one短篇小說
1. 我想找一些小故事等等 最近嘗試了一個app叫one 總體還可以 就是裡面瞎說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，傷勢很嚴重，痛苦地躺在巢穴里，不能外出覓食。 ●他感到又餓又渴，這時，他看見一隻羊，便請求他到附近的小河裡為他取一點水來。 ●「你給我一點水解渴」，他說，「我就能自己去尋找食物了。」 ●「是呀」，羊回答說，「如果我給你送水喝，那麼我就會成為你的食物。」 寓意: 謊言是經不起推敲的，它很容易被人們識破。 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
翻譯：
釘子
有一個壞脾氣的男孩，他父親給了他一袋釘子。並且告訴他，每當他發脾氣的時候就釘一個釘子在後院的圍欄上。第一天，這個男孩釘下了37根釘子。慢慢地，每天釘下的釘子數量減少了，他發現控制自己的脾氣要比釘下那些釘子容易。於是，有一天，這個男孩再也不會失去耐性，亂發脾氣。他告訴父親這件事情。父親又說，現在開始每當他能控制自己脾氣的時候，就拔出一根釘子。一天天過去了，最後男孩告訴他的父親，他終於把所有釘子給拔出來了。
父親握著他的手，來到後院說：「你做得很好，我的好孩子，但是看看那些圍欄上的洞。這些圍欄將永遠不能恢復到從前的樣子。你生氣的時候說的話就像這些釘子一樣留下疤痕。如果你拿刀子捅別人一刀，不管你說了多少次對不起，那個傷口將永遠存在。話語的傷痛就像真實的傷痛一樣令人無法承受。」
人與人之間常常因為一些無法釋懷的僵持，而造成永遠的傷害。如果我們都能從自己做起，開始寬容地看待他人，相信你一定能收到許多意想不到的結果。為別人開啟一扇窗，也就是讓自己看到更完整的天空。
3. 世界著名短篇小說、一定要短，最好有側重描寫人的心理的。特急！！！！
http://forum.fashion.eladies.sina.com.cn/cgi-bin/viewone.cgi?gid=37&fid=45&itemid=50557
一塊牛排
傑克·倫敦
這是最後一小塊麵包了.湯姆金用它蘸完了最後一點面醬,把盤子抹得乾乾凈凈了的,放進口中若有所思地細嚼慢咽著.從桌邊站起身的時候,他明顯地感覺到飢餓並未消除.吃上這頓飯的,只有他一個人.兩個孩子在隔壁房間里被早早地送上了床,因為拿不出晚飯給他們吃.妻子也沒有任何東西可吃.她一聲不響地坐在那兒,關切地望著丈夫.這是個出身於勞動人民階層的女人.身體單薄瘦弱,在她的臉上,還殘存著年輕時美貌的痕跡.她用最後的兩個便士買了麵包,所以只好從鄰居家借了點麵粉給丈夫做面醬.
湯姆金在窗旁坐下,那把東倒西歪的破椅子吱吱響著.他機械地拿起煙斗,放進嘴裡，然後一隻手伸進口袋裡,卻沒有找到煙絲.他明明知道口袋是空的,煙絲已沒有了,卻總記不住.他生氣地把煙斗放在一旁,動作緩慢,差不多有些笨拙,龐大的身體,笨重的肌肉使他有點萎靡不振.他是個身強力壯的傢伙,長相也應當說是很有吸引力的.不過他的衣服又破有舊,腳上的鞋子因為穿得太久,鞋底都快要磨穿了.身上的襯衫是兩個先令一件的便宜貨,領口已經爛了,油污也無法洗掉.
只要看一眼湯姆金的臉,你就准能猜到他是干什麼的.這是一張典型的拳擊手的臉,上面有著多年格鬥於拳擊場中留下的創傷和歲月本身的痕跡.盡管這張臉颳得乾乾凈凈的,它還是呈現出一副咄咄逼人的容貌.嚴重變形的嘴巴,彷彿是臉上裂開的一道傷口.下骸粗大,前突.濃眉下的眼睛,深深地陷在沉重的眼皮之中,目光呆滯,號無表情.在湯姆金身上你能看到一種動物的東西,尤其是他的兩隻眼睛,像是沒睡醒的獅子的眼睛,又像是准備一躍而起的野獸的眼睛.他的頭發理得很短,前額向後傾,醜陋的腦袋上看得清每一個疙瘩.鼻子由於無數次的打擊不斷地改變著形狀,有兩次打斷了鼻樑.兩只耳朵,常常弄傷,永遠腫著，比正常人的耳朵大出一倍.剛刮過的臉呈現出青黑色,說明他的鬍子,毛發很重.
通常,如果在黑暗的林蔭道或者荒郊野外,人們突然看見湯姆金,一定會感到害怕的.不過湯姆金卻不是個歹徒,他從來沒干過違法的勾當.如果將拳擊場上的格鬥除外的話,他從來沒傷過任何人.沒有人看到過他為了什麼事情與人爭吵.湯姆金是個職業拳擊手,他拳擊時那股蠻勁兒只有在他履行職責時才顯露出來.在賽場外,他很恬靜,而且待人隨和.他年輕的時候,花錢如流水一般,慷慨大方到不顧惜自己的地步.他從不記人家的仇,因此樹敵很少.拳擊對他來說是謀生手段.在拳擊場中,他把對手打傷,擊倒或者打垮,但是並無惡意.在賽場上理當如此.觀眾花錢來看比賽，就是為了看到一個拳擊手怎樣打敗另一個拳擊手.獲勝者可以得一大筆錢.二十年前湯姆金曾經與沃爾木盧高傑有一場交鋒.金知道高傑在紐卡斯爾的一次比賽中下巴受了重傷,足足養了四個月才得以恢復.他專門找機會攻擊高傑的下巴,終於在第九個回合中得手取勝.這並非一呢湯姆金對高傑有刻骨仇恨,而是因為只有攻其要害才能將對手打敗,從而獲取比賽的獎金.高傑也沒有因此而懷恨於金.他們都懂得並遵守游戲規則,人人都力求獲勝.
。。。。。。。。。。
4. 尋找你認為最優秀的短篇小說~
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. 關於一篇短篇科幻小說
《one day》夏茄的 男主是每天半夜12點准時失憶
6. 求歐亨利的英文短篇小說，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/ 歐亨利的全在裡面了，只要你能找到題目就行，給分吧，樓主
7. 世界著名短篇小說
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. 愛倫坡短篇小說集
《梅岑格施泰因》 Metzengerstein：孤僻暴戾的貴族寵愛壁毯中走下的紅色魔馬，縱容其生吃人肉的故事。
《德洛梅勒特公爵》 The Duc De L'Omelette：已經死去的貴族與魔王賭命還陽的故事。
《瘟疫王》 King Pest：黑死病隔離區等死的人們在進行最後的狂歡。
《厄舍府的倒塌》 The Fall of the House of Usher：被活埋的病女破土而出的復仇故事。
《麗姬婭 Ligeia》：亡妻占據新娘的肉體重生。
《莫雷娜》 Morella：亡妻占據女兒的肉體重生。
《貝蕾妮絲 》Berenice：活潑的表妹婚後變成黃臉婆，男人拔下她兩排仍然潔白的整齊牙齒的故事。
《埃萊奧諾拉》 Eleonora：早戀的表妹死後，男人背井離鄉棄誓另娶，表妹托夢祝福。
《幽會》 The Assignation：辭藻華麗內容空洞的殉情故事。
《鍾樓魔影 》The Devil in the Belfry：小鎮的鍾故障，一切秩序因此陷入混亂。
《奇怪天使》 The Angel of the Odd：酗酒男在自宅與自稱天使的妖怪辯論並遭其戲弄毆打的故事。
《被用光的人》 The Man That Was Used Up：殖民地侵略者大將軍戰績累累，在戰場上失去的四肢，眼睛，頭發，牙齒。全都換成了人造替代品。
《橢圓形畫像 》The Oval Portrait：一位畫家為美麗的未婚妻創作肖像，長期在閣樓上當模特嚴重磨損了她的健康，終於她在肖像完成之際猝然香消玉殞。
《紅死病的假面具》 The Masque of the Red Death：貴族們為躲避蔓延中的黑死病，在棲身的城堡中肆意狂歡。而戴著紅死魔的假面的紅死魔滲入城堡的舞會，開始收割四散逃竄的亡靈。
《一桶蒙特亞白葡萄酒》 The Cask of Amontillado：筵席上男人將喝醉酒的死對頭哄騙至地窖並砌牆封存的故事。
《泄密的心》 The Tell-tale Heart：男人因反感老頭的眼睛（ 類似《圓臉男人》）而潛入對方卧室將其殺害，埋藏屍體的地板下傳來心跳的幻聽，迫使男人在警察面前招供出屍體的位置。（類似 地穴傳說S02E08）
《反常之魔》 The Imp of the Perverse：男人為遺產用毒蠟燭殺害親長，因家族遺傳中的反常失控基因，而走街串巷高聲呼喊自己的罪行。（類似 地穴傳說S02E08）
《威廉·威爾遜》 William Wilson：學生幹掉和自己同名同貌同日生的假想敵，隨即為失去競爭對手感到失落的故事。
《黑貓》 The Black Cat：男人虐貓後的心路歷程。
《跳蛙》 Hop-Frog：侏儒設計殺害領主為愛人報仇的童話故事。
《你就是兇手》 Thou Art the Man
《被竊之信 》The Purloined Letter
《瑪麗·羅傑疑案 》The Mystery of Marie Roget
《莫格街謀殺案 》The Murders in the Rue Morgue
《金甲蟲》 The Gold-Bug
《塔爾博士和費瑟爾教授的療法》The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether：精神病人殺死主治醫生，冒充管理人員統治醫院，並戲弄前來交流學術的訪客的故事。（類似地穴傳說S03E05）
《長方形箱子》The Oblong Box：年輕畫家攜妻子、家人以及長方形箱子登上一艘去往紐約的郵船，同船偶遇大學時代的摯友。這位好奇的朋友對畫家的箱中物展開了合乎情理的猜測，當有機會向畫家暗示發現心得時，卻把可憐的畫家笑抽過去。郵船在一場突如其來的風暴中沉沒，畫家放棄逃生機會，與遺忘在船上的箱子一同葬身大海。箱中所藏何物？謎底將在一個月後船長的回憶中揭曉。
《生意人 》The Business Man
《欺騙是一門精密的科學》 Diddling
《千萬別和魔鬼賭你的腦袋》 Never Bet the Devil Your Head
《為什麼那小個子法國佬的手懸在吊腕帶里》 Why the Little Frenchman Wears His Hand in a Sling：自戀的愛爾蘭男爵和法國佬爭相追求一個漂亮的寡婦，並始終堅持相信寡婦愛他的鬧劇。
《眼鏡 》The Spectacles：近視男誤將時髦的老姑媽錯看作美女，因此遭對方戲弄的故事。
《絕境》 A Predicament：女人將頭從教堂鍾樓的牆洞里探出欣賞美景，結果脖子被落下的指針卡住，一點點鋸斷的悲慘故事。
《捧為名流》 Lionizing 一個不學無術的傻子靠鼻子而成為社交名流的荒謬故事。
《甭甭》 Bon-Bon
《人群中的人》 The Man of the Crowd：一個無聊的人每天跟蹤另一個無聊的人，然後感嘆對方生活很無聊的故事。
《森格姆·鮑勃先生的文學生涯》 The Literary Life of Thingum Bob,Esq.
《失去呼吸 》Loss of Breath
《用X代替O的時候》 X-ing a Paragrab
《四不象》 Four Beasts in One - The Homo-Cameleopard
《故弄玄虛 》Mystification
《漢斯·普法爾歷險記》（長篇）The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall
《阿·戈·皮姆的故事》（長篇） The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket
《羅德曼日記》（長篇未完） The Journal of Julius Rodman (unfinished serialized novel.)
9. 歐亨利短篇小說選集
《歐·亨利短篇小說選集》是2008年世界圖書出版公司出版的圖書，作者是歐·亨利。本書全部是歐·亨利的精彩短篇小說。
出版社: 世界圖書出版公司; 第1版 (2008年3月1日)
外文書名: The Selected short stories of O Henry
叢書名: 上海世圖?名著典藏
平裝: 329頁
正文語種: 英語
開本: 32
ISBN: 9787506263887
條形碼: 9787506263887
尺寸: 18.6 x 12.8 x 1.6 cm
重量: 281 g
作者簡介編輯
作者：(美國)歐·亨利(Henry.O.)
歐·亨利原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)，是美國最著名的短篇小說家之一，曾被評論界譽為曼哈頓桂冠散文作家和美國現代短篇小說之父。他出身於美國北卡羅來納州格林斯波羅鎮一個醫師家庭。
他的一生富於傳奇性，當過葯房學徒、牧牛人、會計員、土地局辦事員、新聞記者、銀行出納員。當銀行出納員時，因銀行短缺了一筆現金，為避免審訊，離家流亡中美的宏都拉斯。後因回家探視病危的妻子被捕入獄，並在監獄醫務室任葯劑師。他創作第一部作品的起因是為了給女兒買聖誕禮物，但基於犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法國 世界圖書出版公司; 第1版 (2008年3月1日)
外文書名: The Selected short stories of O Henry
叢書名: 上海世圖?名著典藏
平裝: 329頁
正文語種: 英語
開本: 32
ISBN: 9787506263887
條形碼: 9787506263887
尺寸: 18.6 x 12.8 x 1.6 cm
重量: 281 g
作者簡介編輯
作者：(美國)歐·亨利(Henry.O.)
歐·亨利原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)，是美國最著名的短篇小說家之一，曾被評論界譽為曼哈頓桂冠散文作家和美國現代短篇小說之父。他出身於美國北卡羅來納州格林斯波羅鎮一個醫師家庭。
他的一生富於傳奇性，當過葯房學徒、牧牛人、會計員、土地局辦事員、新聞記者、銀行出納員。當銀行出納員時，因銀行短缺了一筆現金，為避免審訊，離家流亡中美的宏都拉斯。後因回家探視病危的妻子被捕入獄，並在監獄醫務室任葯劑師。他創作第一部作品的起因是為了給女兒買聖誕禮物，但基於犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法國葯典的編者的名字作為筆名。1901年提前獲釋後，遷居紐約，專門從事寫作。
歐·亨利善於描寫美國社會尤其是紐約百姓的生活。他的作品構思新穎，語言詼諧，結局常常出人意外；又因描寫了眾多的人物，富於生活情趣，被譽為「美國生活的幽默網路全書」。代表作有小說集《白菜與國王》、《四百萬》、《命運之路》等。其中一些名篇如《愛的犧牲》、《警察與贊美詩》、《帶傢具出租的房間》、《麥琪的禮物》、《最後一片藤葉》等使他獲得了世界聲譽。
名 句：「這時一種精神上的感慨油然而生，認為人生是由啜泣、抽噎和微笑組成的，而抽噎佔了其中絕大部分。」(《歐·亨利短篇小說選》)
內容簡介編輯
《歐·亨利短篇小說選集》我們找來了專門研究西方發展史、西方文化的專家學者，請教了專業的翻譯人員，精心挑選了這幾部可以代表西方文化的著作，並聽取了一些國外專門研究文學的朋友建議，不做注釋，不做刪節不做任何人為的改動。
目錄編輯
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
帶天窗的房間
第一，帕克太太會告訴你雙室。你不敢打斷她對他們的優點和對已被他們佔領了八年的紳士的優點的描述。然後你會結巴了供詞，你既不是醫生也不是牙醫。帕克太太的收到錄取的方式是這樣的，你不可能後來招待向你父母一樣的感覺，他沒有把你培養的一種職業適合帕克太太的客廳。
下一步你登上一層樓梯，看了8層樓的二樓。她相信，二樓的方式，直到他離開他哥哥的橙園負責在佛羅里達州棕櫚海灘附近是值得的12美元，toosenberry先生一直為它付出，麥金泰爾夫人總是花，有私人浴室的雙室前的冬天，你又嘮叨，你要的東西，還便宜。
如果你活下來了帕克太太的嘲笑，你被看的大型廳室斯基德先生在第三樓。斯基德先生的房間是不是空的。他在這一天寫了一整天的香煙和香煙。但是每個房間的獵人了到他的房間里去欣賞lambrequins。每次訪問後，斯基德先生，由拆遷引起的恐慌，會對他的租金付出的東西。
然後——哦，然後——如果你還是單腳站立，用你的熱手抓三潮濕的美元在你的口袋裡，並用嘶啞的聲音說出了你那可恥的貧困，帕克太太就不再替你當向導。她會按喇叭大聲說「克拉拉，」她會告訴你她回來，和3月樓下。然後克拉拉，彩色的女僕，會護送你到鋪有地毯的階梯，曾第四次飛行，並顯示你的屋子裡。它占據7x8英尺地面空間在大廳中間。一邊是深色木材的壁櫥或儲藏室。
這是一個鐵的床，一個椅子。架子是梳妝台。它的四個光禿禿的牆壁似乎靠近你，就像一個棺材的側面。你的手爬到你的喉嚨，你喘著氣說，你看起來像是從一個——再一次呼吸。透過玻璃窗，你看到一個藍色的無限的廣場。
「兩美元，先生，」克拉拉說，在她的輕蔑，半tuskegeenial音調。
一天，李森小姐來找一個房間。她拿著一個可以把周圍的大太太的打字機。她是一個非常小的女孩，有眼睛和頭發，一直保持著增長後，她停了下來，一直看起來好像他們在說：「天哪！你為什麼不跟我們在一起？」
帕克太太給她雙室。」「在這個櫃子里，」她說，「一個人可以保持骨骼或麻醉或煤」
「但我既不是醫生也不是牙醫，」李森小姐說，「。
帕克太太給她懷疑的，同情的，嘲諷的，冰冷的眼神，她一直對那些沒有資格的醫生或牙醫，和LED路二樓後面。
「八美元？」李森小姐說。親愛的！我不是海蒂如果我看綠。我只是一個可憐的小女孩。給我看一些更高和更低的東西。」
斯基德先生跳起來，扔了一地用煙頭在他的門說唱。
「對不起，斯基德先生，」帕克太太，她的惡魔的微笑在他蒼白的樣子。」我不知道你在。我問她有在你的lambrequins一看。」
「他們太可愛了，」李森小姐微笑著，正是天使們的方式。
在他們斯基德先生著實忙擦高了，黑頭發的女主人公從他最新的（原始）插入一個小游戲，換上一個沉重的，光亮的頭發和活潑的特點。
「安娜舉行會抓住它，」斯基德先生自言自語地說，把他的腳靠lambrequins消失在一團煙霧像空中墨魚。
目前，「克拉拉也打電話！」向世界響起了李森小姐的錢包。黑暗妖精抓住了她，一個陰暗的樓梯上，把她變成一個在其上面的一絲微光的拱頂和喃喃自語的威脅和神秘的「兩美元！」
「我會把它拿出來！」李森小姐嘆了口氣，沉在吱吱響的鐵床。
李森小姐每天都出去工作。晚上她帶著手寫的文件把文件拿給他們，並用她的打字機做了復印件。有時她晚上沒有工作，然後她會坐在高高的門廊的步驟與其他房客。李森小姐不是打算在一個天空光的房間時，計劃被繪制為她的創作。她是同性戀，善良和充滿溫柔的，異想天開的幻想。
有欣喜的先生們房客在每當李森小姐有時間坐上一個小時或兩步驟。但錯過Longnecker，高大的金發女郎是誰教在公立學校說，「嗯，真的！」對你說的一切，坐在最高的台階了。多恩小姐，誰開槍移動著的鴨子在康尼每星期日在百貨商店工作，坐在最下面的台階上，嗅著。李森小姐坐在中間的一步，男人們很快就圍著她。
尤其是那些斯基德先生，讓她在他心中的明星參加一個私人的，浪漫的（潛）在現實生活中的戲劇。尤其是胡佛先生，誰是四十五，脂肪，沖洗和愚蠢。尤其是非常年輕的伊萬斯先生，他給她開了一個小咳嗽，叫她離開香煙。他們選她「最快樂的時候，「但第一步和下一步的覺察是無情的。
* * * * * * *
我祈禱你讓戲劇停頓而合唱秸稈的腳燈和下降，在胡佛先生的肥胖epicedian撕裂。調整管牛羊的悲劇，散裝的禍根，肥胖的災難。嘗試了，可能會變得更加浪漫福斯塔夫噸比本來羅密歐搖搖晃晃的肋骨盎司。一個情人可能會嘆息，但他一定不能。以滑稽的火車是胖子還押。徒勞的跳動的最忠實的心之上52英寸帶。去你的吧，胡佛！胡佛，四十五，沖洗和愚蠢的，可能把海倫自己；四十五，胡佛，沖洗，愚蠢和脂肪是肉的滅亡。你是永遠沒有機會，胡佛。
當帕克太太的房客坐在這樣一個夏天的晚上，李森小姐抬頭望著天空，喊著她的小快活的笑：
「為什麼，還有比利傑克遜！我也能從這里看到他。」
所有的人都在向上看，有些人在摩天大樓的窗戶上，一些在飛船上投下了一個，禪師指導。
「那是星星，」李森小姐用一根小指頭指著說。不是大的閃爍——穩定的藍色的接近它。我每天晚上都能透過我的天窗看到它。我把它命名為比利傑克遜。」
「好吧，真的！」Longnecker小姐說。」我不知道你是一位天文學家，李森小姐。」
「哦，是的，「小觀星者說，「我知道，就像他們任何關於袖子要在火星上穿下秋天的風格。」
「好吧，真的！」Longnecker小姐說。」你指的是明星的星座仙後座γ。它幾乎是秒級，它的經絡是-
「哦，」非常年輕的伊萬斯先生，「我想比利傑克遜這個名字好得多。」
「就是，先生說：」胡佛，大聲呼吸反抗Longnecker小姐。」我想李森小姐剛以明星為那些古老的占星家有多正確的。」
「好吧，真的！」Longnecker小姐說。
「我不知道它是否是一顆流星，」多恩小姐說。」我打了九隻鴨子，在康尼星期日畫廊的十隻兔子。」
李森小姐說：「他在這里的表現不是很好。」你應該從我的房間里看見他。你知道，你可以看到星星，即使在白天從井底。晚上，我的房間就像是一個煤礦，這讓比利傑克遜看起來像那天晚上把她的和服的大鑽石別針。」
有一段時間後，李森小姐帶來了沒有強大的文件回家復印。當她早晨出去，而不是工作，她從辦公室到辦公室，讓她的心融化在冷拒絕通過無禮的辦公室男孩發送的點滴。這接著。
有天傍晚她疲倦地爬上了帕克太太的彎腰的時候她總是回到她在餐館吃飯。但她沒有吃晚飯。
當她走進大廳，胡佛先生遇到了她，抓住了機會。他請求她嫁給他，和他肥胖的盤旋在她的像雪崩。她躲開了，抓住欄桿。他試著她的手，她把它殺了他弱的臉。她一步一步地走上去，把自己拽到欄桿上。她通過了集材機的門他用紅墨水桃金娘德洛姆舞台方向（李森小姐）在他（接受）的喜劇，「旋轉從L到伯爵的一邊穿過舞台。」鋪有地毯的階梯她爬最後打開了天窗室的門。
她太弱光燈或脫衣服。她倒在那張鐵床，她脆弱的身體幾乎沒有空鼓磨損彈簧。在斯的屋子裡，她慢慢地抬起沉重的眼皮，笑了。
比利傑克遜照耀在她身上，通過天窗平靜和明亮的恆。她沒有世界。她陷入了一個黑暗的深淵，但那蒼白的光幀，她異想天開的明星小廣場，所以徒勞地命名。想念Longnecker必須是正確的；它是γ，仙後星座里的，而不是比利傑克遜。但她不能讓它成為伽瑪
當她躺在她背上，她試了兩次，以提高她的手臂。第三次，她纖細的手指和嘴唇兩吹吻了黑坑，比利傑克遜。她的手臂無力地回落。
「再見了，比利，」她喃喃地說不。」你是百萬里之外，你甚至不會閃爍一次。但你一直在我可以看到你的大部分時間，那裡沒有什麼，但黑暗的看，不是嗎？..數百萬英里。..。再見了，比利傑克遜。」
克拉拉，有個彩色的女傭，第二天找到了10個門，他們強行打開了門。醋，和手腕和燒焦了的羽毛無濟於事證明拍打，有人跑去打電話叫救護車。
在適當的時候靠在門上多公響的，和有能力的年輕醫生，在他的白色亞麻外套，做好准備，積極，自信，他的光滑的臉一半快樂，一半冷酷，跳上台階。
「救護車打電話到49，」他簡短地說。什麼麻煩？」
「哦，是的，醫生，」帕克太太嗅了嗅，彷彿她的麻煩，房子里應該有更大的麻煩了。」我不能認為她是什麼事。我們所能做的事都不能讓她。這是一個年輕的女人，一個小姐——是的，一個李森小姐。我從來沒在家裡
「什麼房間？」醫生用一種可怕的聲音叫了起來，帕克太太是個陌生人。
「天窗室。它--
很明顯，救護車醫生熟悉了房間的位置。他上了樓梯，一次四次。帕克夫人慢慢地走了，因為她的尊嚴要求。
在第一次著陸時，她遇到了他，他回來了，在他的手臂上。他停下來，放開實行手術刀的舌頭，不大聲。漸漸地，派克太太皺成了一條從釘子上滑下來的堅硬的衣服。後來還有揉在她的心靈和身體。有時她好奇的房客們問她什麼，醫生對她說。
「那就來吧，」她回答。如果我能得到寬恕，我會得到滿足。」
救護車醫生大步走他的負擔通過獵狗跟隨好奇心的追趕，甚至他們倒在人行道上羞愧，他的臉的人，有了自己的死。
他們注意到，他沒有躺在床上准備在救護車上，他攜帶的形式，和所有他說的是：「開車像H * L，威爾遜，」司機。
這都是。這是一個故事嗎？在第二天早上，我看到了一個小新聞項目，最後一句話，它可以幫助你（如它幫助我）焊接的事件一起。
它講述了接收到一個年輕的女人已經從49號街東刪除——Bellevue醫院，患有衰弱引起的飢餓。用這些話結束：
「醫生威廉-傑克遜，急救醫生誰出席的情況下，說，病人將恢復。
10. 五千字的短篇小說，有沒有好的投稿地址本人大學生，看one一個比較多，文風還算成熟的。
個人喜歡花火，如果是現代的最好投花火，古代虐的投飛魔幻，逗比風投桃之夭夭，這是我多年看這三種雜志總結出來的