The hibernation9 of animals, the suspension of life practised by certain low forms of life, the marvellous vitality10 of the bedbug which lies in wait endlessly behind the wallpaper, the trance of the Yogi, the catalepsy of the pathologic individual, the mystic's union with the cosmos11, the immortality13 of cellular14 life, all these things the artist learns in order to awaken15 the world at the propitious16 moment. The artist belongs to the X root race of man; he is the spiritual microbe, as it were, which carries over from one root race to another. He is not crushed by misfortune, because he is not a part of the physical, racial scheme of things. His appearance is always synchronous17 with catastrophe18 and dissolution; he is the cyclical being which lives in the epicycle. The experience which he acquires is never used for personal ends; it serves the larger purpose to which he is geared. Nothing is lost on him, however trifling19. If he is interrupted for twenty-five years in the reading of a book he can go on from the page where he left off as though nothing had happened in between. Everything that happens in between, which is "life" to most people, is merely an interruption in his forward round. The eternality of his work, when he expresses himself, is merely the reflection of the automatism of life in which he is obliged to lie dormant20, a sleeper21 on the back of sleep, waiting for the signal which will announce the moment of birth. This is the big issue, and this was always dear to me, even when I denied it. The dissatisfaction which drives one on from one word to another, one creation to another, is simply a protest against the futility22 of postponement23. The more awake one becomes, an artistic24 microbe, the less desire one has to do anything. Fully25 awake, everything is just and there is no need to come out of the trance. Action, as expressed in creating a work of art, is a concession26 to the automatic principle of death. Drowning myself in the Gulf27 of Mexico I was able to partake of an active life which would permit the real self to hibernate28 a until I was ripe to be born. I understood it perfectly29, though I acted blindly and confusedly. I swam back to the stream of human activity until I got to the source of all action and there muscled in, calling myself personnel director of a telegraph company, and allowed the tide of humanity to wash over me like great white-capped breakers. All this active life, preceding the final act of desperation, led me from doubt to doubt, blinding me more and more to the real self which, like a continent choked with the evidences of a great and thriving civilization, had already sunk beneath the surface of the sea. The colossal ego was submerged, and what people observed moving frantically31 above the surface was the periscope32 of the soul searching for its target. Everything that came within range had to be destroyed, if I were ever to rise again and ride the waves. This monster which rose now and then to fix its target with deadly aim, which dove again and roved and plundered33 ceaselessly would, when the time came, rise for the last time to reveal itself as an ark, would gather unto itself a pair of each kind and at last, when the floods abated34, would settle down on the summit of a lofty mountain peak thence to open wide its doors and return to the world what had been preserved from the catastrophe.
If I shudder35 now and then, when I think of my active life, if I have nightmares, possibly it is because I think of all the men I robbed and murdered in my day sleep. I did everything which my nature bade me to do. Nature is eternally whispering in one's ear - "if you would survive you must kill!" Being human, you kill not like the animal but automatically, and the killing36 is disguised and its ramifications37 are endless, so that you kill without even thinking about it, you kill without need. The men who are the most honoured are the greatest killers38. They believe that they are serving their fellowmen, and they are sincere in believing so, but they are heartless murderers and at moments, when they come awake, they realize their crimes and perform frantic30, quixotic acts of goodness in order to expiate39 their guilt40. The goodness of man stinks41 more than the evil which is in him, for the goodness is not yet acknowledged, not an affirmation of the conscious self. Being pushed over the precipice42, it is easy at the last moment to surrender all one's possessions, to turn and extend a last embrace to all who are left behind. How are we to stop the blind rush? How are we to stop the automatic process, each one pushing the other over the precipice?
As I sat at my desk, over which I had put up a sign reading "Do not abandon all hope ye who enter here!" - as I sat there saying Yes, No, Yes, No, I realized, with a despair that was turning to white frenzy43, that I was a puppet in whose hands society had placed a gatling gun. If I performed a good deed it was no different, ultimately, than if I had performed a bad deed. I was like an equals sign through which the algebraic swarm44 of humanity was passing. I was a rather important, active equals sign, like a general in time of war, but no matter how competent I were to become I could never change into a plus or a minus sign. Nor could any one else, as far as I could determine. Our whole life was built up on this principle of equation. The integers had become symbols which were shuffled45 about in the interests of death. Pity, despair, passion, hope, courage - these were the temporal refractions caused by looking at equations from varying angles. To stop the endless juggling46 by turning one's back on it, or by facing it squarely and writing about it, would be no help either. In a hall of mirrors there is no way to turn your back on yourself. I will not do thisI will do some other thing IVery good. But can you do nothing at all? Can you stop thinking about not doing anything? Can you stop dead, and without thinking, radiate the truth which you know? That was the idea which lodged47 in the back of my head and which burned and burned, and perhaps when I was most expansive most radiant with energy, most sympathetic, most willing, helpful, sincere, good, it was this fixed48 idea which was shining through, and automatically I was saying - "why, don't mention it ... nothing at all, I assure you ... no, please don't thank me. it's nothing," etc. etc. From firing the gun so many hundreds of times a day perhaps I didn't even notice the detonations49 any more; perhaps I thought I was opening pigeon traps and filling the sky with milky50 white fowl51. Did you ever see a synthetic52 monster on the screen, a Frankenstein realized in flesh and blood? Can you imagine how he might be trained to pull a trigger and see pigeons flying at the same time? Frankenstein is not a myth: Frankenstein is a very real creation born of the personal experience of a sensitive human being. The monster is always more real when it does not assume the proportions of flesh and blood. The monster of the screen is nothing compared to the monster of the imagination; even the existent pathologic monsters who find their way into the police station are but feeble demonstrations53 of the monstrous55 reality which the pathologist lives with. But to be the monster and the pathologist at the same time - that is reserved for certain species of men who, disguised as artists, are supremely56 aware that sleep is an even greater danger than insomnia57. In order not to fall asleep, in order not to become victims of that insomnia which is called "living", they resort to the drug of putting words together endlessly. This is notan automatic process, they say, because there is always present the illusion that they can stop it at will. But they cannot stop; they have only succeeded in creating an illusion, which is perhaps a feeble something, but it is far from being wide awake and neither active nor inactive. Iwanted to be wide awake without talking or writing about it, in order to accept life absolutely.I mentioned the archaic58 men in the remote places of the world with who, I was communicating frequently. Why did I think these "savages59" more capable of understanding me than the men and women who surrounded me? Was I crazy to believe such a thing? I don't think so in the least. These "savages" are the degenerate62 remnants of earlier races of man who, I believe, must have had a greater hold on reality. The immortality of the race is constantly before oar63 eyes in these specimens64 of the past who linger on in withered65 splendour. Whether the human race is immortal12 or not is not my concern, but the vitality of the race does mean something to me, and that it should be active or dormant means even more. As the vitality of the new race banks down the vitality of the old races manifests itself to the waking mind with greater and greater significance. The vitality of the old races lingers on even in death, but the vitality of the new race which is about to die seems already non-existent. If a man were taking a swarming66 hive of bees to the river to drown them... That was the image I carried about in me. If only I were the man, and not the bee! In some vague, inexplicable67 way I knew that I wasthe man, that I would not be drowned in the hive, like the others. Always, when we came forwards in a group I was signalled to stand apart; from birth I was favoured that way, and, no matter what tribulations68 I went through, I knew they were not fatal or lasting69. Also, another strange thing took place in me whenever I was called to stand forth70. I knew that I was superior to the man who was summoning me! The tremendous humility71 which I practised was not hypocritical but a condition provoked by the realization72 of the fateful character of the situation. The intelligence which I possessed73, even as a stripling, frightened me; it was the intelligence of a "savage60", which is always superior to that of civilized74 men in that it is more adequate to the exigencies75 of circumstance. It is a lifeintelligence, even though life has seemingly passed them by. I felt almost as if I had been shot forward into a round of existence which for the rest of mankind had not yet attained76 its full rhythm. I was obliged to mark time if I were to remain with them and not be shunted off to another sphere of existence. On the other hand, I was in many ways lower than the human beings about me. It was as though I had come out of the fires of hell not entirely77 purged78. I had still a tail and a pair of horns, and when my passions were aroused I breathed a sulphurous poison which was annihilating79. I was always called a "lucky devil". The good that happened to me was called "luck", and the evil was always regarded as a result of my shortcomings. Rather, as the fruit of my blindness. Rarely did any one ever spot the evil in me! I was as adroit80, in this respect, as the devil himself. But that I was frequently blind, everybody could see that. And at such times I was left alone, shunned81, like the devil himself. Then I left the world, returned to the fires of hell - voluntarily. These comings and goings are as real to me, more real, in fact, than anything that happened in between. The friends who think they know me know nothing about me for the reason that the real me changed hands countless82 times. Neither the men who thanked me, nor the men who cursed me, knew with whom they were dealing83. Nobody ever got on to a solid footing with me, because I was constantly liquidating84 my personality. I was keeping what is called the "personality" in abeyance85 for the moment when, leaving it to coagulate, it would adopt a proper human rhythm. I was hiding my face until the moment when I would find myself in step with the world. All this was, of course, a mistake. Even the role of artist is worth adopting, while marking time. Action is important, even if it entails86 futile87 activity. One should not say Yes, No, Yes, No, even seated in the highest place. One should not be drowned in the human tidal wave, even for the sake of becoming a Master. One must beat with his own rhythm - at any price. I accumulated thousands of years of experience in a few short years, but the experience was wasted because I had no need of it. I had already been crucified and marked by the cross; I had been born free of the need to suffer - and yet I knew no other way to struggle forward than to repeat the drama. All my intelligence was against it. Suffering is futile, my intelligence told me over and over, but I went on suffering voluntarily.Suffering has never taught me a thing; for others it may still be necessary, but for me it is nothing more than an algebraic demonstration54 of spiritual inadaptability. The whole drama which the man of today is acting88 out through suffering does not exist for me: it never did, actually. All my Calvaries were rosy89 crucifixions, pseudo-tragedies to keep the fires of hell burning brightly for the real sinners who are in danger of being forgotten.
Another thing ... the mystery which enveloped90 my behaviour grew deeper the nearer I came to the circle of uterine relatives. The mother from whose loins I sprang was a complete stranger to me. To begin with, after giving birth to me she gave birth to my sister, whom I usually refer to as my brother. My sister was a sort of harmless monster, an angel who had been given the body of an idiot. It gave me a strange feeling, as a boy, to be growing up and developing side by side with this being who was doomed91 to remain all her life a mental dwarf92. It was impossible to be a brother to her because it was impossible to regard this atavistic hulk of a body as a "sister".
She would have functioned perfectly, I imagine, among the Australian primitives94. She might even have been raised to power and eminence95 among them, for, as I said, she was the essence of goodness, she knew no evil. But so far as living the civilized life goes she was helpless; she not only had no desire to kill but she had no desire to thrive at the expense of others. She was incapacitated for work, because even if they had been able to train her to make caps for high explosives, for example, she might absent-mindedly throw her wages in the river on the way home or she might give them to a beggar in the street. Often in my presence she was whipped like a dog for having performed some beautiful act of grace in her absent-mindedness, as they called it. Nothing was worse, I learned as a child, than to do a good deed without reason. I had received the same punishment as my sister, in the beginning, because I too had a habit of giving things away, especially new things which had just been given me. I had even received a bearing once, at the age of five, for having advised my mother to cut a wart96 off her finger. She had asked me what to do about it one day and, with my limited knowledge of medicine, I told her to cut it off with scissors, which she did, like an idiot. A few days later she got blood poisoning and then she got hold of me and she said - "you told me to cut it off, didn't you?" and she gave me a sound thrashing. From that day on I knew that I was born in the wrong household. From that day on I learned like lightning. Talk about adaptation! By the time I was ten I had lived out the whole theory of evolution. And there I was, evolving through all the phases of animal life and yet chained to this creature called my "sister" who was evidently a primitive93 being and who would never, even at the age of ninety, arrive at a comprehension of the alphabet Instead of growing up like a stalwart tree I began to lean to one side, in complete defiance97 of the law of gravity. Instead of shooting out limbs and leaves I grew windows and turrets98. The whole being, as it grew, was turning into stone, and the higher I shot up the more I defied the law of gravity. I was a phenomenon in the midst of the landscape, but one which attracted people and elicited99 praise. If the mother who bore us had only made another effort perhaps a marvellous white buffalo100 might have been born and the three of us might have been permanently101 installed in a museum and protected for life. The conversations which took place between the leaning tower of Pisa, the whipping post, the snorting machine and the pterodactyl in human flesh were, to say the least, a bit queer. Anything might be the subject of conversation - a bread crumb102 which the "sister" had overlooked in brushing the tablecloth103 or Joseph's coat of many colours which, in the old man's tailoring brain, might have been either double-breasted or cutaway or frock. If I came from the ice pond, where I had been skating all afternoon, the important thing was not the ozone104 which I had breathed free of charge, nor the geometric convolutions which were strengthening my muscles, but the little spot of rust105 under the clamps which, if not rubbed off immediately, might deteriorate106 the whole skate and bring about the dissolution of some pragmatic value which was incomprehensible to my prodigal107 turn of thought. This little rust spot, to take a trifling example, might entrain the most hallucinating results. Perhaps the "sister", in searching for the kerosene108 can, might overturn the jar of prunes109 which were being stewed110 and thus endanger all our lives by robbing us of the required calories in the morrow's meal. A severe beating would have to be given, not in anger, because that would disturb the digestive apparatus111, but silently and efficiently112, as a chemist would beat up the white of an egg in preparation for a minor113 analysis. But the "sister", not understanding the prophylactic114 nature of the punishment, would give vent115 to the most bloodcurdling screams and this would so affect the old man that he would .go out for a walk and return two or three hours later blind drunk and, what was worse, scratching a little paint off the rolling doors in his blind staggers. The little piece of paint that had been chipped off would bring on a battle royal which was very bad for my dream life, because in my dream life I frequently changed places with my sister, accepting the tortures inflicted116 upon her and nourishing them with my supersensitive brain. It was in these dreams, always accompanied by the sound of glass breaking, of shrieks117, curses, groans118 and sobs119, that I gathered an unformulated knowledge of the ancient mysteries, of the rites120 of initiation121, of the transmigration of souls and so on. It might begin with a scene from real life - the sister standing61 by the blackboard in the kitchen, the mother towering over her with a ruler, saying two and two makes how much? and the sister screaming five. Bang! no, seven.Bang! no, thirteen, eighteen as twenty!I would be sitting at the table, doing my lessons, just in real life during these scenes, when by a slight twist or squirm, perhaps as I saw the ruler come down on the sister's face, suddenly I would be in another realm where glass was unknown, as it was unknown to the Kickapoos or the Lenni-Lenapi. The faces of those about me were familiar - they were my uterine relatives who, for some mysterious reason, failed to recognize me in this new ambiance. They were garbed122 in black and the colour of their skin was ash grey, like that of the Tibetan devils. They were all fitted out with knives and other instruments of torture; they belonged to the caste of sacrificial butchers. I seemed to have absolute liberty and the authority of a god, and yet by some capricious turn of events the end would be that I'd be lying on the sacrificial block and one of my charming uterine relatives would be bending over me with a gleaming knife to cut out my heart. In sweat and terror I would begin to recite "my lessons" in a high, screaming voice, faster and faster, as I felt the knife searching for my heart. Two and two is four, five and five is ten, earth, air, fire, water, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, Meocene, Pleocene, Eocene, the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost, Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, red, blue, yellow, the sorrel, the persimmon, the pawpaw, the catalpa .. .faster and faster... Odin, Wotan, Parsifal, King Alfred, Frederick the Great, the Hanseatic League, the Battle of Hastings, Thermopylae, 1492,1786, 18l2, Admiral Farragut, Pickett's charge. The Light Brigade, we are gathered here today, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not, one and indivisible, no, 16, no, 27, help! murder! police! - and yelling louder and louder and going faster and faster I go completely off my nut and there is no more pain, no more terror, even though they are piercing me everywhere with knives. Suddenly I am absolutely calm and the body which is lying on the block, which they are still gouging123 with glee and ecstasy124, feels nothing because I, the owner of it, have escaped. I have become a tower of stone which leans over the scene and watches with scientific interest. I have only to succumb125 to the law of gravity and I will fall on them and obliterate126 them. But I do not succumb to the law of gravity because I am too fascinated by the horror of it all. I am so fascinated, in fact, that I grow more and more windows. And as the light penetrates127 the stone interior of my being I can feel that my roots, which are in the earth, are alive and that I shall one day be able to remove myself at will from this trance in which I am fixed.
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1
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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9
hibernation
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| n.冬眠 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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cellular
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| adj.移动的；细胞的，由细胞组成的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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synchronous
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| adj.同步的 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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postponement
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| n.推迟 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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hibernate
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| v.冬眠，蛰伏 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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periscope
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| n. 潜望镜 | |
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plundered
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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ramifications
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| n.结果，后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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killers
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| 凶手( killer的名词复数 )； 消灭…者； 致命物； 极难的事 | |
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expiate
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| v.抵补，赎罪 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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45
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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46
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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47
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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48
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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49
detonations
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| n.爆炸 （声）( detonation的名词复数 ) | |
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50
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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51
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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52
synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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53
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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54
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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55
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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56
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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57
insomnia
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| n.失眠，失眠症 | |
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58
archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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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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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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63
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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64
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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66
swarming
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| 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 | |
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67
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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68
tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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69
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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71
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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72
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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73
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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75
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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76
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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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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purged
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| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
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annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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81
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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84
liquidating
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| v.清算( liquidate的现在分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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85
abeyance
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| n.搁置，缓办，中止，产权未定 | |
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entails
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| 使…成为必要( entail的第三人称单数 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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88
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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primitives
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| 原始人（primitive的复数形式） | |
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95
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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98
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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99
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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101
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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102
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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103
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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104
ozone
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| n.臭氧，新鲜空气 | |
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105
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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106
deteriorate
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| v.变坏；恶化；退化 | |
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107
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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108
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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109
prunes
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| n.西梅脯，西梅干( prune的名词复数 )v.修剪（树木等）( prune的第三人称单数 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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110
stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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111
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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112
efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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113
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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114
prophylactic
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| adj.预防疾病的；n.预防疾病 | |
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115
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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116
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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118
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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119
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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120
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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121
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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122
garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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124
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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125
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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126
obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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127
penetrates
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| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
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