This is my first week in ** Senior Middle School.Everything here is new for me.Our school is an old school but it`s very beautiful.I have 50 new classmates in my class.They`re all very excellent, I think, and I felt a little sad.Because I`m too common.But come to think of it,it`s a very good thing.I believe I can also be very excellent if I study with such excellent classmates.I didn`t know why Ms *** chose me to be the committee of study.But I know it`s a good chance for me to raise my ability.All I can do is do my best in the future.I am sure that Ms *** and my classmates can help me when I do something wrong. Because they`re all very kind.It`s a pleasure to work and study with them.I`m really very happy.I`m not an outstanding student in this class,but I can do the same thing like others.I believe I won`t make anyone disappointed.
He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.
We crept through a broken hedge, groped our way up the path, and planted ourselves on a flower-plot under the drawing-room window.
It was beautiful - a splendid place carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the centre, and shimmering with little soft tapers. Isabella
she is eleven, a year younger than Cathy - lay screaming at the farther end of the room, shrieking as if witches were running red-hot needles into her.The long light hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful.
She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand, and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitef/wenzi/ully on the arm.
Her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.
Her lips were half asunder, as if she meant to speak, and she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence.
My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
There was a violent wind, as well as thunder, and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building: a huge bough fell across the roof, and knocked down a portion of the east chimney-stack, sending a clatter of stones and soot into the kitchen-fire.
And her teeth chattered as she shrank closer to the almost extinguished embers.
It had got dusk, and the moon looked over the high wall of the court, causing undefined shadows to lurk in the corners of the numerous projecting portions of the building.
A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow, and half covered with black whiskers; the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular.
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