Veronica, as I say, had a talking cunt, which was bad because its sole function seemed to be to talk one out of a fuck. Evelyn, on the other hand, had a laughing cunt. She lived upstairs too, only in another house. She was always trotting10 in at meal times to tell us a new joke. A comedienne of the first water, the only really funny woman I ever met in my life. Everything was a joke, fuck included. She could even make a stiff prick11 laugh, which is saying a good deal. They say a stiff prick has no conscience, but a stiff prick that laughs too is phenomenal. The only way I can describe it is to say that when she got hot and bothered, Evelyn, she put on a ventriloqual act with her cunt. You'd be ready to slip it in when suddenly the dummy12 between her legs would let out a guffaw13. At the same time it would reach out for you and give you a playful little tug14 and squeeze. It could sing too, this dummy of a cunt. In fact it behaved just like a trained seal.
Nothing is more difficult than to make love in a circus. Putting on the trained seal act all the time made her more inaccessible than if she had been trussed up with iron thongs15. She could break down the most "personal" hard-on in the world. Break it down with laughter. At the same time it wasn't quite as humiliating as one might be inclined to imagine. There was something sympathetic about this vaginal laughter. The whole world seemed to unroll like a pornographic film whose tragic16 theme is impotence. You could visualize17 yourself as a dog, or a weasel, or a white rabbit. Love was something on the side, a dish of caviar, say, or a wax heliotrope18. You could see the ventriloquist in you talking about caviar or heliotropes, but the real person was always a weasel or a white rabbit. Evelyn was always lying in the cabbage patch with her legs spread open offering a bright green leaf to the first-comer. But if you made a move to nibble19 it the cabbage patch would explode with laughter, a bright, dewy, vaginal laughter such as Jesus H. Christ and Immanuel Pussyfoot Kant never dreamed of, because if they had the world would not be what it is today and besides there would have been no Kant and no Christ Almighty20. The female seldom laughs, but when she does it's volcanic21. When the female laughs the male had better scoot to the cyclone22 cellar. Nothing will stand up under that vaginating chortle, not even ferroconcrete. The female, when her risibility23 is once aroused, can laugh down the hyena24 or the jackal or the wild-cat. Now and then one hears it at a lynching bee, for example. It means that the lid is off, that everything goes. It means that she will forage25 for herself- and watch out that you don't get your balls cut off! It means that if the pest is coming SHE is coming first, and with huge spiked26 thongs that will flay27 the living hide off you. It means that she will lay not only with Tom, Dick and Harry28, but with Cholera29, Meningitis, Leprosy: it means that she will lay herself down on the altar like a mare30 in rut and take on all comers, including the Holy Ghost. It means that what it took the poor male, with his logarithmic cunning, five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand years to build, she will pull it down in a night. She will pull it down and pee on it, and nobody will stop her once she starts laughing in earnest. And when I said about Veronica that her laugh would break down the most "personal" hard-on imaginable I meant it; she would break down the personalerection and hand you back an impersonal31 one that was like a red-hot ramrod. You might not get very far with Veronica herself, but with what she had to give you could travel far and no mistake about it. Once you came within earshot of her it was like you had gotten an overdose of Spanish fly. Nothing on earth could bring it down again, unless you put it under a sledge-hammer.
It was going on this way all the time, even though every word I say is a lie. It was a personal tour in the impersonal world, a man with a tiny trowel in his hand digging a tunnel through the earth to get to the other side. The idea was to tunnel through and find at last the Culebra Cut, the nec plus ultra, of the honeymoon32 of flesh. And of course there was no end to the digging. The best I might hope for was to get stuck in the dead centre of the earth, where the pressure was strongest and most even all around, and stay stuck there forever. That would give me the feeling of Ixion on the wheel, which is one sort of salvation33 and not entirely34 to be sneezed at. On the other hand I was a metaphysician of the instinctivist sort; it was impossible for me to stay stuck anywhere, even in the dead centre of the earth. It was most imperative35 to find and enjoy the metaphysical fuck, and for that I would be obliged to come out on to a wholly new tableland, a mesa of sweet alfalfa and polished monoliths, where the eagles and the vultures flew at random36.
Sometimes sitting in a park of an evening, especially a park littered with papers and bits of food, I would see one pass by, one that seemed to be going towards Tibet, and I would follow her with the round eye, hoping that suddenly she would begin to fly, for if she did that, if she would begin to fly, I knew I would be able to fly also, and that would mean an end to the digging and the wallowing. Sometimes, probably because of twilight37 or other disturbances38, it seemed as though she actually did fly on rounding a comer. That is, she would suddenly be lifted from the ground for the space of a few feet, like a plane too heavily loaded; but just that sudden involuntary lift, whether real or imaginary it didn't matter, gave me hope, gave me courage to keep the still round eye riveted39 on the spot.
There were megaphones inside which yelled "Go on, keep going, stick it out," and all that nonsense. But why? To what end? Whither? Whence? I would set the alarm dock in order to be up and about at a certain hour, but why up and about? Why get up at all? With that little trowel in my hand I was working like a galley40 slave and not the slightest hope of reward involved. Were I to continue straight on I would dig the deepest hole any man had ever dug. On the other hand, if I had truly wanted to get to the other side of the earth, wouldn't it have been much simpler to throw away the trowel and just board an aeroplane for China? But the body follows afterthe mind. The simplest thing for the body is not always easy for the mind. And when it gels particularly difficult and embarrassing is that moment when the two start going in opposite directions.
Labouring with the trowel was bliss41; it left the mind completely free and yet there was never the slightest danger of the two being separated. If the she-animal suddenly began groaning42 with pleasure, if the she-animal suddenly began to throw a pleasurable conniption fit, the jaws43 moving like old shoe laces, the chest wheezing44 and the ribs45 creaking, if the she-bugger suddenly started to fall apart on the floor, to the collapse46 of joy and overexasperation, just at the moment, not a second this side or that, the promised tableland would hove in sight like a ship coming up out of a fog and there would be nothing to do but plant the stars and stripes on it and claim it in the name of Uncle Sam and all that's holy. These misadventures happened so frequently that it was impossible not to believe in the reality of a realm which was called Fuck, because that was the only name which might be given to it, and yet it was more than fuck and by fucking one only began to approach it Everybody had at one time or another planted the flag in this territory, and yet nobody was able to lay claim to it permanently47. It disappeared overnight - sometimes in the twinkling of an eye. It was No Man's Land and it stank49 with the Utter of invisible deaths. If a truce50 were declared you met in this terrain51 and shook hands or swapped52 tobacco. But the truces53 never lasted very long. The only thing that seemed to have permanency was the "zone between" idea. Here the bullet flew and the corpses54 piled up:
then it would rain and finally there would be nothing left but a stench.
This is all a figurative way of speaking about what is unmentionable. What is unmentionable is pure fuck and pure cunt; it must be mentioned only in de luxeeditions, otherwise the world will fall apart What holds the world together, as I have learned from bitter experience, is sexual intercourse55. But fuck,the real thing, cunt,the real thing, seems to contain some unidentified element which is far more dangerous than nitroglycerine. To get an idea of the real thing you must consult a Sears-Roebuck catalogue endorsed56 by the Anglican Church. On page 23 you will find a picture of Priapus juggling57 a corkscrew on the end of his weeny; he is standing58 in the shadow of the Parthenon by mistake; he is naked except for a perforated jock-strap which was loaned for the occasion by the Holy Rollers of Oregon and Saskatchewan. Long distance is on the wire demanding to know if they should sell short or long. He says go fuck yourself and hangs up the receiver. In the background Rembrandt is studying the anatomy59 of our Lord Jesus Christ who, if you remember, was crucified by the Jews and then taken to Abysinnia to be pounded with quoits and other objects. The weather seems to be fair and warmer, as usual, except for a slight mist rising up out of the Ionian; this is the sweat of Neptune's balls which were castrated by the early monks60, or perhaps it was by the Manicheans in the time of the Pentecostal plague. Long strips of horse meat are hanging out to dry and the flies are everywhere, just as Homer describes it in ancient times. Hard by is a McCormick threshing machine, a reaper61 and binder62 with a thirty-six horse-power engine and no cutout. The harvest is in and the workers are counting their wages in the distant fields. This is the flush of dawn on the first day of sexual intercourse in the old Hellenistic world, now faithfully reproduced for us in colour thanks to the Zeiss Brothers and other patient zealots of industry. But this is not the way it looked to the men of Homer's time who were on the spot. Nobody knows how the god Priapus looked when he was reduced to the ignominy of balancing a corkscrew on the end of his weeny. Standing that way in the shadow of the Parthenon he undoubtedly63 fell a-dreaming of far-off cunt; he must have lost consciousness of the corkscrew and the threshing and reaping machine; he must have grown very silent within himself and finally he must have lost even the desire to dream. It is my idea, and of course I am willing to be corrected if I am wrong, that standing thus in the rising mist he suddenly heard the Angelus peal64 and lo and behold65 there appeared before his very eyes a gorgeous green marshland in which the Chocktaws were making merry with the Navajos: in the air above were the white condors66, their ruffs festooned with marigolds. He saw also a huge slate67 on which was written the body of Christ, the body of Absalom and the evil which is lust69. He saw the sponge soaked with frogs' blood, the eyes which Augustine had sewn into his skin, the vest which was not big enough to cover out iniquities70. He saw these things in the whilomst moment when the Navajos were making merry with the Chocktaws and he was so taken by surprise that suddenly a voice issued from between his legs, from the long thinking reed which he had lost in dreaming, and it was the most inspired, the most shrill71 and piercing, the most jubilant and ferocious72 cacchinating sort of voice that had ever wongled up from the depths. He began to sing through that long cock of his with such divine grace and elegance73 that the white condors came down out of the sky and shat huge purple eggs all over the green marshland. Our Lord Christ got up from his stone bed and, marked by the quoit though he was, he danced like a mountain goat. The fellaheen came out of Egypt in their chains, followed by the warlike Igorotes and the snail-eating men of Zanzibar.
This is how things stood on the first day of sexual intercourse in the old Hellenistic world. Since then things have changed a great deal. It is no longer polite to sing through your weeny, nor is it permitted even to condors to shit purple eggs all over the place. All this is scatological, eschatological and ecumenical. It is forbidden. Verboten.And so the Land of Puck becomes ever more receding74; it becomes mythological75. Therefore am I constrained76 to speak mythologically77. I speak with extreme unction, and with precious unguents too. I put away the clashing cymbals78, the tubas, the white marigolds, the oleanders and the rhododendrons. Up with the thorns and the manacles! Christ is dead and mangled79 with quoits. The fellaheen are bleaching80 in the sands of Egyptis, their wrists loosely shackled81. The vultures have eaten away every decomposing82 crumb83 of flesh. All is quiet, a million golden mice nibbling84 at the unseen cheese. The moon is up and the Nile ruminates85 on her riparian ravages86. The earth belches87 silently, the stars twitch88 and bleat89, the rivers slip their banks. It's like this ... There are cunts which laugh and cunts which talk: there are crazy, hysterical90 cunts shaped like ocarinas and there are planturous, seismographic cunts which register the rise and fall of sap: there are cannibalistic cunts which open wide like the jaws of the whale and swallow alive: there are also masochistic cunts which dose up like the oyster91 and have hard shells and perhaps a pearl or two inside: there are dithyrambic cunts which dance at the very approach of the penis and go wet all over in ecstasy92: there are the porcupine93 cunts which unleash94 their quills95 and wave little flags at Christmas time: there are telegraphic cunts which practise the Morse code and leave the mind full of dots and dashes; there are the political cunts which are saturated96 with ideology97 and which deny even the menopause; there are vegetative cunts which make no response unless you pull them up by the roots; there are the religious cunts which smell like Seventh Day Adventists and are full of beads98, worms, clamshells, sheep droppings and now and then dried breadcrumbs; there are the mammalian cunts which are lined with otter99 skin and hibernate100 during the long winter: there are cruising cunts fitted out like yachts, which are good for solitaries101 and epileptics; there are glacial cunts in which you can drop shooting stars without causing a flicker; there are miscellaneous cunts which defy category or description, which you stumble on once in a lifetime and which leave you seared and branded;
there are cunts made of pure joy which have neither name nor antecedent and these are the best of all, but whither have they flown?
And then there is the one cunt which is all, and this we shall call the super-cunt, since it is not of this land at all but of that bright country to which we were long ago invited to fly. Here the dew is ever sparkling and the tall reeds bend with the wind. It is here that great father of fornication dwells. Father Apis, the mantic bull who gored102 his way to heaven and dethroned the gelded deities103 of right and wrong. From Apis sprang the race of unicorns105, that ridiculous beast of ancient writ68 whose learned brow lengthened106 into a gleaming phallus, and from the unicorn104 by gradual stages was derived107 the late-city man of which Oswald Spengler speaks. And from the dead cock of this sad specimen108 arose the giant skyscraper109 with its express elevators and observation towers. We are the last decimal point of sexual calculation; the world turns like a rotten egg in its crate110 of straw. Now for the aluminium111 wings with which to fly to that far-off place, the bright country where Apis, the father of fornication, dwells. Everything goes forward like oiled docks; for each minute of the dial there are a million noiseless docks which tick off the rinds of time. We are travelling faster than the lightning calculator, faster than starlight, faster than the magician can think. Each second is a universe of time. And each universe of time is but a wink48 of sleep in the cosmogony of speed. When speed comes to its end we shall be there, punctual as always and blissfully undenominated. We shall shed our wings, our docks and our mantelpieces to lean on. We will rise up feathery and jubilant, like a column of blood, and there will be no memory to drag us down again. This time I call the realm of the super-cunt, for it defies speed, calculation or imagery. Nor has the penis itself a known size or weight. There is only the sustained fed of fuck, the fugitive112 in full flight, the nightmare smoking his quiet cigar. Little Nemo walks around with a seven day hard-on and a wonderful pair of blue balls bequeathed by Lady Bountiful. It is Sunday morning around the corner from Evergreen113 Cemetery114.
It is Sunday morning and I am lying blissfully dead to the world on my bed of ferro-concrete. Around the comer is the cemetery, which is to say - the world of sexual intercourse.My balls ache with the fucking that is going on, but it is all going on beneath my window, on the boulevard where Hymie keeps his copulating nest. I am thinking of one woman and the rest is blotto. I say I am thinking of her, but the truth is I am dying a stellar death. I am lying there like a sick star waiting for the light to go out. Years ago I lay on this same bed and I waited and waited to be born. Nothing happened. Except that my mother, in her Lutheran rage, threw a bucket of water over me. My mother, poor imbecile that she was, thought I was lazy. She didn't know that I had gotten caught in the stellar drift, that I was being pulverized115 to a black extinction116 out there on the farthest rim117 of the universe. She thought it was sheer laziness that kept me riveted to the bed. She threw the bucket of water over me: I squirmed and shivered a bit, but I continued to lie there on my ferro-concrete bed. I was immovable. I was a burned-out meteor adrift somewhere in the neighbourhood of Vega.
And now I'm on the same bed and the light that's in me refuses to be extinguished. The world of men and women are making merry in the cemetery grounds. They are having sexual intercourse. God bless them, and I am alone in the Land of Fuck. It seems to me that I hear the clanking of a great machine, the linotype bracelets118 passing through the wringer of sex. Hymie and his nymphomaniac of a wife are lying on the same level with me, only they are across the river. The river is called Death and it has a bitter taste. I have waded119 through it many times, up to the hips120, but somehow I have neither been petrified121 nor immortalized. I am still burning brightly inside, though outwardly dead as a planet. From this bed I have gotten up to dance, not once but hundreds, thousands of times. Each time I came away I had the conviction that I had danced the skeleton dance on a terrain vague.Perhaps I had wasted too much of my substance on suffering; perhaps I had the crazy idea that I would be the first metallurgical bloom of the human species; perhaps I was imbued122 with the notion that I was both a sub-gorilla and a super-god. On this bed of ferro-concrete I remember everything and everything is in rock crystal. There are never any animals, only thousands and thousands of human beings all talking at once, and for each word they utter I have an answer immediately, sometimes before the word is out of their mouths. There is plenty of killing123, but no blood. The murders arc perpetrated with cleanliness, and always in silence. But even if every one were killed there would still be conversation, and the conversation would be at once intricate and easy to follow. Because it is I who create it! I know it, and that is why it never drives me mad. I have conversations which may take place only twenty years hence, when I meet the right person, the one whom I shall create, let us say, when the proper time comes. All these talks take place in a vacant lot which is attached to my bed like a mattress124. Once I gave it a name, this terrain vague: Icalled it Ubiguchi, but somehow Ubiguchi never satisfied me, it was too intelligible125, too full of meaning. It would be better to keep it just "terrain vague", which is what I intend to do. People think that vacuity126 is nothingness, but it is not so. Vacuity is a discordant127 fulness, a crowded ghostly world in which the soul goes reconnoitering. As a boy I remember standing in the vacant lot as if I were a very lively soul standing naked in a pair of shoes. The body had been stolen from me because I had no particular need of it. I could exist with or without a body then. If I killed a little bird and roasted it over the fire and ate it, it was not because I was hungry but because I wanted to know about Timbuctoo or Tierra del Fuego. I had to stand in the vacant lot and eat dead birds in order to create a desire for that bright land which later I would inhabit alone and people with nostalgia128. I expected ultimate things of this place, but I was deplorably deceived. I went as far as one could go in a state of complete deadness, and then by a law, which must be the law of creation, I suppose, I suddenly flared129 up and began to live inexhaustibly, like a star whose light is unquenchable. Here began the real cannibalistic excursions which have meant so much to me; no more dead chippies picked from the bonfire, but live human meat, tender, succulent human flesh, secrets like fresh bloody130 livers, confidences like swollen131 tumors that have been kept on ice. I learned not to wait for my victim to die, but to eat into him while talking to me. Often when I walked away from an unfinished meal I discovered that it was nothing more than an old friend minus an arm or a leg. I sometimes left him standing there - a trunk full of stinking132 intestines133.
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1
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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overtly
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| ad.公开地 | |
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algebra
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| n.代数学 | |
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lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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heliotrope
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| n.天芥菜；淡紫色 | |
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nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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cyclone
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| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
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risibility
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| n.爱笑，幽默感 | |
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hyena
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| n.土狼，鬣狗 | |
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forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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flay
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| vt.剥皮；痛骂 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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47
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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48
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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49
stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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50
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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51
terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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52
swapped
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| 交换（工作）( swap的过去式和过去分词 )； 用…替换，把…换成，掉换（过来） | |
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53
truces
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| 休战( truce的名词复数 )； 停战（协定）； 停止争辩（的协议）； 中止 | |
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54
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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55
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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56
endorsed
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| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
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57
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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58
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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59
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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60
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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61
reaper
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| n.收割者，收割机 | |
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62
binder
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| n.包扎物，包扎工具；[法]临时契约；粘合剂；装订工 | |
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63
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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64
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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65
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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66
condors
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| n.神鹰( condor的名词复数 ) | |
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67
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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68
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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69
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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70
iniquities
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| n.邪恶( iniquity的名词复数 )；极不公正 | |
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71
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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72
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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73
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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74
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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75
mythological
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| adj.神话的 | |
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76
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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77
mythologically
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| 神话的； 虚构的 | |
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78
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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79
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
bleaching
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| 漂白法，漂白 | |
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81
shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
decomposing
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| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
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83
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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84
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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85
ruminates
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| v.沉思( ruminate的第三人称单数 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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86
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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87
belches
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| n.嗳气( belch的名词复数 )；喷吐；喷出物v.打嗝( belch的第三人称单数 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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88
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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89
bleat
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| v.咩咩叫，(讲)废话，哭诉；n.咩咩叫，废话，哭诉 | |
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90
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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91
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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92
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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93
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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94
unleash
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| vt.发泄，发出；解带子放开 | |
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95
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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96
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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97
ideology
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| n.意识形态，(政治或社会的)思想意识 | |
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98
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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99
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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100
hibernate
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| v.冬眠，蛰伏 | |
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101
solitaries
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| n.独居者，隐士( solitary的名词复数 ) | |
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102
gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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104
unicorn
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| n.(传说中的)独角兽 | |
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105
unicorns
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| n.（传说中身体似马的）独角兽( unicorn的名词复数 )；一角鲸；独角兽标记 | |
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106
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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108
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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109
skyscraper
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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110
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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111
aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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112
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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113
evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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114
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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115
pulverized
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| adj.[医]雾化的，粉末状的v.将…弄碎( pulverize的过去式和过去分词 )；将…弄成粉末或尘埃；摧毁；粉碎 | |
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116
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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117
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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118
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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119
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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121
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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122
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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123
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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124
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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125
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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126
vacuity
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| n.(想象力等)贫乏，无聊，空白 | |
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127
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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128
nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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129
Flared
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| 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 | |
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130
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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131
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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132
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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133
intestines
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| n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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