Why is this? The reason is that the strange and bitter miracle of life is nowhere else so evident as in our youth. And what is the essence of that strange and bitter miracle of life which we feel so poignantly3, so unutterably, with such a bitter pain and joy, when we are young? It is this: that being rich, we are so poor; that being mighty5, we can yet have nothing, that seeing, breathing, smelling, tasting all around us the impossible wealth and glory of this earth, feeling with an intolerable certitude that the whole structure of the enchanted6 life — the most fortunate, wealthy, good, and happy life that any man has ever known — is ours — is ours at once, immediately and for ever, the moment that we choose to take a step, or stretch a hand, or say a word — we yet know that we can really keep, hold, take, and possess for ever — nothing. All passes; nothing lasts: the moment that we put our hand upon it it melts away like smoke, is gone for ever, and the snake is eating at our heart again; we see then what we are and what our lives must come to.
A young man is so strong, so mad, so certain, and so lost. He has everything and he is able to use nothing. He hurls7 the great shoulder of his strength for ever against phantasmal barriers, he is a wave whose power explodes in lost mid-oceans under timeless skies, he reaches out to grip a fume8 of painted smoke; he wants all, feels the thirst and power for everything, and finally gets nothing. In the end, he is destroyed by his own strength, devoured9 by his own hunger, impoverished10 by his own wealth. Thoughtless of money or the accumulation of material possessions, he is none the less defeated in the end by his own greed — a greed that makes the avarice11 of King Midas seem paltry12 by comparison.
And that is the reason why, when youth is gone, every man will look back upon that period of his life with infinite sorrow and regret. It is the bitter sorrow and regret of a man who knows that once he had a great talent and wasted it, of a man who knows that once he had a great treasure and got nothing from it, of a man who knows that he had strength enough for everything and never used it.
All youth is bound to be “misspent”; there is something in its very nature that makes it so, and that is why all men regret it. And that regret becomes more poignant4 as the knowledge comes to us that this great waste of youth was utterly13 unnecessary, as we discover, with a bitter irony14 of mirth, that youth is something which only young men have, and which only old men know how to use. And for that reason, in later years, we all look back upon our youth with sorrow and regret — seeing what a wealth was ours if we had used it — remembering Weisberg, Snodgrass, and O’Hare — finally remembering with tenderness and joy the good bleak15 visage of the pavement cipher16 who was the first friend we ever knew in the great city — in whose grey face its million strange and secret mysteries were all compact — and who was our friend, our brother, and this earth’s nameless man. And so Eugene recalled Abraham Jones.
This ugly, good, and loyal creature had almost forgotten his real name: the “Jones,” of course, was one of those random17 acquisitions which, bestowed18 in some blind, dateless moment of the past, evoked19 a picture of those nameless hordes20 of driven and frightened people who had poured into this country within the last half-century, and whose whole lives had been determined21 for them by the turn of a word, the bend of a street, the drift of the crowd, or a surly and infuriated gesture by some ignorant tyrant22 of an official. In such a way, Abe Jones’s father, a Polish Jew, without a word of Yankee English in his throat, had come to Castle Garden forty years before and, stunned23 and frightened by the moment’s assault of some furious little swine of a customs inspector24, had stood dumbly while the man snarled25 and menaced him: “What’s yer name? . . . Huh? . . . Don’t yuh know what yer name is? . . . Huh? . . . Ain’t yuh got a name? . . . Huh?” To all this the poor Jew had no answer but a stare of stupefaction and terror: at length a kind of frenzy26 seized him — a torrent27 of Polish, Jewish, Yiddish speech poured from his mouth, but never a word his snarling28 inquisitor could understand. The Jew begged, swore, wept, pleaded, prayed, entreated29 — a thousand tales of horror, brutal30 violence and tyranny swept through his terror-stricken mind, the whole vast obscene chronicle of immigration gleaned31 from the mouths of returned adventurers or from the letters of those who had triumphantly32 passed the gates of wrath33: he showed his papers, he clasped his hands, he swore by all the oaths he knew that all was as it should be, that he had done all he had been told to do, that there was no trick or fraud or cheat in anything he did or said, and all the time, the foul34, swollen35, snarling face kept thrusting at him with the same maddening and indecipherable curse: “Yer name! . . . Yer name! . . . Fer Christ’s sake don’t yuh know yer own name? . . . All right!” he shouted suddenly, furiously, “If yuh ain’t got a name I’ll give yuh one! . . . If yuh ain’t got sense enough to tell me what yer own name is, I’ll find one for yuh!” The snarling face came closer: “Yer name’s Jones! See! J-o-n-e-s. Jones! That’s a good Amurrican name. See? I’m giving yuh a good honest Amurrican name that a lot of good decent Amurricans have got. Yuh’ve gotta try to live up to it and desoive it! See? Yer in Amurrica now, Jones. . . . See? . . . Yuh’ve gotta t’ink fer yerself, Jones. In Amurrica we know our own name. We’ve been trained to t’ink fer ourselves over here! . . . See? Yer not one of them foreign dummies36 any more! . . . Yer Jones — Jones — Jones!” he yelled. “See!”— and in such a way, on the impulsion of brutal authority and idiotic37 chance, Abe’s father had been given his new name. Eugene did not know what Abe’s real name was: Abe had told him once, and he remembered it as something pleasant, musical, and alien to our tongue, difficult for our mouths to shape and utter.
Already, when he had first met Abe Jones in the first class he taught, the process of mutation38 had carried so far that he was trying to rid himself of the accursed “Abraham,” reducing it to an ambiguous initial, and signing his papers with a simple unrevealing “A. Jones,” as whales are said to have lost through atrophy39 the use of legs with which they once walked across the land, but still to carry upon their bodies the rudimentary stump40. Now, in the last year, he had dared to make a final transformation41, shocking, comical, pitifully clumsy in its effort at concealment42 and deception43: when Eugene had tried to find his name and number in the telephone directory a month before, among the great grey regiment44 of Joneses, the familiar, quaint45, and homely46 “Abe” had disappeared — at length he found him coyly sheltered under the gentlemanly obscurity of A. Alfred Jones. The transformation, thus, had been complete: he was now, in name at any rate, a member of the great Gentile aristocracy of Jones; and just as “Jones” had been thrust by violence upon his father, so had Abe taken violently, by theft and rape47, the “Alfred.” There was something mad and appalling48 in the bravado49, the effrontery50, and the absurdity51 of the attempt: what did he hope to do with such a name? What reward did he expect to win? Was he engaged in some vast conspiracy52 in which all depended on the SOUND and not the APPEARANCE of deception? Was he using the mails in some scheme to swindle or defraud53? Was he carrying on by correspondence an impassioned courtship of some ancient Christian54 maiden55 with one tooth and a million shining dollars? Or was it part of a gigantic satire56 on Gentile genteelness, country-club Christianity, a bawdy57 joke perpetrated at the expense of sixty thousand anguished58 and protesting Social Registerites? That he should hope actually to palm himself off as a Gentile was unthinkable, because one look at him revealed instantly the whole story of his race and origin: if all the Polish–Russian Jews that ever swarmed59 along the ghettoes of the earth had been compacted in a single frame the physical result might have been something amazingly like Eugene’s friend, Abraham Jones.
The whole flag and banner of his race was in the enormous putty-coloured nose that bulged60, flared61 and sprouted62 with the disproportionate extravagance of a caricature or a dill-pickle over his pale, slightly freckled63 and rather meagre face; he had a wide, thin, somewhat cruel-looking mouth, dull weak eyes that stared, blinked, and grew misty64 with a murky65, somewhat slimily ropy feeling behind his spectacles, a low, dull, and slanting66 forehead, almost reptilian67 in its ugliness, that sloped painfully back an inch or two into the fringes of unpleasantly greasy68 curls and coils of dark, short, screwy hair. He was about the middle height, and neither thin nor fat: his figure was rather big-boned and angular, and yet it gave an impression of meagreness, spareness, and somewhat tallowy toughness which so many city people have, as if their ten thousand days and nights upon the rootless pavement had dried all juice and succulence out of them, as if asphalt and brick and steel had got into the conduits of their blood and spirit, leaving them with a quality that is tough, dry, meagre, tallowy, and somewhat calloused69.
What earth had nourished him? Had he been born and grown there among the asphalt lilies and the pavement wheat? What corn was growing from the cobble-stones? Or was there never a cry of earth up through the beaten and unyielding cement of the streets? Had he forgotten the immortal70 and attentive71 earth still waiting at the roots of steel?
No. Beneath that cone72 of neat grey felt, behind the dreary73, tallowed pigment74 of his face, which had that thickened, stunned, and deadened look one often sees upon the faces of old bruisers, as if the violent and furious assault of stone and steel, the million harsh metallic75 clangours, the brutal stupefaction of the streets, at length had dried the flesh and thickened the skin, and blunted, numbed76 and calloused the aching tumult77 of the tortured and tormented78 senses — there still flowed blood as red and wet as any which ever swarmed into the earth below the laurel bush. He was a part, a drop, an indecipherable fraction of these grey tides of swarming79 tissue that passed in ceaseless weft and counter-weft upon the beaten pavements, at once a typical man-swarm atom and a living man. Indistinguishable in his speech, gait, dress, and tallowy pigmentation from the typical cell-and-pavement article, at the same time, although ugly, meagre, toughened, gnarled and half-articulate, angular as brick and spare as steel webbing, with little juice and succulence, he was honest, loyal, somehow good and memorable80, grained with the life and movement of a thousand streets, seasoned and alert, a living character, a city man. In that horrible desperation of drowning and atomic desolation among the numberless hordes that swept along the rootless pavements, in Eugene’s madness to know, own, intrude81 behind the million barriers of brick, to root and entrench82 himself in the hive, he seized upon that dreary, grey and hopeless-looking Jew.
This was his history:
Abraham Jones was one of the youngest members of a large family. In addition to two brothers, younger than himself, there were three older brothers and two sisters. The family life was close, complex, and passionate83, torn by fierce dislikes and dissensions, menaced by division among some of its members, held together by equally fierce loyalties84 and loves among the others. Abe disliked his father and hated one of his older brothers. He loved one of his sisters and was attached to the other one by a kind of loyalty85 of silence.
She, Sylvia, was a woman of perhaps thirty-five years when Eugene first saw her; she had not lived at home for ten years, she was a febrile, nervous, emaciated86, highly enamelled city woman — a lover of what was glittering and electric in life, caught up in the surge of a furious and feverish87 life, and yet not content with it, dissonant88, irritable89 and impatient. Like the rest of her family she had been forced to shift for herself since childhood: she had been first a salesgirl, then a worker in a millinery shop, and now, through her own cleverness, smartness, and ability, she had achieved a very considerable success in business. She ran a hat shop on Second Avenue, which Abe told him was the Broadway of the lower East Side: she had a small, elegant, glittering jewel of a shop there, blazing with hard electric light and smartly and tastefully dressed with windows filled with a hundred jaunty90 styles in women’s hats. She did a thriving business and employed several assistants.
The first time Eugene met her, one day when Abe had taken him home to the flat where he lived with his mother, two of his brothers, and Sylvia’s child, he thought she had the look and quality of an actress much more than of a business woman. There was a remarkably91 electric glitter and unnaturalness92 about her: it seemed as if the only light that had ever shone upon her had been electric light, the only air she could breathe with any certitude and joy the clamorous93 and electric air of Broadway. Her face belonged, indeed, among those swarms94 of livid, glittering, night-time faces that pour along the street, with that mysterious fraternity of night-time people who all seem to speak a common language and to be bound together by some central interest and communication, who live mysteriously and gaudily95 without discoverable employments, in a world remote and alien. Sylvia was a woman of middling height, but of a dark and almost bird-like emaciation96: all the flesh seemed to have been starved, wasted, and consumed from her by this devil of feverish and electric unrest and discontent that glittered with almost a drugged brilliance97 in her large dark eyes. Every visible portion of her body — hair, eyebrows98, lashes99, lips, skin and nails — was greased, waved, leaded, rouged100, plucked, polished, enamelled and varnished101 with the conventional extravagance of a ritualistic mask until now it seemed that all of the familiar qualities of living tissue had been consumed and were replaced by the painted image, the varnished mask of a face, designed in its unreality to catch, reflect, and realize effectively the thousand lurid102 shifting lights and weathers of an electric, nocturnal, and inhuman103 world. Moreover, she was dressed in the most extreme and sharpest exaggeration of the latest style, her thin long hands, which were unpleasantly and ominously104 veined with blue, and her fragile wrists, which were so thin and white that light made a pink transparency in them when she lifted them, were covered, loaded — one vast encrusted jewelled glitter of diamond rings and bracelets105: a fortune in jewellery blazed heavily and shockingly on her bony little hands.
Her life had been hard, painful, difficult, full of work and sorrow. Ten years before, when she was twenty-five years old, she had had her first — and probably her last — love affair. She had fallen in love with an actor at the Settlement Guild106 — a little East Side theatre maintained by the donations of two rich ?sthetic females. She had left her family and become his mistress: within less than a year the man deserted107 her, leaving her pregnant.
Her child was a boy: she had no maternal108 feeling and her son, now nine years old, had been brought up by Abe’s mother and by Abe. Sylvia rarely saw her son: she had long ago deserted the orthodoxy of Jewish family life; she had a new, impatient, driving, feverish city life of her own, she visited her family every month or so, and it was then, and only then, that she saw her child. This boy, Jimmy, was a bright, quick, attractive youngster, with a tousled sheaf of taffy-coloured hair, and with the freckled, tough, puggish face and the cocky mutilated pavement argot109 and assurance of the city urchin110: he was nevertheless excellently clothed, schooled, and cared for, for the old woman, Abe’s mother, watched and guarded over him with the jealous brooding apprehension111 of an ancient hen, and Sylvia herself was most generous in her expenditures112 and benefactions, not only for the child, but also for the family.
The relation between Sylvia and her illegitimate child Jimmy was remarkable113. He never called her “mother”; in fact, neither seemed to have a name for the other, save an impersonal114 and rather awkward “You.” Moreover, the attitude of both mother and child was marked by a quality that was hard, knowing, and cynical115 in its conversation: when she spoke116 to him her tone and manner were as cold and impersonal as if the child had been a stranger or some chance acquaintance, and this manner was also touched by a quality that was resigned and somewhat mocking — with a mockery which seemed to be directed toward herself more than toward anyone, as if in the physical presence of the boy she saw the visible proof and living evidence of her folly117, the bitter fruit of the days of innocence118, love, and guileless belief, and as if she was conscious that a joke had been played on both her and her child. And the boy seemed to understand and accept this feeling with a sharp correspondence of feeling, almost incredible in a child. And yet they did not hate each other: their conversations were cynically119 wise and impersonal and yet curiously120 honest and respectful. She would look at him for a moment with an air of cold and casual detachment, and that faint smile of mockery when, on one of her visits home, he would come in, panting and dishevelled, a tough and impish urchin, from the street.
“Come here, you,” she would say at length, quietly, harshly. “Whatcha been doin’ to yourself?” she would ask, in the same hard tone, as deftly121 she straightened and reknotted his tie, smoothed out his rumpled122 sheaf of oaken-coloured hair. “You look as if yuh just crawled out of someone’s ash-can.”
“Ah!” he said in his tough, high city-urchin’s voice, “a coupla guys tried to get wise wit’ me an’ I socked one of ’em. Dat’s all!”
“Oh-ho-ho-ho!”— Abe turned his grey grinning face prayerfully to heaven and laughed softly, painfully.
“Fightin”, huh?” said Sylvia. “Do you remember what I told you last time?” she said in a warning tone. “If I catch yuh fightin’ again there’s goin’ to be no more ball games. YOU’LL stay HOME next time.”
“Ah!” he cried again in a high protesting tone. “What’s a guy gonna do? Do you t’ink I’m gonna let a coupla mugs like dat get away wit’ moidah?”
“Oh-ho-ho-ho!” cried Abe, lifting his great nose prayerfully again; then with a sudden shift to reproof123 and admonition, he said sternly: “What kind of talk do you call that? Huh? Didn’t I tell you not to say ‘mugs’?”
“Ah, what’s a guy gonna say?” cried Jimmy. “I neveh could loin all dem big woids, noway.”
“My God! I wish you’d listen to ‘m,” his mother said in a tone of hard and weary resignation. “I suppose that’s what I’m sendin’ him to school for! ‘LOIN, WOIDS, NOWAY, T’INK! Is THAT the way to talk?” she demanded harshly. “Is THAT what they teach yuh?”
“Say THINK!” commanded Abe.
“I DID say it,” the child answered evasively.
“Go on! You DIDN’T! You didn’t say it right. I’ll bet you can’t say it right. Come on! Let’s hear you: THINK!”
“T’ink,” Jimmy answered immediately.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho!”— and Abe lifted his grinning face heavenward, saying, “Say! This is rich!”
“Can yuh beat it?” the woman asked.
And, for a moment she continued to look at her son with a glance that was quizzical, tinged124 with a mocking resignation, and yet with a cold, detached affection. Then her long blue-veined hands twitched125 nervously126 and impatiently until all the crusted jewels on her wrists and fingers blazed with light: she sighed sharply and, looking away, dismissed the child from her consideration.
Although the boy saw very little of his mother, Abe watched and guarded over him as tenderly as if he had been his father. If the child were late in coming home from school, if he had not had his lunch before going out to play, if he remained away too long Abe showed his concern and distress127 very plainly, and he spoke very sharply and sternly at times to the other members of the family if he thought they had been lax in some matter pertaining128 to the boy.
“Did Jimmy get home from school yet?” he would ask sharply. “Did he eat before he went out again? . . . Well, why did you let him get away, then, before he had his lunch? . . . For heaven’s sake! You’re here all day long: you could at least do that much — I can’t be here to watch him all the time, you know — don’t you know the kid ought never to go out to play until he’s had something to eat?”
Eugene saw the child for the first time one day when Abe had taken him home for dinner: Abe, in his crisp neat shirt-sleeves, was seated at the table devouring129 his food with a wolfish and prowling absorption, and yet in a cleanly and fastidious way, when the child entered. The boy paused in surprise when he saw Eugene: his wheaten sheaf of hair fell down across one eye, one trouser leg had come unbanded at the knee and flapped down to his ankle, and for a moment he looked at Eugene with a rude frank stare of his puggish freckled face.
Abe, prowling upward from his food, glanced at the boy and grinned; then, jerking his head sharply toward Eugene, he said roughly:
“Whatcha think of this guv? Huh?”
“Who is he?” the boy asked in his high tough little voice, never moving his curious gaze from Eugene.
“He’s my teacher,” Abe said. “He’s the guy that teaches me.”
“Ah, g’wan!” the child answered in a protesting tone, still fixing Eugene with his steady and puzzled stare.
“Whatcha handin’ me? He’s NOT!”
“Sure he is! No kiddin’!” Abe replied. “He’s the guy that teaches me English.”
“Ah, he’s NOT!” the boy answered decisively. “Yuh’re bein’ wise.”
“What makes you think he’s not?” Abe asked.
“If he’s an English teacher,” Jimmy said triumphantly, “w’y don’t he say somet’ing? W’y don’t he use some of dose woids?”
“Oh-ho-ho-ho!” cried Abe, lifting his great bleak nose aloft. “Say! . . . This is good! . . . This is swell130! . . . Say, that’s some kid!” he said when the boy had departed. “There’s not much gets by HIM!” And lifting his grey face heavenward again, he laughed softly, painfully, in gleeful and tender reminiscence.
Thus, the whole care and government of the boy had been entrusted131 to Abe and his mother: Sylvia herself, although she paid liberally all her child’s expenses, took no other interest in him. She was a hard, feverish, bitter, and over-stimulated woman, and yet she had a kind of harsh loyalty to her family: she was, in a fierce and smouldering way, very ambitious for Abe, who seemed to be the most promising132 of her brothers: she was determined that he should go to college and become a lawyer, and his fees at the university, in part at any rate, were paid by his sister — in part only, not because Sylvia would not have paid all without complaint, but because Abe insisted on paying as much as he could through his own labour, for Abe, too, had embedded133 in him a strong granite134 of independence, the almost surly dislike, of a strong and honest character, of being beholden to anyone for favours. On this score, indeed, he had the most sensitive and tender pride of anyone Eugene had ever known.
At home Abe had become, by unspoken consent, the head of a family which now consisted only of his mother, two brothers, and his sister’s illegitimate child Jimmy. Two of his older brothers, who were in business together, had married and lived away from home, as did Sylvia, and another sister, Rose, who had married a musician in a theatre orchestra a year or two before; she was a dark, tortured and sensitive Jewess with a big nose and one blind eye. Her physical resemblance to Abe was marked. She was a very talented pianist, and once or twice he took Eugene to visit her on Sunday afternoons: she played for them in a studio room in which candles were burning and she carried on very technical and knowing conversations about the work of various composers with her brother. Abe listened to the music when she played with an obscure and murky smile: he seemed to know a great deal about music: it awakened135 a thousand subtle echoes in his Jewish soul, but for Eugene, somehow, the music, and something arrogant136, scornful, and secretive in their knowingness, together with the dreary consciousness of a winter’s Sunday afternoon outside, the barren streets, the harsh red waning137 light of day, and a terrible sensation of thousands of other knowing Jews — the men with little silken moustaches — who were coming from concerts at that moment, awakened in him vague but powerful emotions of nakedness, rootlessness, futility138 and misery139, which even the glorious memory of the power, exultancy140 and joy of poetry could not conquer or subdue142. The scene evoked for him suddenly a thousand images of a sterile143 and damnable incertitude144, in which man groped indefinitely along the smooth metallic sides of a world in which there was neither warmth, nor depth, nor door to enter, nor walls to shelter him: he got suddenly a vision of a barren Sunday and a grey despair, of ugly streets and of lights beginning to wink145 and flicker146 above cheap moving-picture houses and chop-suey restaurants, and of a raucous147 world of cheap and flashy people, as trashy as their foods, as trivial and infertile148 as their accursed amusements, and finally of the Jews returning through a thousand streets, in that waning and desolate149 light, from symphony concerts, an image which, so far from giving a note of hope, life, and passionate certitude and joy to the wordless horror of this damned and blasted waste of Dead–Man’s Land, seemed to enhance it rather and to give it a conclusive150 note of futility and desolation.
Abe and his sister did not seem to feel this: instead the scene, the time, the day, the waning light, the barren streets, the music, awakened in them something familiar and obscure, a dark and painful joy, a certitude Eugene did not feel. They argued, jibed151, and sneered152 harshly and arrogantly153 at each other: their words were sharp and cutting, impregnated with an aggressive and unpleasant intellectualism; they called each other fools and sentimental154 ignoramuses, and yet they did not seem to be wounded or offended by this harsh intercourse155: they seemed rather to derive156 a kind of bitter satisfaction from it.
Already, the first year Eugene had known him he had discovered this strange quality in these people: they seemed to delight in jeering157 and jibing158 at one another; and at the same time their harsh mockery had in it an element of obscure and disquieting159 affection. At this time Abe was carrying on, week by week, a savage160 correspondence with another young Jew who had been graduated with him from the same class in high school. He always had in his pocket at least one of the letters this boy had written him, and he was for ever giving it to Eugene to read, and then insisting that he read his answer. In these letters they flew at each other with undisciplined ferocity, they hurled161 denunciation, mockery, and contempt at each other, and they seemed to exult141 in it. The tone of their letters was marked by an affectation of cold impersonality162 and austerity, and yet this obviously was only a threadbare cloak to the furious storm of personal insult and invective163, the desire to crow over the other man and humiliate164 him, which seemed to delight them. “In your last letter,” one would write, “I see that the long-expected débacle has now occurred. In our last year at high school I saw occasional gleams of adult intelligence in your otherwise infantile and adolescent intellect, and I had some hope of saving you, but I now see my hopes were wasted — your puerile165 remarks on Karl Marx, Anatole France, et al., show you up as the fat-headed bourgeois166 you always were, and I accordingly wash my hands of you. You reveal plainly that your intellect is incapable167 of grasping the issues involved in modern socialism: you are a romantic individualist and you will find everything you say elegantly embalmed168 in the works of the late Lord Byron, which is where you belong also: your mother should dress you up in a cowboy suit and give you a toy pistol to play with before you hurt yourself playing around with great big rough grown-up men.”
Abe would read Eugene one of these letters, grinning widely with Kike delight, lifting his grinning face and laughing softly, “Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!” as he came to some particularly venomous insult.
“But who wrote you such a letter?” Eugene demanded.
“Oh, a guy I went to school with,” he answered, “a friend of mine!”
“A friend of yours! Is that the kind of letter that your friends write you?”
“Sure,” he said. “Why not? He’s a good guy. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s got bats in the belfry, that’s all. But wait till you see what I wrote HIM!” he cried, grinning exultantly169 as he took his own letter from his pocket. “Wait till you see what I call HIM! Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!”— softly, painfully, he laughed. “Say, this is rich!” and gleefully he would read his answer: five closely typed pages of bitter insult and vituperation.
Another astonishing and disquieting circumstance of this brutal correspondence was now revealed: this extraordinary “friend” of Abe’s, who wrote him these insulting letters, had not gone abroad, nor did he live in some remote and distant city. When Eugene asked Abe where this savage critic lived, he answered: “Oh, a couple of blocks from where I live.”
“But do you ever see him?”
“Sure. Why not?” he said, looking at Eugene in a puzzled way. “We grew up together. I see him all the time.”
“And yet you write this fellow letters and he writes you, when you live only a block apart and see each other all the time?”
“Sure. Why not?” said Abe.
He saw nothing curious or unusual in the circumstance, and yet there was something disturbing and unpleasant about it: in all these letters Eugene had observed, below the tirades170 of abuse, an obscure, indefinable, and murky emotionalism that was somehow ugly.
Within a few months, however, this strange communication with his Jewish comrade ceased abruptly171: Eugene began to see Abe, in the halls and corridors of the university, squiring various Jewish girls around with a sheepish and melancholy172 look. His lust173 for letter-writing still raged with unabated violence, although now the subjects of his correspondence were women. His attitude towards girls had always been cold and scornful: he regarded their cajoleries and enticements with a fishy174 eye and with a vast Jewish caution and suspiciousness, and he laughed scornfully at anyone who allowed himself to be ensnared. Like many people who feel deeply, and who are powerfully affected175 by the slightest and remotest changes in their emotions, he had convinced himself that he was a creature whose every action was governed by the operations of cool reason, and accordingly now that his feelings were powerfully and romantically involved in thoughts about several of these warm and luscious-looking Jewish wenches, he convinced himself that he “cared only for their minds” and that what he really sought from them was the stimulation176 of intellectual companionship. Accordingly, the love-letters which this great-nosed innocent now wrote to them, and read to Eugene, were extraordinary and unwitting productions of defence and justification177.
“ . . . I think I observe in your last letter,” Abe would write, “traces of that romantic sentimentality which we have both seen so often in these childish lives around us but from which you and I long ago freed ourselves. As you know, Florence, we both agreed at the beginning that we would not spoil our friendship by the intrusion of a puerile and outmoded romanticism. Sex can play no part in our relations, Florence: it is at best a simple biological necessity, the urge of the hungry animal which should be recognized as such and satisfied without intruding178 on the higher faculties179. Have you read Havelock Ellis yet? If not, you must read him without further delay. . . . So Myrtle Goldberg really thought I was in earnest that night of the dance. . . . Ye Gods! It is to laugh! Ha-ha! What fools these mortals be . . . I laugh, and yet I do not laugh . . . I laugh and observe my laughter, and then there is yet another level of reality which observes my laughter at my laughter. . . . I play the clown with an ironic180 heart and put on the grinning mask these fools wish to see. . . . O tempora! O mores181!”— etcetera.
And yet these same letters, in which he protested the cold detachment of his spirit, his freedom from the romantic fleshliness which degraded the lives of lesser182 men, were invariably tagged and embellished183 by little verses of his own contriving184, all of them inspired by the emotion he pretended to despise. He always had a number of these little poems written down in a small note-book of black leather which he carried with him, and in which, at this time, with a precise and meticulous185 hand, he noted186 down his rarest thoughts, excerpts187 from books he had been reading, and these brief poems. At this lime Abe was in a state of obscure and indefinable evolution: it was impossible to say what he would become, or what form his life would take, nor could he have told, himself. He walked along at a stooping loping gait, his face prowling around mistrustfully and with a glance full of tortured discontent: he was tormented by a dozen obscure desires and purposes and by a deep but murky emotionalism: his flesh was ugly, bowed and meagre — conscious of a dreary inferiority (thus, in later and more prosperous years, he confessed to Eugene that he loved to abuse and “order around” brusquely the waiters in restaurants, because of the feeling of power and authority it gave him), but his spirit was sustained by an immense and towering vanity, a gloomy egotism which told him he was not as other men, that his thoughts and feelings were too profound and rare to be understood and valued by the base world about him. At the same time he was secretly and fiercely ambitious, although the energy of his ambition was scattered188 in a half-dozen directions and could fasten on no purpose: by turn, he wanted to be a teacher and a great investigator189 in the sciences — and in this he might have succeeded, for he showed a brilliant aptness in biology and physics — or an economist190, a critic of literature, an essayist, a historian, a poet, or a novelist. His desire was high: at this time he did not want to make money; he regarded a life that was given up to money-making with contempt, and although he sometimes spoke of the study of medicine, he looked at the profession of law, which was the profession his sister and his family wanted him to follow, with horror and revulsion: he shrank with disgust from the prospect191 of joining the hordes of beak-nosed crooks192, poured out of the law school year by year and who were adept193 in every dodge194 of dishonourable trickery, in working every crooked195 wire, or squirming through each rat’s hole of escape and evasion196 the vast machinery197 of the law afforded them.
Such a man was Abe Jones when Eugene first knew him: dreary, tortured, melancholy, dully intellectual and joylessly poetic198, his spirit gloomily engulfed199 in a great cloud of Yiddish murk, a grey pavement cipher, an atom of the slums, a blind sea-crawl in the drowning tides of the man-swarm, and yet, pitifully, tremendously, with a million other dreary Hebrew yearners, convinced that he was the Messiah for which the earth was groaning200. Such was he in the state of becoming, an indefinable shape before necessity and his better parts — the hard, savage, tough and honest city sinew, hardened the mould — made a man of him — this was Abe at this time, an obscure and dreary chrysalis, and yet a dogged, loyal, and faithful friend, the salt of the earth, a wonderfully good, rare, and high person.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
lament
|
|
| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
poignantly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
poignant
|
|
| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
enchanted
|
|
| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
hurls
|
|
| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的第三人称单数 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
fume
|
|
| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
impoverished
|
|
| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
avarice
|
|
| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
paltry
|
|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
cipher
|
|
| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
evoked
|
|
| [医]诱发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
hordes
|
|
| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
snarled
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
snarling
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
gleaned
|
|
| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
swollen
|
|
| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
dummies
|
|
| n.仿制品( dummy的名词复数 )；橡皮奶头；笨蛋；假传球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
idiotic
|
|
| adj.白痴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
mutation
|
|
| n.变化，变异，转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
atrophy
|
|
| n./v.萎缩，虚脱，衰退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
concealment
|
|
| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
deception
|
|
| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
rape
|
|
| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
bravado
|
|
| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
effrontery
|
|
| n.厚颜无耻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
defraud
|
|
| vt.欺骗，欺诈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
satire
|
|
| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
bawdy
|
|
| adj.淫猥的，下流的；n.粗话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
anguished
|
|
| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
swarmed
|
|
| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
bulged
|
|
| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
Flared
|
|
| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
sprouted
|
|
| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
murky
|
|
| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
reptilian
|
|
| adj.（像）爬行动物的；（像）爬虫的；卑躬屈节的；卑鄙的n.两栖动物；卑劣的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
greasy
|
|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
calloused
|
|
| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
cone
|
|
| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pigment
|
|
| n.天然色素，干粉颜料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
metallic
|
|
| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
numbed
|
|
| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
swarming
|
|
| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
intrude
|
|
| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
entrench
|
|
| v.使根深蒂固；n.壕沟；防御设施 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
loyalties
|
|
| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
emaciated
|
|
| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
dissonant
|
|
| adj.不和谐的；不悦耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
irritable
|
|
| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
jaunty
|
|
| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
unnaturalness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
clamorous
|
|
| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
swarms
|
|
| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
gaudily
|
|
| adv.俗丽地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
emaciation
|
|
| n.消瘦，憔悴，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
brilliance
|
|
| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
rouged
|
|
| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
varnished
|
|
| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
lurid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
inhuman
|
|
| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
bracelets
|
|
| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
guild
|
|
| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
argot
|
|
| n.隐语，黑话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
urchin
|
|
| n.顽童；海胆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
expenditures
|
|
| n.花费( expenditure的名词复数 )；使用；（尤指金钱的）支出额；（精力、时间、材料等的）耗费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
impersonal
|
|
| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
cynically
|
|
| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
deftly
|
|
| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
rumpled
|
|
| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
reproof
|
|
| n.斥责，责备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
pertaining
|
|
| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
devouring
|
|
| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
embedded
|
|
| a.扎牢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
arrogant
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
waning
|
|
| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
futility
|
|
| n.无用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
exultancy
|
|
| n.大喜，狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
141
exult
|
|
| v.狂喜，欢腾；欢欣鼓舞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
subdue
|
|
| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
sterile
|
|
| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
incertitude
|
|
| n.疑惑，不确定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
flicker
|
|
| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
raucous
|
|
| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
infertile
|
|
| adj.不孕的；不肥沃的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
conclusive
|
|
| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
jibed
|
|
| v.与…一致( jibe的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
sneered
|
|
| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
arrogantly
|
|
| adv.傲慢地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
derive
|
|
| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
jeering
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
jibing
|
|
| v.与…一致( jibe的现在分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
159
disquieting
|
|
| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
hurled
|
|
| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
impersonality
|
|
| n.无人情味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
invective
|
|
| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
humiliate
|
|
| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
puerile
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
bourgeois
|
|
| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
embalmed
|
|
| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
exultantly
|
|
| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
tirades
|
|
| 激烈的长篇指责或演说( tirade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
fishy
|
|
| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
stimulation
|
|
| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
intruding
|
|
| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
ironic
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
mores
|
|
| n.风俗，习惯，民德，道德观念 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
embellished
|
|
| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
contriving
|
|
| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
meticulous
|
|
| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
excerpts
|
|
| n.摘录，摘要( excerpt的名词复数 )；节选（音乐，电影）片段 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
investigator
|
|
| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
economist
|
|
| n.经济学家，经济专家，节俭的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
crooks
|
|
| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
adept
|
|
| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
dodge
|
|
| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
evasion
|
|
| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
engulfed
|
|
| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |