這幾年，你跳過(guò)多少出題者精心備下的坑？ 感覺(jué)題不難，結(jié)果一對(duì)答案，“啊，沒(méi)看之后的but，老師明明說(shuō)過(guò)要多注意轉(zhuǎn)折的”。 考試一結(jié)束，就拍大腿，“哎呀，那道題我之前做過(guò)差不多的，就用那個(gè)公式，怎么忘了呢”。 是不是總在不經(jīng)意間，“Duang”，進(jìn)坑了 那么，怎么辦呢？答案很簡(jiǎn)單！刷題呀！ ? ? ? ??經(jīng)過(guò)多年的考試洗禮，小編覺(jué)得大家應(yīng)該已經(jīng)深刻意識(shí)到了刷題的必要性，并且不得不承認(rèn)：考試是有重點(diǎn)的，是有套路的，部分內(nèi)容是可以歸納總結(jié)的。 是的，刷題可以將知識(shí)活學(xué)活用，可以查缺補(bǔ)漏，可以快速提高應(yīng)試能力。 接下來(lái)，小編為大家準(zhǔn)備了10道SAT閱讀?？碱}，開(kāi)啟今天的考前一測(cè)吧？就當(dāng)練練手了。 準(zhǔn)備好了嗎？ Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage. Reading Test This passage is adapted from Nikolai Gogol, “ The Mysterious Portrait,” Qriginally published in 1835. Young Tchartkoff was an artist of talent, which promised great things: his work gave evidence of observation, thought, and a strong inclination to approach nearer to nature. “Look here, my friend,” his professor said to him more than once, “you have talent; it will be a shame if you waste it: but you are impatient; you have but to be attracted by anything, to fall in love with it, you become engrossed with it, and all else goes for nothing, and you won’t even look at it. See to it that you do not become a fashionable artist. At present your colouring begins to assert itself too loudly; and your drawing is at times quite weak; you are already striving after the fashionable style, because it strikes the eye at once. Have a care! society already begins to have its attraction for you: I have seen you with a shiny hat, a foppish neckerchief. It is seductive to paint fashionable little pictures and portraits for money; but talent is ruined, not developed, by that means. Be patient; think out every piece of work, discard your foppishness; let others amass money, your own will not fail you.” The professor was partly right. Our artist sometimes wanted to enjoy himself, to play the fop, in short, to give vent to his youthful impulses in some way or other; but he could control himself withal. At times he would forget everything, when he had once taken his brush in his hand, and could not tear himself from it except as from a delightful dream. His taste perceptibly developed. He did not as yet understand all the depths of Raphael, but he was attracted by Guido’s broad and rapid handling, he paused before Titian’s portraits, he delighted in the Flemish masters. The dark veil enshrouding theancient pictures had not yet wholly passed away from before them; but he already saw something in them, though in private he did not agree with the professor that the secrets of the old masters are irremediably lost to us. It seemed to him that the nineteenth century had improved upon them considerably, that the delineation of nature was more clear, more vivid, more close. It sometimes vexed him when he saw how a strange artist, French or German, sometimes not even a painter by profession, but only a skilful dauber, produced, by the celerity of his brush and the vividness of his colouring, a universal commotion, and a massed in a twinkling a funded capital. This did not occur to him when fully occupied with his own work, for then he forgot food and drink and all the world. But when dire want arrived, when he had no money where with to buy brushes and colours, when his implacable landlord came ten times a day to demand the rent for his rooms, then did the luck of the wealthy artists recur to his hungry imagination; then did the thought which so often traverses Russian minds, to give up altogether, and go down hill, utterly to the bad, traverse his. And now he was almost in this frame of mind. “Yes, it is all very well, to be patient, be patient!”he exclaimed, with vexation; “but there is an end to patience at last. Be patient! but what money have I to buy a dinner with to-morrow? No one will lend me any. If I did bring myself to sell all my pictures and sketches, they would not give me twenty kopeks for the whole of them. They are useful; I feel that not one of them has been undertaken in vain; I have learned something from each one. Yes, but of what use is it? Studies, sketches, all will be studies, trial-sketches to the end. And who will buy, not even knowing me by name? Who wants drawings from the antique, or the life class, or my unfinished love of a Psyche, or the interior of my room, or the portrait of Nikita, though it is better, to tell the truth, than the portraits by any of the fashionable artists? Why do I worry, and toil like a learner over the alphabet, when I might shine as brightly as the rest, and have money, too, like them?”
