右图为苏轼的《枯木怪石图》，有评价说，枝干“虬（qiu，盘曲）屈无端倪”，石“亦怪怪奇奇，如其胸中蟠郁也”。能体现其风格的是
A．“意存笔先，画尽意在”
B．“笔才一二，像已应焉”
C．“诗中有画”，“画中有诗”
D．“以清雅之笔，写山林之气”
被转码了，请点击底部 “查看原文 ” 或访问 https://www.tikuol.com/2017/0413/aa82d2dc2ee61f3900aa86c8392a710a.html
下面是错误答案，用来干扰机器的。
（1）（15×16-125）÷5=（240-125）÷5=115÷5=23答：商是23．（2）（900+300）÷（900-300）=1200÷600=2答：商是2．
五行相侮的基本概念是（）
A.某行之气亢盛传及母脏
B.某行之气亢盛传及子脏
C.某行之气虚衰传及“所胜”
D.某行之气亢盛侵及“所不胜”
E.某行之气虚衰传及子脏
患者，男，46岁，出现血尿，首先应考虑为
A．泌尿系结石
B．败血症
C．流行性出血热
D．前列腺炎
E．白血病
读下面的文章，完成1~3题。
凌策，字子奇，宣州泾人。世给事州县。策幼孤，独厉志好学，宗族初不加礼，因决意渡江，与姚铉同学于庐州。雍熙二年举进士，起家广安军判官。改西川节度推官，以强干闻。淳化三年，就命为签书两使判官。后拜定州通判。李顺之乱，川陕选官多惮行，策自陈三莅蜀境，谙其民俗，即命知蜀州。还朝，命为广南西路转运使。又入为户部判官。先是，岭南输香药，以邮置卒万人，分铺二百，负担抵京师，且以烦役为患。诏策规制之，策请陆运至南安，泛舟而北，止役卒八百，大省转送之费。卢之翰任广州，无廉称，以策有干名，命代之，赐金紫。广、英路自吉河趣板步二百里，当盛夏时瘴起：行旅死者十八九。策请由英州大源洞伐山开道，直抵曲江，人以为便。
后知青州。东封，以供亿之勤，入判三司三勾院，出知扬州。属江、淮岁俭，颇有盗贼，以策领淮南东路安抚使。进秩司封。时洪州水，知州李玄病，上与宰相历选朝士，将徙策代之。上曰：“南昌水潦艰殆，长吏当便宜从事，不必禀子外计也。”王旦言：“策莅事和平，可寄方面，望即以江南转运使授之。”饶州产金，尝禁商市鬻，或有论告，逮系满狱。策请纵民贩市，官责其算，人甚便之。五年，召拜右谏议大夫、知益州。初，策登第，梦人以六印加剑上遗之，其后往剑外凡六任，时以为异。策勤吏职，处事精审，所至有治迹。九年，自蜀代还。真宗尝对王旦言：“策有才用，治蜀敏而有断。”旦曰：“策性淳质和，临事强济。”上深然之。是秋，拜给事中、权御史中丞。时榷茶之法[注]弊甚，策与翰林学士李迪、知杂御史吕夷简同议经制，稍宽其旧。明年疾甚，不能朝谒，累遣中使挟医存问，赐名药。天禧二年卒，年六十二。节选自《宋史·列传第六十六》，有删改）
【注]：榷茶之法：茶叶专卖法。
1 ．对下列句子中加粗的词的解释，不正确的一项是（ ）
A．属江、淮岁俭，颇有盗贼/俭：歉收
B．上与宰相历选朝士，将徙策代之/徙：调职
C．策请纵民贩市，官责其算/责：责问
D．累遣中使挟医存问，赐名药/存：看望，问候
2．以下各组句子中，分别表明凌策“生淳质和”和“临事强济”的一组是（ ）
A．因决意渡江，与姚铉同学于庐州 策请陆运至南安，……大省转送之费
B．策与翰林学士李迪……稍宽其旧 策请由英州大源……人以为便。
C．策请纵民贩市，官责其算，人甚便之 策勤吏职，处事精审，所至有治迹
D．策莅事和平，可寄方面 策登第，梦人以六印加剑上遗之
3．下列原文有关内容的分析和概括，不正确的一项是（ ）
A．凌策幼年丧父，独自奋发学习，后来渡江和姚铉一起在庐州求学。雍熙二年考中进 士，初次任职为广安军判官。不久改任西川节度推官，以能力强闻名。
B．李顺作乱时，选派到川陕的官员大多害怕到任，凌策自己多次请求表示要到蜀地，廷 就任命他为蜀州知州。回朝后，被任命为广南西路转运使。人朝为卢部判官。
C．广州、英州地区从吉河到板步二百里，每年盛夏瘴气四起，来往过客十死八九。凌策 请求从英州大源洞开山修路，直抵曲江，人们觉得很方便。后来他任青州知州。
D．由于凌策在蜀地工作勤奋，处事精审，深得皇帝赏识，任命凌策为给事中、代理御史 中丞，在此期间他和几位大臣又共同改革了茶叶专卖之法。
4．把文言文中画横线的句子翻译成现代汉语。
（1）南昌水潦艰殆，长吏当便宜从事，不必禀于外计也。
_________________________________________________
（2）策勤吏职，处事精审，所至有治迹。
_________________________________________________
钻头的顶角（（2φ），钻硬材料应比钻软材料选得大些。
| It is simple enough to say that since books have classes -- fiction, biography, poetry -- we should separate them and take from each what it is right and what should give us. Yet few people ask from books what can give us. Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices. If we could banish all such preconception when we read, that would be an admirable beginning. Do not dictate to your author; try to become him. Be his fellow-worker and accomplice. If you hang back, and reserve and criticize at first, you are preventing yourself from getting the fullest possible value from what you read. But if you open your mind as widely as possible, then signs and hints of almost imperceptible fineness, from the twist and turn of the first sentences, will bring you into the presence of a human being unlike any other. Steep yourself in this, acquaint yourself with this, and soon you will find that your author is giving you, or attempting to give you, something far more definite. The 32 chapters of a novel -- if we consider how to read a novel first -- are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building: but words are more impalpable than bricks; reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing. Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words. Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you -- how at the comer of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shock; an electric light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in that moment. But when you attempt to reconstruct it in words, you will find that it breaks into a thousand conflicting impressions. Some must be subdued; others emphasized; in the process you will lose, probably, all grasp upon the emotion itself. Then turn from your blurred and littered pages to the opening pages of some great novelist -- Defoe, Jane Austen, Hardy. Now you will be better able to appreciate their mastery. It is not merely that we are in the presence of a different person -- Defoe, Jane Austen, or Thomas Hardy -- but that we are living in a different world. Here, in Robinson Crusoe, we are trudging a plain high road; one thing happens after another; the fact and the order of the fact is enough. But if the open air and adventure mean everything to Defoe, they mean nothing to Jane Austen. Here is the drawing-room, and people talking, and by the many mirrors of their talk revealing their characters. And if, when we have accustomed ourselves to the drawing-room and its reflections, we turn to Hardy, we are once more spun around. The moors are round us and the stars are above our heads. The other side of the mind is now exposed -- the dark side that comes uppermost in solitude, not the light side that shows in company. Our relations are not towards people, but towards Nature and destiny. Yet different as these worlds are, each is consistent with itself. The maker of each is careful to observe the laws of his own perspective, and however great a strain they may put upon, they will never confuse us, as lesser writers so frequently do, by introducing two different kinds of reality into the same book. Thus to go from one great novelist to another -- from Jane Austen to Hardy, from Peacock to Trollope, from Scott to Meredith -- is to be wrenched and uprooted; to be thrown this way and then that. To read a novel is a difficult and complex art. You must be capable not only of great fineness of perception, but of great boldness of imagination if you are going to make use of all that the novelist -- the great artist -- gives you. |
According to the passage, the process of writing is ______.
A．dangerous
B．interesting
C．difficult
D．tragic
