possible, though unlikely, that if the new barbarism triumphs throughout the world it may actually destroy man’s intuition that reasonableness and kindliness are good. Moreover by systematic51 persecution52 it may seriously reduce the capacity of the race for these most human and most precious activities, these powers by which man rose to mastery of this planet. Then our species will inevitably53 decline, and perhaps vanish. This disaster is improbable because the way of life which is signified by these little words, "reason" and "love", is the only way by which man can find lasting54 peace and satisfaction. Almost inevitably, then, through however much self-frustration and self-torture, the race will sooner or later attain55 full realization56 of this fact, and reorganize its institutions in accord with this most practical of all principles.
But even if the species does not destroy itself, a temporary disaster seems probable. The triumph of the archaic in a world that is by now structurally57 modern may well cause a long period of misery58 and mental darkness. We can but hope that the wide-spread access of fury, which seems to us who witness it an apocalyptic59 catastrophe60, may after all in the view of history turn out to have been a necessary period of revitalization after a phase of lassitude.
The struggle of our age may well be regarded as a war of ideas. But the conflicting ideas are themselves the reflections of the conflicting tendencies in human circumstances. The new form of society, and the new culture, if they come into existence, will be in a sense an expression of the immense objective changes in man's conditions during the modern period. The new society and the new culture must of course be created by men's minds; but they will be products of men's minds acting61 in response to objective conditions, in fact to the very novel conditions brought about by physical science and the use of mechanical power. Some men, no doubt, will be in specially62 comfortable or specially secluded63 circumstances which will make them not desire but dread any great change of institutions and ideas. Again some will be blinded by obsessive64 devotion to the old order. Many, even though their distressful65 personal circumstances are all the while driving them toward the new order, may lack the sensitivity to feel which way the wind of circumstance is blowing. These will cling passionately67 to the order that is crushing them. But in time either the human race will be forced by the pressure of circumstances to adopt the developed attitude or it will stagnate68 and decline.
Of course no one, not even the most sensitive and intelligent and least hide-bound, can yet know in any detail what kind of a society and what kind of a culture will really fulfil the requirements of man's rapidly changing circumstances. No doubt many bright minds think they know. They tirelessly advocate some particular social system or cultural principle. They assure us that they have seen the truth. But for my part I cannot believe that any of the conflicting ideologies69 of our day is the culture toward which we are so painfully groping. Most of them, no doubt, contain some truth. Some are probably very much more true than others. Some point more or less in the right direction, are in the true line of development, are based on fertile principles; while others are relatively perverse70 and barren. But all alike are expressions of the present transitional state of human society and the present "half-baked" human intelligence, which is the best that such a society can produce. And so we may be sure that all, even the truest, are in one way or another fantastically mistaken. Not one of them is such as to merit that in our day a sensitive and reasonable man should adopt it literally71 and without qualification as a sacred article of faith in relation to which his whole life should be unswervingly directed.
It may sometimes be right for a man to behave as though he did believe the least false of these half-truths. Social loyalty72 may compel him to attach himself to some party or movement which seems to him to be on the whole the main defence of progress against reaction. But if he remains73 intelligent and sensitive he will still maintain an inner detachment from this orthodoxy. He will never forget that all contemporary ideas are necessarily inadequate74 to man's rapidly changing conditions. He will try to imagine the most probable direction of cultural advance. But also he will constantly remind himself that his own most cherished beliefs, which he has reached by trying to regard everything in his experience objectively, must be shot through with prejudice and error. He will try to keep his mind supple21 enough to alter them.
Though suppleness of mind and far-reaching agnosticism are demanded by our changing world, there remain the few very important beliefs about which We can reasonably feel sure. Our culture is indeed being revolutionized by our changing conditions, but in some fundamental respects our conditions will remain the same. And our own human nature will remain at bottom what it is to-day. Consequently the culture towards which we are striving will not be wholly different from ours. Though it will be stripped of many of our illusions and prejudices, and doubtless will have characteristic illusions and prejudices of its own, it will be based, like our culture, on certain fundamental and enduring human values.
Of these enduring values kindliness and critical intelligence, or love and reason, are by far the most important. Any culture which ignores these values, or pays merely lip-service to them, is inadequate to the facts of human experience, and must sooner or later lead to disaster.
The problem for anyone trying to form a clear view of this perplexing world is the problem of being at once thoroughly76 sensitive to all the, growing points of feeling and thought in his contemporary society and also thoroughly aware of all the perennial77 values, even of those which his society has tended to underestimate. In writing this book I shall set myself this unattainable but salutary ideal. I shall try to be at once supple and stable, at once forward-looking and backward-remembering.
But is it possible for anyone like me, whose mind was formed in the matrix of the English bourgeoisie at the height of its power, to divest79 himself of the prejudices of his age and class, so as to reach an objective and significant view of a new age, and of the mighty28 cultural revolution which is now germinating80 around us?
Modern psychology81 has emphasized the fact that our judgments82 may be confused by motives83 which are not open to introspection. Marxism, even if in some respects it is untrue, has emphasized one important manner in which a culture may be vitiated by unconscious motives, namely by the disposition84 of the dominant85 and culture-controlling class to believe ideas which are on the whole favourable86 to its enterprise of managing society, and to reject those which directly or indirectly87 seem to threaten its position. Such a class tends grossly to over-estimate its own importance, and the importance of the social order which it maintains, and of the culture on which it is nurtured88. It over-estimates the value of its own peculiar89 manners and moral sentiments. It is on the whole incapable90 of recognizing that many of its most cherished opinions are at bottom sheer prejudice in favour of social stability.
In another respect also our modern European and American culture is vitiated, in this case by the circumstances not of the culture-controlling but of the culture-expressing class. Many of our intellectuals are emotionally entangled with the established order. Their education, their speech, their clothes, their whole way of life, demand the continuance of the established order. But since they are on the whole more sensitive and intelligent than the average, they cannot help being aware of the rottenness of the order which maintains them. Consequently, they are tortured by a conflict between their need to pander91 to a fundamentally self-complacent and blinded public and the impulse to rebel.
In some cases the impulse to rebel is successfully stifled92. Intellectuals of this type plunge93 into specialism and stop their ears to politics. Their chief concern is then either with the skilled trade of satisfying the current demand for romanticism or elegance94; or else it is with subtleties95 which in our day can have no meaning beyond the restricted circle of the intelligentsia themselves. Some of these subtleties are undoubtedly96 of real importance in the life of the mind. They are the growing points of pure intellectual and aesthetic97 experience. The culture of a future and happier age will revert98 to them with interest and enlightenment. But in our day the pursuit even of these "live" subtleties is largely vitiated by the prevailing99 prejudices of our society. Their devotees pursue them less in a spirit of service in the common human enterprise than from a craving100 for withdrawal101 and aristocratic fastidiousness. Consequently even the "live" subtleties tend to degenerate102 into insignificant103 minutiae104.
I am not so foolish as to believe that all intellectuals are rendered sterile105 by capitalism106. There may be some who, in the ivory tower, are even now creating treasures which only a future and more fortunate age will appreciate. Others there certainly are who have successfully surmounted107 their bourgeois78 imitations, and are playing a great part in the cultural change. But one and all are hampered108. Many who are haunted by an obscure sense of the futility109 of contemporary society and their own lives, are yet unable to break loose from the dead hand of the past. They cannot conceive of a better society and a better culture, and so they cannot look forward with hope. Their minds are over-clouded with a vague dread of the disintegration110 of their world. On the other hand many who do succeed in breaking away break out into extravagance. They throw out the baby with the bathwater. Or rather they bury the legacy111 with the corpse112. They spurn113 everything in the traditional culture, and praise uncritically everything which purports114 to belong to the new.
Bearing in mind the disabilities imposed by my class, I have to ask myself whether the very foundations of my own thought are unsound. If so, this book ought not to be written. The more so since in our day too many books are written, and too few that are worth reading.
But to be aware of a danger is to be forearmed against it. And to be aware of two opposite dangers, namely of capitalist and of anti-capitalist prejudice, is to find in each a defence against the other. Moreover I remind myself that one of the ways in which a revolutionary culture might be expected to err75 is in a tendency to do less than justice to the ideas of the social order which it intends to overthrow115. In particular it is likely to disparage116 or ignore such of the perennial human values as the old culture has pharisaically praised and betrayed. Contemporary proletarian and would-be proletarian literature, though some of it is splendidly sincere and creative, reveals none the less the effects of this blindness. This exaggerated rejection117 of all traditional values, just because they are traditional, has, I believe, damaged the cause of the revolutionaries by repelling118 many moderate people who might otherwise have joined them.
All the same, even those traditional values which are perennial need to be re-expressed in concepts suited to the modern temper. In this book I shall try to sketch119 the kind of restatement which I myself find helpful. It will be a restatement not only of the old in the light of the new, but also of the new in the light of the old.
Faced with the chaos120 of the contemporary world, I ask myself whether it is possible to discover any simple, clear and fundamental principles and policies for the guidance of my own life and for the common task of rebuilding human society.
Broadly speaking two heroic kinds of policy are suggested by two very different heroic kinds of people. A third policy, or at least a third attitude of mind, is advocated by a third, less heroic party.
The first heroic party declares that the only way to reform the world is to persuade masses of people to become far more kindly121 and reasonable than usual, in fact to become saints. Nothing, we are told, but a change of heart, a spiritual change, can save the world. The second heroic party insists that no such widespread change of heart can be created by mere17 exhortation122, and that we must begin by changing the structure of society. Only when conditions are favourable, they say, can minds develop sanely123. To raise men to a higher degree of moral integrity without first improving their conditions would be to perform a miracle. To this the first party replies that you cannot change conditions without first creating a widespread desire to do so; and we are nearly all too selfish or cowardly to risk much even for the sake of the new world. The root of our trouble is something to do with the quality of individual minds. So long as most men remain the frail or base creatures that they are, social revolution, it is insisted, cannot produce anything but a fresh tyranny. In this view, what we need is to be shaken out of our lethargy, wakened into a more lucid124 and vigorous frame of mind. Appeal must be made to our noblest impulses. All else will follow. So we are told.
The two views are expressed most strikingly by two kinds of people whom I shall call the saints and the revolutionaries. I shall use the word "saint" in rather a special sense. The genuine saint, whatever his religion, and even if he claims to have no religion, feels that unless he first learns to know himself in relation to the universe or in relation to what he calls his God, and unless he thereby125 gains self-mastery, he can neither know what is truly desirable nor have the strength to live in service of his fellows. The genuine revolutionary, on the other hand, feels that to worry about his own soul is selfish and mean. Instead of brooding on himself as a unique individual, he seeks to understand society, its origins, its present condition, and his own true function in it. He seeks this understanding in order that he may be able to act effectively, that he may be an effective instrument of the historical forces which, he believes, are pressing toward a far-reaching social change.
Though there is much in common in the characters of the saint and the revolutionary at their best, their attitudes to human society are very different. In general, any ordinary person who feels the importance of the values to which saints are loyal is a poor revolutionary; and ordinary "good revolutionaries" are not as a rule saints in the sense that I am giving to the word. They may and ought to be "social saints", in the sense of being wholly devoted126 to the cause of creating a new society. But revolutionaries generally lack that "inner life" which, rightly or wrongly, the saint regards as the root of all strength and understanding.
In the modern world the saints and the revolutionaries are often opposed to one another. The saints tend to regard the revolutionaries as superficial, hasty, rather insincere, self-deceiving, doctrinaire127 and prone128 to sacrifice individuals to abstractions. Sometimes they go so far as to say that many revolutionaries are inspired rather by hate than by love. On the other hand the revolutionaries insist that the saints themselves are the insincere self-deceivers, and moreover, that they are "escapists" who weave a dream-world around themselves, like a cocoon129 to protect them from unpleasant reality.
I believe that the opposition130 between the saints and the revolutionaries is largely due to misconceptions and short-comings on both sides. It does not spring from any insoluble conflict in the central convictions of the two parties. If the mass of ordinary men and women could come to see and feel the complementariness of the saint's characteristic experience, and the revolutionary's characteristic experience, we might have more hope of solving the tragic131 discord132 which is now besetting133 us all, and giving to gangsters134 the opportunity of destroying civilization.
The saint and the revolutionary are both essentially135 heroic. Between them stands the not essentially heroic, but ostensibly clear-headed, sceptic, refusing to be pulled in either direction. He is resolutely136 determined137 to criticize all beliefs, all values, all policies. His effective allegiance is given wholly to intellectual integrity. With John Locke he declares that the troubles of mankind are due mainly to our habit of forming opinions on insufficient138 evidence. Scepticism has undoubtedly played a great part in modern thought; for good and ill. Unfortunately the sceptic's loyalty to intellect tends to distract him from all other values. Indeed one of the main causes of the distress66 of our age is the disintegration of morals caused by the triumph of scepticism, an emotional scepticism which sprang from a well-justified but unbalanced revulsion against superstition139 and humbug140. Scepticism by itself is certainly not enough. It affords no inspiration for the remaking of a world. It is incapable of dealing141 with a situation which demands an heroic change of heart. And undoubtedly unless by one means or another we achieve a widespread and heroic change of heart (and of other things) there is no hope for us. Both saint and revolutionary agree to this; though they propose very different methods of creating it.
To-day neither saintliness alone nor revolutionary zeal142 alone nor scepticism alone can solve the vast and delicate problems of the modern world. But each of them contains an important truth and an important precept143 for action. We need now a kind of glorified144 common sense which can be courageous145 enough and clear-headed enough to grasp the good of each, while avoiding its excesses.
Historically these three temperaments146 and associated doctrines148 have come into prominence149 in a certain order, namely, first saintliness, then scepticism, and now revolutionary zeal. It is perhaps worth while to point out that this process has been in a manner dialectical. It has been a movement from "thesis" to "antithesis150" and on to a comprehensive "synthesis". But the synthesis, I suggest, is incomplete. This is a twofold dialectic which has yet to issue in a more comprehensive synthesis.
The religious attitude, with its emphasis on faith and on morality, generated within itself its own negation151 in the form of scepticism, the exaltation of intellectual integrity at the expense of faith and of morality. But man cannot live by intellect alone. Nor can he live without morality. Revolutionary Marxism is in a sense a synthesis of the claims of the saints and of the sceptics. It combines both the saint's moral fervour and the sceptic's iconoclastic152 contempt for superstition. The synthesis, however, is not complete. The Marxian temperament147 has not yet, I submit, gathered into itself and transmuted153 all that is of perennial value in the religious temperament. Rightly it embodies154 and transmutes155 the sceptic's contempt for superstition; though possibly, as I shall later argue, it sometimes indulges in superstitions156 of its own. No doubt this is inevitable in any comprehensive and militant157 ideology. But the real charge against revolutionary Marxism is that many Marxists tend to regard as mere superstition everything which contemporary science cannot readily sanction. In this respect the thought of actual revolutionaries in our day seems to lag behind the philosophy of Marx and Engels, which is in its very essence flexible and expandable. It can easily be interpreted to accommodate much more than the orthodoxy preached by strict Marxists.
In this book I shall say what it is that I personally have learnt from saints, sceptics and revolutionaries. I shall not attempt an historical study of the three movements of feeling and thought. I shall merely trace the twofold dialectical movement of my own mind in this respect. It is a movement which for me personally, whatever its public value, culminates158 in a hopeful synthesis. At the end of this book I shall venture on one or two speculations159 about the universe as a whole and man's place in it. This I shall do, not out of idle curiosity, but in the belief that such speculation160, so long as it knows itself for what it is, can have a tonic161 effect on the mind. Indeed I believe that in shunning162 all speculation we violate one side of our nature just as much as, by indulging in loose speculation, we violate another side. Speculate we inevitably shall, unless our mental eyes have been destroyed. Therefore let us speculate critically, and without indulging in any confident belief.
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1 surmise | |
v./n.猜想,推测 | |
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2 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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3 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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4 surmised | |
v.臆测,推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 );揣测;猜想 | |
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5 appreciable | |
adj.明显的,可见的,可估量的,可觉察的 | |
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6 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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7 relatively | |
adv.比较...地,相对地 | |
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8 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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9 kindliness | |
n.厚道,亲切,友好的行为 | |
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10 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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11 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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12 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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13 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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14 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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15 apprehends | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的第三人称单数 ); 理解 | |
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16 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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17 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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18 surmises | |
v.臆测,推断( surmise的第三人称单数 );揣测;猜想 | |
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19 questionable | |
adj.可疑的,有问题的 | |
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20 radically | |
ad.根本地,本质地 | |
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21 supple | |
adj.柔软的,易弯的,逢迎的,顺从的,灵活的;vt.使柔软,使柔顺,使顺从;vi.变柔软,变柔顺 | |
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22 suppleness | |
柔软; 灵活; 易弯曲; 顺从 | |
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23 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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25 impels | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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27 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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28 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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29 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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30 materialism | |
n.[哲]唯物主义,唯物论;物质至上 | |
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31 intelligibly | |
adv.可理解地,明了地,清晰地 | |
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32 metaphorical | |
a.隐喻的,比喻的 | |
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33 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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34 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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35 generalizations | |
一般化( generalization的名词复数 ); 普通化; 归纳; 概论 | |
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36 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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37 frustrated | |
adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
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38 entangled | |
adj.卷入的;陷入的;被缠住的;缠在一起的v.使某人(某物/自己)缠绕,纠缠于(某物中),使某人(自己)陷入(困难或复杂的环境中)( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 geographical | |
adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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40 ideology | |
n.意识形态,(政治或社会的)思想意识 | |
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41 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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42 archaic | |
adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的,已不通用的 | |
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43 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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44 solidarity | |
n.团结;休戚相关 | |
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45 communal | |
adj.公有的,公共的,公社的,公社制的 | |
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46 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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47 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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48 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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49 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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50 harmoniously | |
和谐地,调和地 | |
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51 systematic | |
adj.有系统的,有计划的,有方法的 | |
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52 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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53 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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54 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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55 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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56 realization | |
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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57 structurally | |
在结构上 | |
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58 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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59 apocalyptic | |
adj.预示灾祸的,启示的 | |
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60 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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61 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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62 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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63 secluded | |
adj.与世隔绝的;隐退的;偏僻的v.使隔开,使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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64 obsessive | |
adj. 着迷的, 强迫性的, 分神的 | |
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65 distressful | |
adj.苦难重重的,不幸的,使苦恼的 | |
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66 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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67 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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68 stagnate | |
v.停止 | |
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69 ideologies | |
n.思想(体系)( ideology的名词复数 );思想意识;意识形态;观念形态 | |
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70 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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71 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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72 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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73 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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74 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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75 err | |
vi.犯错误,出差错 | |
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76 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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77 perennial | |
adj.终年的;长久的 | |
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78 bourgeois | |
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子 | |
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79 divest | |
v.脱去,剥除 | |
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80 germinating | |
n.& adj.发芽(的)v.(使)发芽( germinate的现在分词 ) | |
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81 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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82 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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83 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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84 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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85 dominant | |
adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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86 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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87 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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88 nurtured | |
养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 ); 培育; 滋长; 助长 | |
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89 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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90 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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91 pander | |
v.迎合;n.拉皮条者,勾引者;帮人做坏事的人 | |
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92 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
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93 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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94 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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95 subtleties | |
细微( subtlety的名词复数 ); 精细; 巧妙; 细微的差别等 | |
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96 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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97 aesthetic | |
adj.美学的,审美的,有美感 | |
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98 revert | |
v.恢复,复归,回到 | |
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99 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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100 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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101 withdrawal | |
n.取回,提款;撤退,撤军;收回,撤销 | |
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102 degenerate | |
v.退步,堕落;adj.退步的,堕落的;n.堕落者 | |
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103 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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104 minutiae | |
n.微小的细节,细枝末节;(常复数)细节,小事( minutia的名词复数 ) | |
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105 sterile | |
adj.不毛的,不孕的,无菌的,枯燥的,贫瘠的 | |
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106 capitalism | |
n.资本主义 | |
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107 surmounted | |
战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 ); 克服(困难); 居于…之上; 在…顶上 | |
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108 hampered | |
妨碍,束缚,限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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110 disintegration | |
n.分散,解体 | |
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111 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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112 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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113 spurn | |
v.拒绝,摈弃;n.轻视的拒绝;踢开 | |
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114 purports | |
v.声称是…,(装得)像是…的样子( purport的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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116 disparage | |
v.贬抑,轻蔑 | |
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117 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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118 repelling | |
v.击退( repel的现在分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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119 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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120 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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121 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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122 exhortation | |
n.劝告,规劝 | |
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123 sanely | |
ad.神志清楚地 | |
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124 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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125 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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126 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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127 doctrinaire | |
adj.空论的 | |
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128 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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129 cocoon | |
n.茧 | |
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130 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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131 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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132 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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133 besetting | |
adj.不断攻击的v.困扰( beset的现在分词 );不断围攻;镶;嵌 | |
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134 gangsters | |
匪徒,歹徒( gangster的名词复数 ) | |
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135 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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136 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
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137 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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138 insufficient | |
adj.(for,of)不足的,不够的 | |
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139 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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140 humbug | |
n.花招,谎话,欺骗 | |
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141 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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142 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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143 precept | |
n.戒律;格言 | |
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144 glorified | |
美其名的,变荣耀的 | |
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145 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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146 temperaments | |
性格( temperament的名词复数 ); (人或动物的)气质; 易冲动; (性情)暴躁 | |
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147 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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148 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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149 prominence | |
n.突出;显著;杰出;重要 | |
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150 antithesis | |
n.对立;相对 | |
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151 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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152 iconoclastic | |
adj.偶像破坏的,打破旧习的 | |
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153 transmuted | |
v.使变形,使变质,把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154 embodies | |
v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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155 transmutes | |
v.使变形,使变质,把…变成…( transmute的第三人称单数 ) | |
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156 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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157 militant | |
adj.激进的,好斗的;n.激进分子,斗士 | |
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158 culminates | |
v.达到极点( culminate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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159 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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160 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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161 tonic | |
n./adj.滋补品,补药,强身的,健体的 | |
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162 shunning | |
v.避开,回避,避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
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