词汇：weather

n. 天气；气象；处境；气候

相关场景

EXT. TOKYO - VARIOUS SHOTS - DAY It's a pleasant day, and the people of Tokyo are in a confident, happy mood. They're shopping, smiling, enjoying beautiful spring weather. The Emperor is on the garden of his palace having lunch.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
RAFE:
Maybe we'll be lucky with the weather.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
Should've gone with the weather.
>> 战争机器 War Machine (2017) Movie Script
TIGHT ON SEVERAL OF THE DISCIPLES They are good workers, and they don't mind the hard work nor the hot weather quite so much.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
ASHEMA:
A long time – through the worst weather. He just sat there, unmoving, through rain, sleet, snow.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
The weather is cold, why are you not inside resting?
>> 新少林寺 Shaolin (2011)Movie Script
Meteorology estimates that he'll be covered in sand... from normal weather activity within a year.
>> 火星救援 The Martian (2015) Movie Script
The weather improved the next day and he rode for a time beside a hundred or so Crow Indians who were traveling south. The Crow were friendly, and their old chief, a dried-up little man with a great appetite for tobacco and talk, tried to get Call to camp with them. They were all interested in the fact that he was traveling with a coffin and asked him many questions about the man inside it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
In the early spring, while the weather was still chancy, fifteen horses disappeared one night. It was only by luck that the theft was discovered, for in such a place at such a time horsethieves were the last thing they were expecting. Call had taken the precaution of going with Old Hugh to two or three of the nearest Indian camps to meet the chiefs and do the usual diplomacy, in the hope of preventing the sort of surprise encounter that had proven deadly for Gus. The visits made him sad, for the Indians were not belligerent and it was apparent that Gus had merely struck the wrong bunch at the wrong time, in the wrong manner. It was a depressing irony, for Gus had always been one to preach diplomacy with the red man and over the years had engaged in many councils that Call himself thought pointless. Gus had talked to many a warrior that Call would merely have shot, and yet had got killed in a place where most of the Indians were happy to talk, particularly to a man who owned an endless supply of beef.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That night he wondered if he ought to leave. He could not stay around Clara without nursing hopes, and yet he could detect no sign that she cared about him. Sometimes he thought she did, but when he thought it over he always concluded that he had just been imagining things. Her remarks to him generally had a stinging quality, but he would often not realize he had been stung until after she left the scene. Working together in the lots, which they did whenever the weather was decent, she often lectured him on his behavior with the horses. She didn’t feel he paid close attention to them. July was at a loss to know how anyone could pay close attention to a horse when she was around, and yet the more his eyes turned to her the worse he did with the horses and the more disgusted she grew. His eyes would turn to her, though. She had taken to wearing her husband’s old coat and overshoes, both much too big for her. She wouldn’t wear gloves—she claimed the horses didn’t like it—and her large bony hands often got so cold she would have to stick them under the coat for a few minutes to warm them. She wore a variety of caps that she had ordered from somewhere—apparently she liked caps as much as she liked cake. None of them were particularly suited to a Nebraska winter. Her favorite one was an old Army cap Cholo had picked up on the plains somewhere. Sometimes Clara would tie a wool scarf over it to keep her ears warm, but usually the scarf came untied in the course of working with the horses, so that when they walked back up for a meal her hair was usually spilling over the collar of the big coat. Yet July couldn’t stop his eyes from feasting on her. He thought she was wonderfully beautiful, so beautiful that merely to walk with her from the lots to the house, when she was in a good mood, was enough to make him give up for another month all thought of leaving. He told himself that just being able to work with her was enough. And yet, it wasn’t—which is why the question finally forced itself out. He was miserable all night, for she hadn’t answered the question. But he had spoken the words and revealed what he wanted. He supposed she would think worse of him than she already did, once she thought it over.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
So Call agreed, and Newt stayed at the fort a month, breaking horses. The weather improved. It was cold, but the days were often fine and sunny. Newt’s only scare came when he took a strong sorrel gelding out of the fort for his first ride and the horse took the bit between his teeth and raced out onto the Missouri ice. When the horse hit the ice he slipped and, though he crashed through the ice, fortunately they were in shallow water and Newt was able to struggle out and lead the horse out too. A few soldiers coming in with a load of wood helped him get dry. Newt knew it would have been a different story if the horse had made it to the center of the river before breaking through the ice.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The next day, since the weather continued pretty, he decided to go to Fort Benton himself. Major Court had indicated that the Army might frequently need beef if the winter got bad and the tribes fared poorly. After all, he had come to Montana in the hope of selling cattle. Once the news reached Texas that they had made the drive, others would soon follow, probably by next fall, and it was well to establish good connections with the Army, the only buyer in the Territory who might want beef.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Only Po Campo seemed to thrive in the weather. He still relied largely on his serape, plus an old scarf he had found somewhere, and he annoyed the men by nagging them to go shoot a bear. His theory was that bear meat would help them get used to the weather. Even if it didn’t, a bearskin might come in handy.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He saw plentiful Indian sign, but no Indians. It was cold but brilliantly sunny. He felt that the whole top of the Montana territory was empty except for the buffalo, the Indians and the Hat Creek outfit. He knew it was time to stop and get a house of some kind built before a blizzard caught them. He knew one could come any time. He himself paid no attention to weather, and didn’t care, but there were the men to think of. It was too late for most of them to go back to Texas that fall. Like it or not, they were going to be wintering in Montana.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Finally, though, he got up and stumbled on. The soldiers would only find his bones, if they found anything. It was a blazing day, so hot it made him feel annoyed at Montana weather. What kind of country was it where you could get frostbite one night and sunburn two days later? He saw a couple of prairie dogs and wasted an hour trying to get one with a rock. But the prairie dogs were smarter than prairie chickens, and he never came close.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Oh, dern,” Pea Eye said. “Now I guess we’ll get lightning-struck.” “Go back to sleep, if all you can do is be pessimistic,” Augustus said. “I smell rain, which is a blessing. Indians mostly don’t like to fight in the wet. Only white men are dumb enough just to keep on fighting no matter what the weather is like.” “We’ve fought Indians in the wet,” Pea Eye said.
“哦，现代，”Pea-Eye说。奥古斯都说：“现在我想我们会被闪电击中的。”“如果你所能做的就是悲观，那就回去睡觉吧。”。“我闻到了下雨的味道，这是一种福气。印度人大多不喜欢在潮湿的天气里打架。只有白人才会愚蠢到不管天气如何，都会继续打架。”“我们在潮湿的地方和印第安人打架，”Pea-Eye说。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But through the years they had been so lucky with visitors that Clara had gradually ceased to jump and take fright at the sight of a rider on the horizon. Their tragedies had come from weather and sickness, not attackers. But the habit of looking close had not left her, and she turned with a clean sheet in one hand and watched out her window as the horsemen dipped off the far slopes and disappeared behind the brush along the river.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
To his surprise, he didn’t enjoy the visit to Ogallala very much. He hit the dry-goods store just as the owner was closing and persuaded him to reopen long enough for him to buy Lorie a mass of clothes. He bought everything from petticoats to dresses, a hat, and also a warm coat, for they were sure to strike cool weather in Montana. He even bought himself a black frock coat worthy of a preacher, and a silk string tie. The merchant soon was in no mood to close; he offered Augustus muffs and gloves and felt-lined boots and other oddities. In the end he had such a purchase that he couldn’t even consider carrying it—they would have to come in tomorrow and pick it up in the wagon, though he did wrap up a few things in case Lorie wanted to wear them to Clara’s. He bought her combs and brushes and a mirror—women liked to see themselves, he knew, and Lorena hadn’t had the opportunity since Fort Worth.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Come on, July,” she said. “These girls mean to see that we keep up our standards.” He put the rifle back in the saddle scabbard and followed her into the house.AS THE HERD wound across the brown prairies toward the Platte, whoring became the only thing the men could talk about. Of course, they always liked to talk about it, but there had been sections of the drive when they occasionally mentioned other things—the weather, cards, the personalities of horses, trials and tribulations of the past. After Jake’s death they had talked a good deal about the vagaries of justice, and what might cause a pleasant man to go bad. Once in a while they might talk about their families, although that usually ended with everyone getting homesick. Though a popular subject, it was tricky to handle.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He only liked pacers,” Newt said. “He wouldn’t be bothered to steal horses as long as he had one to ride. Just beingalong didn’t make him a horsethief.” “It do to the Captain,” Deets said. “It do to Mr. Gus.” “They didn’t even talk to him,” Newt said bitterly. “They just hung him. They didn’t even act like they were sorry.” “They sorry,” Deets said. “Saying won’t change it. He’s gone, don’t worry about him. He’s gone to the peaceful place.” He put his hand for a moment on Newt’s shoulder. “You need to rest your mind,” he said. “Don’t worry about the sleepers.” How do you stop? Newt wondered. It wasn’t a thing he could forget, Pea Eye mentioned it as he would mention the weather, something natural that just happened and was over. Only for Newt it wasn’t over. Every day it would rise in his mind and stay there until something distracted him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
She longed, sometimes, to talk to a person who actually wrote stories and had them printed in magazines. It interested her to speculate how it was done: whether they used people they knew, or just made people up. Once she had even ordered some big writing tablets, thinking she might try it anyway, even if she didn’t know how, but that was in the hopeful years before her boys died. With all the work that had to be done she never actually sat down and tried to write anything—and then the boys died and her feeling changed. Once the sight of the writing tablets had made her hopeful, but after those deaths it ceased to matter. The tablets were just another reproach to her, something willful she had wanted. She burned the tablets one day, trembling with anger and pain, as if the paper and not the weather had been somehow responsible for the deaths of her boys. And, for a time, she stopped reading the magazines. The stories in them seemed hateful to her: how could people talk that way and spend their time going to balls and parties, when children died and had to be buried?
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Now Bob lay in that bed all day, staring his empty stare. They had moved the bed near the window so that he would get the summer breezes and could look out if he liked and watch his horses grazing on the plain, or the hawks circling, or whatever little sights there might be. But Bob never turned his head, and no one knew if he felt the breezes. Clara had taken to sleeping on a little cot. The house had a small upper porch and she moved the cot out there in good weather.
现在鲍勃整天躺在床上，茫然地盯着他。他们把床移到窗户附近，这样他就可以享受夏日的微风，如果他喜欢的话，可以向外看，看他的马在平原上吃草，或者鹰在盘旋，或者任何可能的小风景。但鲍勃从来没有转过头来，没有人知道他是否感觉到了微风。克拉拉已经习惯睡在小床上了。房子有一个小的上门廊，天气好的时候，她把小床搬到了外面。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
And yet he loved the girls in his unspeaking way. His love mostly came out in awkwardness, for their delicacy frightened him. He was continually warning them about their health and trying to keep them wrapped up. Their recklessness almost stopped his heart at times—they were the kind of girls who would run out in the snow barefoot if they chose. He feared for them, and also feared the effect on his wife if one of them should die. Impervious to weather himself, he came to dread the winters for fear winter would take the rest of his family. Yet the girls proved as strong as their mother, whereas the boys had all been weak. It made no sense to Bob, and he was hoping if they could only have another boy, he would turn into the helper he needed.The only hand they had was an old Mexican cowboy named Cholo. The old man was wiry and strong, despite his age, and stayed mainly because of his devotion to Clara. It was Cholo, and not her husband, who taught her to love horses and to understand them. Cholo had pointed out to her at once that her husband would never break the mustang mare; he had urged her to persuade Bob to sell the mare unbroken, or else let her go. Though Bob had been a horse trader all his adult life, he had no real skill with horses. If they disobeyed him, he beat them—Clara had often turned her back in disgust from the sight of her husband beating a horse, for she knew it was his incompetence, not the horse’s, that was to blame for whatever incident had provoked the beating. Bob could not contain his violence when angered by a horse.
然而，他以一种不说话的方式爱着这些女孩。他的爱大多是在尴尬中流露出来的，因为它们的微妙让他害怕。他不断地提醒他们注意自己的健康，并试图让他们保持健康。他们的鲁莽有时几乎让他心跳停止——她们是那种如果愿意，会光着脚在雪地里跑出来的女孩。他为他们担心，也担心如果他们中的一个死了，会对他的妻子产生影响。他对天气毫不知情，开始害怕冬天，因为担心冬天会带走他的家人。然而，事实证明，女孩们和他们的母亲一样强壮，而男孩们都很虚弱。这对鲍勃来说毫无意义，他希望如果他们能再要一个男孩，他就能成为他需要的帮手。他们仅有的一只手是一位名叫乔洛的墨西哥老牛仔。这位老人虽然年纪大了，但又瘦又壮，留下来主要是因为他对克拉拉的忠诚。是乔洛，而不是她的丈夫，教会了她爱马和理解马。乔洛立刻向她指出，她的丈夫永远不会折断那匹野马；他催促她说服鲍勃把母马完好无损地卖掉，否则就放了她。虽然鲍勃成年后一直是一名马贩子，但他对马没有真正的技能。如果他们不服从他，他就会打他们——克拉拉经常因为看到丈夫打马而厌恶地转过身去，因为她知道，无论是什么事件引发了殴打，都是他的无能，而不是马的无能。鲍勃被马激怒时，忍不住大发雷霆。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Then the next winter both boys had died of pneumonia within a month of one another. It was a terrible winter, the ground frozen so deep there was no way to dig a grave. They had had to put the boys in the little kindling shed, wrapped tightly in wagon sheets, until winter let up enough that they could be buried. Many days Bob would come home from delivering horses to the Army—his main customer—to find Clara sitting in the icy shed by the two small bodies, tears frozen on her cheeks so hard that he would have to heat water and bathe the ice from her face. He tried to point out to her that she mustn’t do it—the weather was below zero, and the wind swept endlessly along the Platte. She could freeze to death, sitting in the kindling shed. If only I would, Clara thought—I’d be with my boys.
第二年冬天，两个男孩在一个月内相继死于肺炎。那是一个可怕的冬天，地面冻得太深，无法挖坟墓。他们不得不把男孩们放在小火棚里，用马车布紧紧包裹着，直到冬天足够暖和，他们才能被埋葬。很多天，鲍勃把马送到军队——他的主要客户——回家后，会发现克拉拉坐在两具小尸体旁的冰棚里，脸颊上的泪水冻得如此之硬，以至于他不得不加热水，把她脸上的冰洗掉。他试图向她指出，她不能这样做——天气在零度以下，风沿着普拉特河无休止地吹着。她坐在火棚里会冻死的。要是我愿意就好了，克拉拉想——我会和我的孩子们在一起。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“No, señor, he is buried,” Po Campo said. “A victim of lightning.” “That’s a pity,” Augustus said. “He was young and had promise.” “It kilt thirteen head with one bolt,” Pea Eye said. “You never seen such lightning, Gus.” “I seen it,” Augustus said. “We had a little weather too.” Newt felt warm and happy, his clothes on and Mr. Gus back with the crew. The sky had cleared and the clouds that had caused the terrible hail were only a few wisps on the eastern horizon. In the bright sun, with the river crossed and the cattle grazing on the wet grass, and Lorena rescued, life seemed like a fine thing, though every once in a while he would remember Bill Spettle, buried in the mud a few miles back, or Sean O’Brien, way down on the Nueces—the warm sun and bright air had brought them no pleasure. Po Campo had given him a hailstone dipped in molasses and he sat licking it and feeling alternately happy and sad while the men got dressed and prepared to be cowboys again.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇