词汇：sheet

n. 薄片，纸张；床单；薄板

相关场景

MICHAEL'S POV Crowded streets, occasional roving bands playing for the tourists; there is much evidence of tourism: Americans walking through the streets with cameras. Occasionally, we see a Cuban with a row of numbers attached to his hat, carrying a big sheet of the daily lottery numbers. From all of these street impressions, the city is booming with activity, but there is also much evidence of whores and pimps and little children begging in the streets.
>> The Godfather: Part II 教父2 1974 Movie Script
The courier is shown out through a private door, and then the first door is opened. Two accountants come in with the guards, and the trays are opened, and the counting process is begun all over again, this time with the State Tally sheets.
>> The Godfather: Part II 教父2 1974 Movie Script
INT DAY:
BODY IN BARBER SHOP (WINTER 1945) A MAN is covered by a sheet on the floor of a barber shop.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
He looks at his hand; the wetness is blood. He is frightened, pulls aside the covers, and sees fresh blood on his sheets and pajamas. He grunts, pulls the puddle of blood in his bed. He feels his own body frantically, moving, down, following the blood, until he is face to face with the great severed head of Khartoum lying at the foot of his bed. Just blood from the hacked neck. White reedy tendons show. He struggles up to his elbows in the puddle of blood to see more clearly. Froth covers the muzzle, and the enormous eyes of the animal are yellowed and covered with blood.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
He wakens, feels the sheets with displeasure; they are wet.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
ANGLE ON REAR OF COURTYARD Where a huge red sheet is pulled back to reveal tables laden with Chinese dishes, wine and other foods.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
He grips the sheets again, as the Grandfather picks up the book.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
CUT TO:
THE SICK KID'S ROOM The Kid looks the same, pale and weak, but maybe he's gripping the sheets a little too tightly with his hands.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
After supper Clara went to her bedroom. Gus’s letter lay on her bureau, unread. She lit her lamp and picked it up, scratching at the dried blood that stained one corner of the folded sheet. “I ought not to read this,” she said, aloud. “I don’t like the notion of words from the dead.” “What, Momma?” Betsey asked. She had come upstairs with Martin and had overheard.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Call sat by the bed, hoping he would open his eyes again. He could hear Gus breathing. The sun set, and Call moved back to the chair, listening to his friend’s ragged breath. He tried to remain alert, but he was tired. Some time later the doctor came in with a lamp. Call noticed blood dripping off the sheet onto the floor.
Call坐在床边，希望他能再次睁开眼睛。他能听到格斯的呼吸声。太阳落山了，Call回到椅子上，听着朋友急促的呼吸。他试图保持警惕，但他累了。过了一会儿，医生拿着灯进来了。Call注意到血从床单上滴落到地板上。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
She covered Bob with a clean sheet and went downstairs. Lorena was teaching the girls to play cards. They were playing poker for buttons. Clara stood in the shadows, wishing she didn’t have to interrupt their fun. Why interrupt it for a death that couldn’t be helped? And yet death was not something you could ignore. It had its weight. It was a dead man lying upstairs, not a man who was sick. It seemed to her she had better not form the practice of ignoring death. If she tried it, death would find a way to answer back—it would take another of her loved ones, to remind her to respect it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Augustus wrapped Deets carefully in a piece of wagon sheet and tied the sheet around him with heavy cord.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When Dish moved, Newt saw Deets. He was in the process of yawning when he saw him. Instead of springing up, he lay back down and pulled his blanket tighter. He opened his eyes and looked, and then shut them tightly. He felt angry at the men for having talked so loud that they had awakened him. He wished they would all die, if that was the best they could do. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted it to be one of those dreams that you wake up from just as the dream gets bad. He felt that was probably what it was. When he opened his eyes again he wouldn’t see Deets’s body lying on the wagon sheet a few yards away.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It was one of those who had brought July the news about his wife, although of course the soldier didn’t know it was July’s wife when he talked about finding the corpses of the woman and the buffalo hunter. Clara had been washing clothes and hadn’t heard the story, but when she went down to the lots a little later she knew something was wrong. July stood by the fence, white as a sheet.
>> 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
“I don’t get paid for watching cowboys wrestle with their dern boots, so I just leave the sheets off the bed. If they can’t shuck ’em quick, they have to do it with them on.” Meanwhile she had unbuttoned his pants and reached for his peter, which, once it was freed, met her halfway at least.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Every time I come I expect he’ll have stopped breathing,” she said. “I always stop and listen.” The man was breathing, though. July lifted him and Clara removed the sheets.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Is that woman real sick?” Betsey asked. “Why does she yell so much?” “She’s working at a hard task,” Clara said. “You better not burn that porridge, because I want some.” She carried the bucket up to the bedroom, pulled the smelly sheets out from under Bob, and washed him. Bob stared straight up, as he always did. Usually she warmed the water but this morning she hadn’t taken the time. It was cold and raised goosebumps on his legs. His big ribs seemed to stick out more every day. She had forgotten to bring fresh sheets—it was a constant problem, keeping fresh sheets—so she covered him with a blanket and walked out on her porch for a minute. She heard Elmira begin to moan, again and again. She ought to go relieve Cholo, she knew, but she didn’t rush. The birth might take another day. Everything took longer than it should, or else went too quick. Her sons’ lives had been whipped away like a breath, while her husband had lain motionless for two months and still wasn’t dead. It was wearying, trying to adjust to all the paces life required.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Besides, Bob wasn’t really alive, even then—his eyes never flickered. It was only reflex that enabled him to swallow the soup she fed him. That his rod still seemed to live when she bathed him, that, too, was reflex, an obscene joke that life was playing on the two of them. It raised no feelings of tenderness in her, just a feeling of disgust at the cruelties of existence. It seemed to mock her, to make her feel that she was cheating Bob of something, though it was not easy to say what. She had married him, followed him, fed him, worked beside him, borne his children—and yet even as she changed his sheets she felt there was a selfishness in her that she had never mastered. Something had been held back—what it was, considering all that she had done, was hard to say. But she felt it anyway, fair judgment or not, and lay awake on her cot through half the night, tense with self-reproach.
此外，即使在那时，鲍勃也不是真的活着——他的眼睛从来没有眨过。这是唯一能让他吞下她喂他的汤的反射。当她给他洗澡时，他的鱼竿似乎还活着，这也是一种反射，一个淫秽的笑话，说生活在他们俩身上玩。这并没有让她感到温柔，只是对生存的残酷感到厌恶。这似乎在嘲笑她，让她觉得自己在欺骗鲍勃，尽管说什么并不容易。她嫁给了他，跟着他，喂他，在他身边工作，生了他的孩子——然而，即使她换了他的床单，她也觉得自己有一种从未掌握过的自私。有些事情被隐瞒了——考虑到她所做的一切，很难说是什么。但不管公平与否，她还是感觉到了，躺在床上睡了半个晚上，自责得很紧张。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It seemed to her, after a month of it, that she was carrying Bob away with those sheets; he had already lost much weightand every morning seemed a little thinner to her. The large body that had lain beside her so many nights, that had warmed her in the icy nights, that had covered her those many times through the years and given her five children, was dribbling away as offal, and there was nothing she could do about it. The doctors in Ogallala said Bob’s skull was fractured; you couldn’t put a splint on a skull; probably he’d die. And yet he wasn’t dead. Often when she was cleaning him, bathing his soiled loins and thighs with warm water, the stem of life between his legs would raise itself, growing as if a fractured skull meant nothing to it. Clara cried at the sight—what it meant to her was that Bob still hoped for a boy. He couldn’t talk or turn himself, and he would never beat another horse, most likely, but he still wanted a boy. The stem let her know it, night after night, when all she came in to do was clean the stains from a dying body. She would roll Bob on his side and hold him there for a while, for his back and legs were developing terrible bedsores. She was afraid to turn him on his belly for fear he might suffocate, but she would hold him on his side for an hour, sometimes napping as she held him. Then she would roil him back and cover him and go back to her cot, often to lie awake half the night, looking at the prairies, sad beyond tears at the ways of things. There Bob lay, barely alive, his ribs showing more every morning, still wanting a boy. I could do it, she thought—would it save him if I did? I could go through it one more time—the pregnancy, the fear, the sore nipples, the worry—and maybe it would be a boy. Though she had borne five children, she sometimes felt barren, lying on her cot at night. She felt she was ignoring her husband’s last wish—that if she had any generosity she would do it for him. How could she lie night after night and ignore the strange, mute urgings of a dying man, one who had never been anything but kind to her, in his clumsy way. Bob, dying, still wanted her to make a little Bob. Sometimes in the long silent nights she felt she must be going crazy to think about such things, in such a way. And yet she came to dread having to go to him at night; it became as hard as anything she had had to do in her marriage. It was so hard that at times she wished Bob would go on and die, if he couldn’t get well. The truth was, she didn’t want another child, particularly not another boy. Somehow she felt confident she could keep her girls alive—but she lacked that confidence where boys were concerned. She remembered too well the days of icy terror and restless pain as she listened to Jim cough his way to death. She remembered her hatred of, and helplessness before, the fevers that had taken Jeff and Johnny. Not again, she thought—I won’t live that again, even for you, Bob. The memory of the fear that had torn her as her children approached death was the most vivid of her life: she could remember the coughings, the painful breathing. She never wanted to listen helplessly to such again.
>> 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
He bought an envelope, a stamp and a couple of sheets of writing paper, and the clerk, who seemed kindly, loaned him a pencil to write with.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He was a tricky bandit,” Jake said. “For all I know she may have liked him. She never liked me much.” Sally Skull had green eyes, which dilated when she took her powders. She looked at him like a mean cat that was about to pounce on a lizard. Though it was barely sunup they had already been at it, and the grimy sheets were a puddle of sweat.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Hell, I’m the only one of your customers that’s taken a bath this year,” Jake complained. “You could take up with bankers and lawyers, and the sheets wouldn’t stink so.” “I like ’em muddy and bloody,” Sally said. “I ain’t nice, this ain’t a nice place, and it ain’t a nice life. I’d take a hog to bed if I could find one that walked on two legs.” Jake had seen hogs that kept cleaner than some of the men Sally Skull took upstairs, but something about her raw behavior stirred him, and he stayed with her and paid the daily ten dollars. The cowboys that came through were very poor cardplayers, so he could usually make his fee back in an hour. He tried other whores in other saloons, skinny ones and fat ones, but with them a time came when he would remember Lorena and immediately lose interest. Lorena was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, and her beauty grew in his memory. He thought of her often with a pang, but also with anger, for in his view it was entirely her own fault that she had been stolen. Whatever was happening to her, it was her punishment for stubbornness. She could easily have been living with him in a decent hotel in Austin or Fort Worth.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Well, it’s a kind of game we’re talking about,” Augustus said. “Games are played for fun. You’ve thought about it as a business too long. If you win the card game you ought to pretend you’re a fancy lady in San Francisco who don’t have nothing to do but lay around on silk sheets and have a nigger bring you buttermilk once in a while. And what my job is is to make you feel good.” “I don’t like buttermilk,” Lorena said. To her surprise, Gus suddenly stroked her cheek. It took her aback and she put her head down on her knees. Gus put his hand under her wet hair and rubbed the back of her neck.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇