one短篇小说
1. 我想找一些小故事等等 最近尝试了一个app叫one 总体还可以 就是里面瞎说八道的科幻短篇太多了
2. 短篇寓言故事
A wolf had been badly wounded by dogs. He lay sick and maimed in his lair. He felt very hungry and thirsty. When a sheep passed by, he asked him to fetch some water from the stream. "If you bring me the water," he said, "I will find means to get some food." "Yes," said the sheep, "if I bring you the water, you would undoubtedly make me your food." 狼和羊 ●狼被狗所咬，伤势很严重，痛苦地躺在巢穴里，不能外出觅食。 ●他感到又饿又渴，这时，他看见一只羊，便请求他到附近的小河里为他取一点水来。 ●“你给我一点水解渴”，他说，“我就能自己去寻找食物了。” ●“是呀”，羊回答说，“如果我给你送水喝，那么我就会成为你的食物。” 寓意: 谎言是经不起推敲的，它很容易被人们识破。 Nails
Has a bad temper of the boy, his father gave him a bag of nails. And told him that whenever he lost his temper when a nail on the nail in the backyard on the fence. The first day, the boy has nailed 37 nails. Slowly, under the nail every day to rece the quantity of nails, he found that control of their temper than those under the nail nails easy. Thus, there is one day, the boy never lost patience, temper chaos. His father told him the matter. The father said, and now whenever he can begin to control their own temper when a nail on the pull-out. One day later, the last boy's father told him, he finally put all the nails to pull out come.
His father shook his hand, came to the backyard, said: "You're doing a good job and my child, but look at the fence on the hole. These fences will never be able to restore to before it. You angry when Say these words like nails, like a scar left. If you take a knife and stabbed someone else knife, no matter how many times do you say I am
raptao 2009-3-21 15:25:23
翻译：
钉子
有一个坏脾气的男孩，他父亲给了他一袋钉子。并且告诉他，每当他发脾气的时候就钉一个钉子在后院的围栏上。第一天，这个男孩钉下了37根钉子。慢慢地，每天钉下的钉子数量减少了，他发现控制自己的脾气要比钉下那些钉子容易。于是，有一天，这个男孩再也不会失去耐性，乱发脾气。他告诉父亲这件事情。父亲又说，现在开始每当他能控制自己脾气的时候，就拔出一根钉子。一天天过去了，最后男孩告诉他的父亲，他终于把所有钉子给拔出来了。
父亲握着他的手，来到后院说：“你做得很好，我的好孩子，但是看看那些围栏上的洞。这些围栏将永远不能恢复到从前的样子。你生气的时候说的话就像这些钉子一样留下疤痕。如果你拿刀子捅别人一刀，不管你说了多少次对不起，那个伤口将永远存在。话语的伤痛就像真实的伤痛一样令人无法承受。”
人与人之间常常因为一些无法释怀的僵持，而造成永远的伤害。如果我们都能从自己做起，开始宽容地看待他人，相信你一定能收到许多意想不到的结果。为别人开启一扇窗，也就是让自己看到更完整的天空。
3. 世界著名短篇小说、一定要短，最好有侧重描写人的心理的。特急！！！！
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一块牛排
杰克·伦敦
这是最后一小块面包了.汤姆金用它蘸完了最后一点面酱,把盘子抹得干干净净了的,放进口中若有所思地细嚼慢咽着.从桌边站起身的时候,他明显地感觉到饥饿并未消除.吃上这顿饭的,只有他一个人.两个孩子在隔壁房间里被早早地送上了床,因为拿不出晚饭给他们吃.妻子也没有任何东西可吃.她一声不响地坐在那儿,关切地望着丈夫.这是个出身于劳动人民阶层的女人.身体单薄瘦弱,在她的脸上,还残存着年轻时美貌的痕迹.她用最后的两个便士买了面包,所以只好从邻居家借了点面粉给丈夫做面酱.
汤姆金在窗旁坐下,那把东倒西歪的破椅子吱吱响着.他机械地拿起烟斗,放进嘴里，然后一只手伸进口袋里,却没有找到烟丝.他明明知道口袋是空的,烟丝已没有了,却总记不住.他生气地把烟斗放在一旁,动作缓慢,差不多有些笨拙,庞大的身体,笨重的肌肉使他有点萎靡不振.他是个身强力壮的家伙,长相也应当说是很有吸引力的.不过他的衣服又破有旧,脚上的鞋子因为穿得太久,鞋底都快要磨穿了.身上的衬衫是两个先令一件的便宜货,领口已经烂了,油污也无法洗掉.
只要看一眼汤姆金的脸,你就准能猜到他是干什么的.这是一张典型的拳击手的脸,上面有着多年格斗于拳击场中留下的创伤和岁月本身的痕迹.尽管这张脸刮得干干净净的,它还是呈现出一副咄咄逼人的容貌.严重变形的嘴巴,仿佛是脸上裂开的一道伤口.下骸粗大,前突.浓眉下的眼睛,深深地陷在沉重的眼皮之中,目光呆滞,号无表情.在汤姆金身上你能看到一种动物的东西,尤其是他的两只眼睛,像是没睡醒的狮子的眼睛,又像是准备一跃而起的野兽的眼睛.他的头发理得很短,前额向后倾,丑陋的脑袋上看得清每一个疙瘩.鼻子由于无数次的打击不断地改变着形状,有两次打断了鼻梁.两只耳朵,常常弄伤,永远肿着，比正常人的耳朵大出一倍.刚刮过的脸呈现出青黑色,说明他的胡子,毛发很重.
通常,如果在黑暗的林荫道或者荒郊野外,人们突然看见汤姆金,一定会感到害怕的.不过汤姆金却不是个歹徒,他从来没干过违法的勾当.如果将拳击场上的格斗除外的话,他从来没伤过任何人.没有人看到过他为了什么事情与人争吵.汤姆金是个职业拳击手,他拳击时那股蛮劲儿只有在他履行职责时才显露出来.在赛场外,他很恬静,而且待人随和.他年轻的时候,花钱如流水一般,慷慨大方到不顾惜自己的地步.他从不记人家的仇,因此树敌很少.拳击对他来说是谋生手段.在拳击场中,他把对手打伤,击倒或者打垮,但是并无恶意.在赛场上理当如此.观众花钱来看比赛，就是为了看到一个拳击手怎样打败另一个拳击手.获胜者可以得一大笔钱.二十年前汤姆金曾经与沃尔木卢高杰有一场交锋.金知道高杰在纽卡斯尔的一次比赛中下巴受了重伤,足足养了四个月才得以恢复.他专门找机会攻击高杰的下巴,终于在第九个回合中得手取胜.这并非一呢汤姆金对高杰有刻骨仇恨,而是因为只有攻其要害才能将对手打败,从而获取比赛的奖金.高杰也没有因此而怀恨于金.他们都懂得并遵守游戏规则,人人都力求获胜.
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4. 寻找你认为最优秀的短篇小说~
THE GIFT OF THE MAGI
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
5. 关于一篇短篇科幻小说
《one day》夏茄的 男主是每天半夜12点准时失忆
6. 求欧亨利的英文短篇小说，越全越好
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young." The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling-- something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its colour within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade. "Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value-- the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice--what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
http://www.readbookonline.net/stories/Henry/108/ 欧亨利的全在里面了，只要你能找到题目就行，给分吧，楼主
7. 世界著名短篇小说
THE GIFT OF THE
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
8. 爱伦坡短篇小说集
《梅岑格施泰因》 Metzengerstein：孤僻暴戾的贵族宠爱壁毯中走下的红色魔马，纵容其生吃人肉的故事。
《德洛梅勒特公爵》 The Duc De L'Omelette：已经死去的贵族与魔王赌命还阳的故事。
《瘟疫王》 King Pest：黑死病隔离区等死的人们在进行最后的狂欢。
《厄舍府的倒塌》 The Fall of the House of Usher：被活埋的病女破土而出的复仇故事。
《丽姬娅 Ligeia》：亡妻占据新娘的肉体重生。
《莫雷娜》 Morella：亡妻占据女儿的肉体重生。
《贝蕾妮丝 》Berenice：活泼的表妹婚后变成黄脸婆，男人拔下她两排仍然洁白的整齐牙齿的故事。
《埃莱奥诺拉》 Eleonora：早恋的表妹死后，男人背井离乡弃誓另娶，表妹托梦祝福。
《幽会》 The Assignation：辞藻华丽内容空洞的殉情故事。
《钟楼魔影 》The Devil in the Belfry：小镇的钟故障，一切秩序因此陷入混乱。
《奇怪天使》 The Angel of the Odd：酗酒男在自宅与自称天使的妖怪辩论并遭其戏弄殴打的故事。
《被用光的人》 The Man That Was Used Up：殖民地侵略者大将军战绩累累，在战场上失去的四肢，眼睛，头发，牙齿。全都换成了人造替代品。
《椭圆形画像 》The Oval Portrait：一位画家为美丽的未婚妻创作肖像，长期在阁楼上当模特严重磨损了她的健康，终于她在肖像完成之际猝然香消玉殒。
《红死病的假面具》 The Masque of the Red Death：贵族们为躲避蔓延中的黑死病，在栖身的城堡中肆意狂欢。而戴着红死魔的假面的红死魔渗入城堡的舞会，开始收割四散逃窜的亡灵。
《一桶蒙特亚白葡萄酒》 The Cask of Amontillado：筵席上男人将喝醉酒的死对头哄骗至地窖并砌墙封存的故事。
《泄密的心》 The Tell-tale Heart：男人因反感老头的眼睛（ 类似《圆脸男人》）而潜入对方卧室将其杀害，埋藏尸体的地板下传来心跳的幻听，迫使男人在警察面前招供出尸体的位置。（类似 地穴传说S02E08）
《反常之魔》 The Imp of the Perverse：男人为遗产用毒蜡烛杀害亲长，因家族遗传中的反常失控基因，而走街串巷高声呼喊自己的罪行。（类似 地穴传说S02E08）
《威廉·威尔逊》 William Wilson：学生干掉和自己同名同貌同日生的假想敌，随即为失去竞争对手感到失落的故事。
《黑猫》 The Black Cat：男人虐猫后的心路历程。
《跳蛙》 Hop-Frog：侏儒设计杀害领主为爱人报仇的童话故事。
《你就是凶手》 Thou Art the Man
《被窃之信 》The Purloined Letter
《玛丽·罗杰疑案 》The Mystery of Marie Roget
《莫格街谋杀案 》The Murders in the Rue Morgue
《金甲虫》 The Gold-Bug
《塔尔博士和费瑟尔教授的疗法》The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether：精神病人杀死主治医生，冒充管理人员统治医院，并戏弄前来交流学术的访客的故事。（类似地穴传说S03E05）
《长方形箱子》The Oblong Box：年轻画家携妻子、家人以及长方形箱子登上一艘去往纽约的邮船，同船偶遇大学时代的挚友。这位好奇的朋友对画家的箱中物展开了合乎情理的猜测，当有机会向画家暗示发现心得时，却把可怜的画家笑抽过去。邮船在一场突如其来的风暴中沉没，画家放弃逃生机会，与遗忘在船上的箱子一同葬身大海。箱中所藏何物？谜底将在一个月后船长的回忆中揭晓。
《生意人 》The Business Man
《欺骗是一门精密的科学》 Diddling
《千万别和魔鬼赌你的脑袋》 Never Bet the Devil Your Head
《为什么那小个子法国佬的手悬在吊腕带里》 Why the Little Frenchman Wears His Hand in a Sling：自恋的爱尔兰男爵和法国佬争相追求一个漂亮的寡妇，并始终坚持相信寡妇爱他的闹剧。
《眼镜 》The Spectacles：近视男误将时髦的老姑妈错看作美女，因此遭对方戏弄的故事。
《绝境》 A Predicament：女人将头从教堂钟楼的墙洞里探出欣赏美景，结果脖子被落下的指针卡住，一点点锯断的悲惨故事。
《捧为名流》 Lionizing 一个不学无术的傻子靠鼻子而成为社交名流的荒谬故事。
《甭甭》 Bon-Bon
《人群中的人》 The Man of the Crowd：一个无聊的人每天跟踪另一个无聊的人，然后感叹对方生活很无聊的故事。
《森格姆·鲍勃先生的文学生涯》 The Literary Life of Thingum Bob,Esq.
《失去呼吸 》Loss of Breath
《用X代替O的时候》 X-ing a Paragrab
《四不象》 Four Beasts in One - The Homo-Cameleopard
《故弄玄虚 》Mystification
《汉斯·普法尔历险记》（长篇）The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall
《阿·戈·皮姆的故事》（长篇） The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket
《罗德曼日记》（长篇未完） The Journal of Julius Rodman (unfinished serialized novel.)
9. 欧亨利短篇小说选集
《欧·亨利短篇小说选集》是2008年世界图书出版公司出版的图书，作者是欧·亨利。本书全部是欧·亨利的精彩短篇小说。
出版社: 世界图书出版公司; 第1版 (2008年3月1日)
外文书名: The Selected short stories of O Henry
丛书名: 上海世图?名著典藏
平装: 329页
正文语种: 英语
开本: 32
ISBN: 9787506263887
条形码: 9787506263887
尺寸: 18.6 x 12.8 x 1.6 cm
重量: 281 g
作者简介编辑
作者：(美国)欧·亨利(Henry.O.)
欧·亨利原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)，是美国最著名的短篇小说家之一，曾被评论界誉为曼哈顿桂冠散文作家和美国现代短篇小说之父。他出身于美国北卡罗来纳州格林斯波罗镇一个医师家庭。
他的一生富于传奇性，当过药房学徒、牧牛人、会计员、土地局办事员、新闻记者、银行出纳员。当银行出纳员时，因银行短缺了一笔现金，为避免审讯，离家流亡中美的洪都拉斯。后因回家探视病危的妻子被捕入狱，并在监狱医务室任药剂师。他创作第一部作品的起因是为了给女儿买圣诞礼物，但基于犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法国 世界图书出版公司; 第1版 (2008年3月1日)
外文书名: The Selected short stories of O Henry
丛书名: 上海世图?名著典藏
平装: 329页
正文语种: 英语
开本: 32
ISBN: 9787506263887
条形码: 9787506263887
尺寸: 18.6 x 12.8 x 1.6 cm
重量: 281 g
作者简介编辑
作者：(美国)欧·亨利(Henry.O.)
欧·亨利原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)，是美国最著名的短篇小说家之一，曾被评论界誉为曼哈顿桂冠散文作家和美国现代短篇小说之父。他出身于美国北卡罗来纳州格林斯波罗镇一个医师家庭。
他的一生富于传奇性，当过药房学徒、牧牛人、会计员、土地局办事员、新闻记者、银行出纳员。当银行出纳员时，因银行短缺了一笔现金，为避免审讯，离家流亡中美的洪都拉斯。后因回家探视病危的妻子被捕入狱，并在监狱医务室任药剂师。他创作第一部作品的起因是为了给女儿买圣诞礼物，但基于犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法国药典的编者的名字作为笔名。1901年提前获释后，迁居纽约，专门从事写作。
欧·亨利善于描写美国社会尤其是纽约百姓的生活。他的作品构思新颖，语言诙谐，结局常常出人意外；又因描写了众多的人物，富于生活情趣，被誉为“美国生活的幽默网络全书”。代表作有小说集《白菜与国王》、《四百万》、《命运之路》等。其中一些名篇如《爱的牺牲》、《警察与赞美诗》、《带家具出租的房间》、《麦琪的礼物》、《最后一片藤叶》等使他获得了世界声誉。
名 句：“这时一种精神上的感慨油然而生，认为人生是由啜泣、抽噎和微笑组成的，而抽噎占了其中绝大部分。”(《欧·亨利短篇小说选》)
内容简介编辑
《欧·亨利短篇小说选集》我们找来了专门研究西方发展史、西方文化的专家学者，请教了专业的翻译人员，精心挑选了这几部可以代表西方文化的著作，并听取了一些国外专门研究文学的朋友建议，不做注释，不做删节不做任何人为的改动。
目录编辑
The gift of the magi
A cosmopolite in a cafe
Between rounds
The skylight room
A service of love
The cop and the anthem
The love-philtre of lkey schoenstein
Mammon and the archer
Springtime ala carte
An unfinished story
Sisters of the golden circle
The romance of a busy broker
The furnished room
Telemachus,friend
The handbook of hymen
The penlum
The buyer from cactus city
Vanity and some sables
The social triangle
The lost blend
A harlem Tragedy
The last leaf
The count and the wedding guest
Jeff peters as a personal magnet
The exact science of matrimony
Conscience in art
The man higher up
A ramble in aphasia
Proof of the pudding
Past one at rooney's
‘The rose of Dixie’
The third ingredient
Buried treasure
The moment of victory
The sleuths
Witches'loaves
At arms with morpheus
Jimmy hayes and muriel
The plicity of hargreaves
Law and order
‘Next to reading matter’
A double-dyed deceiver
The passing of black eagle
A lickpenny lover
‘Little speck in garnered fruit’
While the auto waits
The shocks of doom
A technical error
Ruler of men
The atavism of john tom little bear
带天窗的房间
第一，帕克太太会告诉你双室。你不敢打断她对他们的优点和对已被他们占领了八年的绅士的优点的描述。然后你会结巴了供词，你既不是医生也不是牙医。帕克太太的收到录取的方式是这样的，你不可能后来招待向你父母一样的感觉，他没有把你培养的一种职业适合帕克太太的客厅。
下一步你登上一层楼梯，看了8层楼的二楼。她相信，二楼的方式，直到他离开他哥哥的橙园负责在佛罗里达州棕榈海滩附近是值得的12美元，toosenberry先生一直为它付出，麦金泰尔夫人总是花，有私人浴室的双室前的冬天，你又唠叨，你要的东西，还便宜。
如果你活下来了帕克太太的嘲笑，你被看的大型厅室斯基德先生在第三楼。斯基德先生的房间是不是空的。他在这一天写了一整天的香烟和香烟。但是每个房间的猎人了到他的房间里去欣赏lambrequins。每次访问后，斯基德先生，由拆迁引起的恐慌，会对他的租金付出的东西。
然后——哦，然后——如果你还是单脚站立，用你的热手抓三潮湿的美元在你的口袋里，并用嘶哑的声音说出了你那可耻的贫困，帕克太太就不再替你当向导。她会按喇叭大声说“克拉拉，”她会告诉你她回来，和3月楼下。然后克拉拉，彩色的女仆，会护送你到铺有地毯的阶梯，曾第四次飞行，并显示你的屋子里。它占据7x8英尺地面空间在大厅中间。一边是深色木材的壁橱或储藏室。
这是一个铁的床，一个椅子。架子是梳妆台。它的四个光秃秃的墙壁似乎靠近你，就像一个棺材的侧面。你的手爬到你的喉咙，你喘着气说，你看起来像是从一个——再一次呼吸。透过玻璃窗，你看到一个蓝色的无限的广场。
“两美元，先生，”克拉拉说，在她的轻蔑，半tuskegeenial音调。
一天，李森小姐来找一个房间。她拿着一个可以把周围的大太太的打字机。她是一个非常小的女孩，有眼睛和头发，一直保持着增长后，她停了下来，一直看起来好像他们在说：“天哪！你为什么不跟我们在一起？”
帕克太太给她双室。”“在这个柜子里，”她说，“一个人可以保持骨骼或麻醉或煤”
“但我既不是医生也不是牙医，”李森小姐说，“。
帕克太太给她怀疑的，同情的，嘲讽的，冰冷的眼神，她一直对那些没有资格的医生或牙医，和LED路二楼后面。
“八美元？”李森小姐说。亲爱的！我不是海蒂如果我看绿。我只是一个可怜的小女孩。给我看一些更高和更低的东西。”
斯基德先生跳起来，扔了一地用烟头在他的门说唱。
“对不起，斯基德先生，”帕克太太，她的恶魔的微笑在他苍白的样子。”我不知道你在。我问她有在你的lambrequins一看。”
“他们太可爱了，”李森小姐微笑着，正是天使们的方式。
在他们斯基德先生着实忙擦高了，黑头发的女主人公从他最新的（原始）插入一个小游戏，换上一个沉重的，光亮的头发和活泼的特点。
“安娜举行会抓住它，”斯基德先生自言自语地说，把他的脚靠lambrequins消失在一团烟雾像空中墨鱼。
目前，“克拉拉也打电话！”向世界响起了李森小姐的钱包。黑暗妖精抓住了她，一个阴暗的楼梯上，把她变成一个在其上面的一丝微光的拱顶和喃喃自语的威胁和神秘的“两美元！”
“我会把它拿出来！”李森小姐叹了口气，沉在吱吱响的铁床。
李森小姐每天都出去工作。晚上她带着手写的文件把文件拿给他们，并用她的打字机做了复印件。有时她晚上没有工作，然后她会坐在高高的门廊的步骤与其他房客。李森小姐不是打算在一个天空光的房间时，计划被绘制为她的创作。她是同性恋，善良和充满温柔的，异想天开的幻想。
有欣喜的先生们房客在每当李森小姐有时间坐上一个小时或两步骤。但错过Longnecker，高大的金发女郎是谁教在公立学校说，“嗯，真的！”对你说的一切，坐在最高的台阶了。多恩小姐，谁开枪移动着的鸭子在康尼每星期日在百货商店工作，坐在最下面的台阶上，嗅着。李森小姐坐在中间的一步，男人们很快就围着她。
尤其是那些斯基德先生，让她在他心中的明星参加一个私人的，浪漫的（潜）在现实生活中的戏剧。尤其是胡佛先生，谁是四十五，脂肪，冲洗和愚蠢。尤其是非常年轻的伊万斯先生，他给她开了一个小咳嗽，叫她离开香烟。他们选她“最快乐的时候，“但第一步和下一步的觉察是无情的。
* * * * * * *
我祈祷你让戏剧停顿而合唱秸秆的脚灯和下降，在胡佛先生的肥胖epicedian撕裂。调整管牛羊的悲剧，散装的祸根，肥胖的灾难。尝试了，可能会变得更加浪漫福斯塔夫吨比本来罗密欧摇摇晃晃的肋骨盎司。一个情人可能会叹息，但他一定不能。以滑稽的火车是胖子还押。徒劳的跳动的最忠实的心之上52英寸带。去你的吧，胡佛！胡佛，四十五，冲洗和愚蠢的，可能把海伦自己；四十五，胡佛，冲洗，愚蠢和脂肪是肉的灭亡。你是永远没有机会，胡佛。
当帕克太太的房客坐在这样一个夏天的晚上，李森小姐抬头望着天空，喊着她的小快活的笑：
“为什么，还有比利杰克逊！我也能从这里看到他。”
所有的人都在向上看，有些人在摩天大楼的窗户上，一些在飞船上投下了一个，禅师指导。
“那是星星，”李森小姐用一根小指头指着说。不是大的闪烁——稳定的蓝色的接近它。我每天晚上都能透过我的天窗看到它。我把它命名为比利杰克逊。”
“好吧，真的！”Longnecker小姐说。”我不知道你是一位天文学家，李森小姐。”
“哦，是的，“小观星者说，“我知道，就像他们任何关于袖子要在火星上穿下秋天的风格。”
“好吧，真的！”Longnecker小姐说。”你指的是明星的星座仙后座γ。它几乎是秒级，它的经络是-
“哦，”非常年轻的伊万斯先生，“我想比利杰克逊这个名字好得多。”
“就是，先生说：”胡佛，大声呼吸反抗Longnecker小姐。”我想李森小姐刚以明星为那些古老的占星家有多正确的。”
“好吧，真的！”Longnecker小姐说。
“我不知道它是否是一颗流星，”多恩小姐说。”我打了九只鸭子，在康尼星期日画廊的十只兔子。”
李森小姐说：“他在这里的表现不是很好。”你应该从我的房间里看见他。你知道，你可以看到星星，即使在白天从井底。晚上，我的房间就像是一个煤矿，这让比利杰克逊看起来像那天晚上把她的和服的大钻石别针。”
有一段时间后，李森小姐带来了没有强大的文件回家复印。当她早晨出去，而不是工作，她从办公室到办公室，让她的心融化在冷拒绝通过无礼的办公室男孩发送的点滴。这接着。
有天傍晚她疲倦地爬上了帕克太太的弯腰的时候她总是回到她在餐馆吃饭。但她没有吃晚饭。
当她走进大厅，胡佛先生遇到了她，抓住了机会。他请求她嫁给他，和他肥胖的盘旋在她的像雪崩。她躲开了，抓住栏杆。他试着她的手，她把它杀了他弱的脸。她一步一步地走上去，把自己拽到栏杆上。她通过了集材机的门他用红墨水桃金娘德洛姆舞台方向（李森小姐）在他（接受）的喜剧，“旋转从L到伯爵的一边穿过舞台。”铺有地毯的阶梯她爬最后打开了天窗室的门。
她太弱光灯或脱衣服。她倒在那张铁床，她脆弱的身体几乎没有空鼓磨损弹簧。在斯的屋子里，她慢慢地抬起沉重的眼皮，笑了。
比利杰克逊照耀在她身上，通过天窗平静和明亮的恒。她没有世界。她陷入了一个黑暗的深渊，但那苍白的光帧，她异想天开的明星小广场，所以徒劳地命名。想念Longnecker必须是正确的；它是γ，仙后星座里的，而不是比利杰克逊。但她不能让它成为伽玛
当她躺在她背上，她试了两次，以提高她的手臂。第三次，她纤细的手指和嘴唇两吹吻了黑坑，比利杰克逊。她的手臂无力地回落。
“再见了，比利，”她喃喃地说不。”你是百万里之外，你甚至不会闪烁一次。但你一直在我可以看到你的大部分时间，那里没有什么，但黑暗的看，不是吗？..数百万英里。..。再见了，比利杰克逊。”
克拉拉，有个彩色的女佣，第二天找到了10个门，他们强行打开了门。醋，和手腕和烧焦了的羽毛无济于事证明拍打，有人跑去打电话叫救护车。
在适当的时候靠在门上多公响的，和有能力的年轻医生，在他的白色亚麻外套，做好准备，积极，自信，他的光滑的脸一半快乐，一半冷酷，跳上台阶。
“救护车打电话到49，”他简短地说。什么麻烦？”
“哦，是的，医生，”帕克太太嗅了嗅，仿佛她的麻烦，房子里应该有更大的麻烦了。”我不能认为她是什么事。我们所能做的事都不能让她。这是一个年轻的女人，一个小姐——是的，一个李森小姐。我从来没在家里
“什么房间？”医生用一种可怕的声音叫了起来，帕克太太是个陌生人。
“天窗室。它--
很明显，救护车医生熟悉了房间的位置。他上了楼梯，一次四次。帕克夫人慢慢地走了，因为她的尊严要求。
在第一次着陆时，她遇到了他，他回来了，在他的手臂上。他停下来，放开实行手术刀的舌头，不大声。渐渐地，派克太太皱成了一条从钉子上滑下来的坚硬的衣服。后来还有揉在她的心灵和身体。有时她好奇的房客们问她什么，医生对她说。
“那就来吧，”她回答。如果我能得到宽恕，我会得到满足。”
救护车医生大步走他的负担通过猎狗跟随好奇心的追赶，甚至他们倒在人行道上羞愧，他的脸的人，有了自己的死。
他们注意到，他没有躺在床上准备在救护车上，他携带的形式，和所有他说的是：“开车像H * L，威尔逊，”司机。
这都是。这是一个故事吗？在第二天早上，我看到了一个小新闻项目，最后一句话，它可以帮助你（如它帮助我）焊接的事件一起。
它讲述了接收到一个年轻的女人已经从49号街东删除——Bellevue医院，患有衰弱引起的饥饿。用这些话结束：
“医生威廉-杰克逊，急救医生谁出席的情况下，说，病人将恢复。
10. 五千字的短篇小说，有没有好的投稿地址本人大学生，看one一个比较多，文风还算成熟的。
个人喜欢花火，如果是现代的最好投花火，古代虐的投飞魔幻，逗比风投桃之夭夭，这是我多年看这三种杂志总结出来的