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用作能源加工、转换的能源可视作原材料投入。 ()
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统计分析具有数据性、目的性、时效性的特点。 ()
In broad/narrow, correct/wrong, boss/ employee, and left/right, there are _________ kinds
The Game of the Name
Here comes John Smith walking toward me. Even though he is but a passing acquaintance, the American greeting ritual demands that I utter a few words to reassure him of my good will. But what form. of ad- dress should I use？ John？ Smith？ Dr. Smith？ A decision such as this is usually made unconsciously.
As native speakers in the American speech community, we have grown up learning the rules of address at the same time that we were acquiring the grammatical rules of American - English. At first thought, it might seem a trivial pursuit to examine the ways in which we address one another. But forms of address re- veal many assumptions we make about memebers of our speech community.
Our initial decision about the appropriate address form. is based on relative ages. If the person being ad- dressed is a child, then almost all the rules that we have unconsciously assimilated can safely be ignored, and we use the simple formula First Name. The child, in turn, addresses an adult by using the formula Tihe plus Last Name.
But defining a "child" is not always easy. I address my son's roommate at college by FN, even though he is an adult under the law. I, too, have the relative age of a child to a 75 - year - old acquaintance who calls me Pete. Let us assume that John Smith' is not a child who can be addressed by FN but is either my contemporary or my elder. The next important determiner for the form. of address will then be the speech situation.
If the situation is a formal one, then I must disregard all other rules and use social Identity plus Last Name. John Smith will always be addressed as Dr. Smith (or sometimes simply as Doctor, with Last Name understood) in the medical setting of office or hospital. (I am allowed to call him if my status is at least as high as his or if we are friends outside of our social roles, but the rest of my utterance must remain respectful.)
We are also obliged to address certain other people by their social identity in formal situation: public officials (Congressman: Your Honor), educators (Professor or Doctor), leaders of meetings (Mr. Chairman ), Roman Catholic priests (Father Daily) and nuns (Sister Anna), and so forth. By the way, note the sexist distinction in the formulas for priests and nuns. The formula for a priest is Father plus Last Name, but for a nun it is Sister plus Religious Name (usually an FN).
Most conversations, however, are not carried on in formal speech situations, and so the basic decision is when to use FN to TLN. A social acquaintance or newly hired colleague of approximately the same age and rank is usually introduced on an FN basis. "Pete, I'd like you to meet Harvy. "Now a problem arises if both age and rank of cone of the parties are higher: "Pete, I'd like you to meet Attorney Brown."
Attorney Brown may, of course, at any time signal me that he is willing to suspend the rules of address and allow an FN basis. Such a suspension is his privilege to bestow, and it is usually handled humorously, with a remark like, “I answer quicker to Bruce.”
Complications arise when relative age and relative rank are not both the same. A young doctor who joins a hospital finds it difficult to address a much older doctor. They are equal in rank (and therefore FN should be used) but the great disparity in ages calls for TLN. In such cases, the young doctor can use the No - Name (NN) formula, phrasing his utterances adroitly to avoid using any term of address at all.
English is quite exceptional among the world's languages in this respect. Most European languages oblige the speaker to choose between the familiar and formal second person singular (as in the French tu and vous), as English once did when “thou” was in use.
This is the basic American system, but the rules vary according to speech situations, subtle friendship or kin relationships between the speakers, regions of
Feels like Spring
I stop at the corner drugstore for a breakfast of doughnuts and coffee, and then I race to the subway station and gallop down the steps to catch my usual train. I hold on to the strap and make believe I' m reading my newspaper, but I keep glancing at the people crowded in around me. I listen to them talk about their troubles and their friends, and I wish I had someone to talk to, someone to break the monotony, of the long sub- way ride.
As we approach the 175th Street station, I begin to get tense again. She usually gets into the train at that station. She slips in gracefully, not pushing or shoving like the rest, and she squeezes into a little space, clinging to the people and holding on to an office envelop that probably contains her lunch. She never carries a newspaper or a book; I guess there isn't much sense in trying to read when you're smashed in like that.
There's a fresh outdoor look about her and I figure she must live in New Jersey. The Jersey crowd gets in at that stop. She has a sweet face with that scrubbed look that doesn't need powder or rouge. She never wears make - up except for lipstick. And her wavy hair is natural, just a nice light brown. And all she does is hold on to the pole and think her own thoughts, her eyes clear- blue and warm.
I always like to watch her, but I have to be careful. I'm afraid she'd get angry and move away if she catches me at it, and then I won’t have anyone, because she' s my only real friend, even if she doesn't know it. I' m all alone in New York City and I guess I' m kind of shy and don't make friends easily. The fellows in the bank are all right but they have their own lives to lead, and besides, I can't ask anyone to come up to a furnished room; so they go their way and I go mine.
The city is getting me. It's too big and noisy--too many people for a fellow who's all by himself. I can't seem to get used to it. I'm used to the quiet of a small New Hampshire farm but there isn't any future on a New Hampshire farm any more; so after I was discharged from the Navy, I got it. I suppose it's a good break but I' m kind of lonesome.
As I ride along, awaying to the motion of the car, I like to imagine that I' m friends with her. Sometimes I'm even tempted to smile at her, and say something like “Nice morning, isn't it.” But I' m scared. She might think I' m one of those wise guys and she'd freeze up and look right through me as if I didn't exist, and then the next morning she wouldn't be there any more and I' d have no one to think about. I keep dreaming that maybe some day I'll get to know her. You know, in a casual way. Like maybe she' d be coming through the door and someone pushes her and she brushes against me and she'd say quickly, "Oh, I beg your pardon, "and I'd lift my hat politely and answer, "That' s perfectly all right, "and I'd smile to show her I meant it, and then she' d smile back at me and say, "Nice day, isn't it？" and I'd say, "Feels like spring. "And we wouldn't say anything more, but when she' d be ready to get off at 34th Street, she' d wave her fingers a little at me and say, "Good - bye", and I' d tip my hat again.
The next morning when she'd come in, she'd see me and say" Hello, or maybe, "Good morning," and I'd answer and add something to show her I really knew a little about spring. No wise cracks because I wouldn't want her to think that I was one of those smooth - talking guys who pick up girls in the subway.
The train is slowing down and the people are bracing themselves automatically for the stop. It's the 175th Street station. There's a big crowd waiting to get in. I look out anxiously for her but I don' t see her anywhere and my heart sinks, and just then I catch a glimpse of her, way over at the other side. She's wearing a new hat with little flowers on it.
The door opens and the people start pushing in. She'd caught in the rush and t
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