—My stomach () a lot.I guess that's because I didn't eat my breakfast. —It won't () you if you miss breakfast for once.
A. hurts;hurt
B. harms;hurt
C. injures;harm
D. wounds;injure
如搜索结果不匹配，请 联系老师 获取答案
更多“—My stomach （) a lot.I guess t…”相关的问题
第1题
A、heart
B、head
C、mind
D、stomach
第2题
My stomach hurts. I feel sick. —For safety's sake, ().
A. go to see a doctor tomorrow
B. Better to go to hospital
C. you'd better see a doctor at once
D. Quick go to hospital
第3题
I had butterflies in my() when I first stood in front of the public.
A nose
B feet
C hands
D stomach
第4题
A. butterflies
B. flies
C. butter
D. gadflies
第5题
Doctor: What has been bothering you？
Patient: I have a stuffy nose and a sore throat. Plus， I’ve been coughing a lot____.8____
Doctor: Any stomach pains？
Patient: Actually， yes. My stomach’s been upset for a few days.
Doctor:____ 9 ____It’s been going around lately.
Patient: Anything I can do for it？
Doctor: I’11 prescribe some medicines for you to take.____ 10____
Patient: Does that mean I shouldn’t go to work？
Doctor: Only when you feel up to it. You should stay home for at least a day or two.
第8题__________ 查看材料
A.It sounds like a flu.
B.I also advise resting for a couple of days.
C.Boy， when it rains， it pours.
D.How long have you been like this？
第6题
, we all need to know the art of apologizing. Look back with honesty and think how often you’ve judged roughly, said __1__ things, pushed yourself ahead at the expense of a friend. Then count the occasions when you indicated clearly and __2__ that you were sorry. A bit frightening, isn’t it？ Frightening because some deePwisdom in us knows that when even a small wrong has been committed, some mysterious moral feeling is __3__, and it stays out of balance until fault is acknowledged and __4__ is expressed.I remember a doctor friend, telling me about a man who came to him with a variety of signs: headaches, insomnia and stomach trouble. No __5__ cause could be found. Finally my friend said to the man, "Unless you tell me what’s worrying you, I can’t helPyou."After some hesitation, the man __6__ that, as executor of his faher’s will, he had been cheating his brother, who lived abroad, of his __7__. Then and there the wise old doctor made the man write to his brother asking __8__ and enclosing a cheque as the first stePin restoring their good relation. He then went with him to mail box in the corridor. As the letter disappeared, the man burst into tears. "Thank you," He said, "I think I’m __9__." And he was. A heartfelt apology can not only __10__ a damaged relationshiPbut also make it stronger. If you can think of someone who deserves an apology from you, someone you have wronged, or just neglected, do something about it right now.
A)heal
B)mental
C)unkind
D)regret
E)accurately
F)confessed
G)inheritance
H)physical
I)cured
J)treat
K)truly
L)unfaithful
M)forgiveness
N)disturbed
O)excuse
第7题
Dialogue Three
Doctor: What has been bothering you？
Patient: I have a stuffy nose and a sore throat. Plus， I’ve been coughing a lot____.8____
Doctor: Any stomach pains？
Patient: Actually， yes. My stomach’s been upset for a few days.
Doctor:____ 9 ____It’s been going around lately.
Patient: Anything I can do for it？
Doctor: I’11 prescribe some medicines for you to take.____ 10____
Patient: Does that mean I shouldn’t go to work？
Doctor: Only when you feel up to it. You should stay home for at least a day or two.
第8题__________ 查看材料
A.It sounds like a flu.
B.I also advise resting for a couple of days.
C.Boy， when it rains， it pours.
D.How long have you been like this？
第8题
I sit at the kitchen table beneath a peach-painted ceiling and a chandelier with oversized plastic teardrops. Every now then I get up and walk over to the counter, peer into the yellow tub, watch, pretend to watch, and then sit down again. Across from me, the little knick-knacks my mother loves So much-ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown -- are arranged carefully upon the window sill.
My mother's hands are thin-skinned, pale, spotted and freckled with age and sun. The nails are thick, almost yellow. A few strands of hair, not quite black, fall over her forehead and her mouth is slightly open, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth as she lifts and mixes the cabbage leaves. "Are you paying attention？" she wants to know, and I nod at ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown.
Kim chee is pickled cabbage. Friends always ask me for botfies of the stuff: Mama Kim’s special recipe, they tease. I pass this on the my mother and she grumbles and laughs, embarrassed, pleased.
My mother’s hands lle in my lap and I touch them carefully, life them like small, live animals, fit them into the plans of my own hands, turn them over and think of crab-hunting as a child and a trail of overturned, shell-encrusted sea rocks.
Once I told my mother that I would like to photograph' her hands, and she peered down at them, lifted her hands up to her face suspiciously as if seeing them for the first time. "My hands？" she asked, and I went and fetched some skin lotion from the bathroom. Her hands were too dry.
I had her sit on the couch in the living-room. The couch was floral-patterned and she sat in the centre of it, awkward, distracted. I took the pictures, head-to-toe shots, some of her hands alone. They lay limply in her lap. She held one hand with the other. She didn’t know what else to do with them. I took the pictures. Every ten minutes or so she got up and walked to the kitchen, checked the oven, the various pots. My father walked by once, and joked, "How about my hands？"
The cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember. A winter’s sun floats in through the window, plays weakly with the plastic tear-drops, falls down onto the kitchen table, onto my own hands. I suppose they will soon lock like hers.
I get up, restless, lean over the counter, try to concentrate. Every year for the last five years or so I have asked my mother to teach me how to pickle cabbage. Every year I have watched her hands, seen the aprons change, the stomach grow more round -- the cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember.
I take the roils of film to a friend who knows something about photography. He develops them and is impressed. He sees a small Asian woman, smiling hesitantly into a camera, lost among the flowers of living-room couches. She is tired and stiff. My friend doesn’t even notice her hands. He calls the photos "real", I call them "disappointing".
The kim chee is just made so it is not quite ripe, but we eat a little of it at dinner, anyway. My father tells me his story about villagers who ran away during the war, as the bombs came down, with earthenware kim chee pots in their anus. It is favourite, not quite-ripe kim chee story.
When the winter sunlight comes through the kitchen window, tear-refracted onto my own hands. I stop writing and put down my pen. My mother asks, "What are you writing？" And I tell her that I am writing about kim chee. She laughs, "You don’t even kn
A．My mother’s hand.
B．Pickled cabbage.
C．Kim chee.
D．My mother.
第9题
A.f(x)≥-M(1-y) g(x)≤My
B.f(x)≥-My g(x)≤My
C.f(x)≥-M(1-y) g(x)≤M(1-y)
D.g(x)≥-M(1-y) f(x)≤My
为了保护您的账号安全，请在“赏学吧”公众号进行验证，点击“官网服务”-“账号验证”后输入验证码“”完成验证，验证成功后方可继续查看答案！
微信搜一搜
赏学吧
微信搜一搜
赏学吧
