词汇：bitter

adj. 苦的；痛苦的；充满仇恨的；尖刻的

相关场景

He looks around, disguisted as the crew fumble with the davits, and the tackle for the "falls"... the ropes which are used to lower the boats. A few passengers are coming out on deck, hesitantly in the noise and bitter cold.
>> 泰坦尼克号 Titanic (1997) Movie Script
110 ON THE BRIDGE, Captain Smith peers out at the blackness ahead of the ship. QUARTERMASTER HITCHINS brings him a cup of hot tea with lemon. It steams in the bitter cold of the open bridge. Second Officer Lightoller is next to him, staring out at the sheet of black glass the Atlantic has become.
>> 泰坦尼克号 Titanic (1997) Movie Script
Fight to the bitter end you cack-headed jackeye ??
>> Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides 加勒比海盗：惊涛怪浪 Movie Script
Each time the Americans have tasted the samurai spirit, they have learned the bitter taste of defeat, while Japan is embraced by the divine wind that has protected our island for seven centuries.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
The irony is bitter in his throat.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
For the first time, in the midst of the confusion, Hagen smiles. A bitter, contemptuous smile.
>> The Godfather: Part II 教父2 1974 Movie Script
DON CORLEONE:
Then take the justice from the judge, the bitter with the sweet, Bonasera. But if you come to me with your friendship, your loyalty, then your enemies become my enemies, and then, believe me, they would fear you... Slowly, Bonasera bows his head and murmurs.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
And yet, when he looked at Newt, standing there in the cold wind, with Canada behind him, Call found he couldn’t speak at all. It was as if his whole life had suddenly lodged in his throat, a raw bite he could neither spit out nor swallow. He had once seen a Ranger choke to death on a tough bite of buffalo meat, and he felt that he was choking, too—choking on himself. He felt he had failed in all he had tried to be: the good boy standing there was evidence of it. The shame he felt was so strong it stopped the words in his throat. Night after night, sitting in front of Wilbarger’s tent, he had struggled with thoughts so bitter that he had not even felt the Montana cold. All his life he had preached honesty to his men and had summarily discharged those who were not capable of it, though they had mostly only lied about duties neglected or orders sloppily executed. He himself was far worse, for he had been dishonest about his own son, who stood not ten feet away, holding the reins of the Hell Bitch.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Often she sat out on her upper porch at night, wrapped in Bob’s huge coat. She liked the bitter cold, a cold that seemed to dim the stars. Reflecting, she decided there had been something in what she and Gus had felt that needed separation.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Jasper couldn’t speak for an hour. Most of the men had long since grown bored with his drowning fears, and they left him to dry out his clothes as best he could. That night, when he was warm enough to be bitter, Jasper vowed to spend the rest of his life north of the Missouri rather than cross such a stream again. Also, he had developed an immediate resentment against beavers and angered Old Hugh several times on the trip north by firing at them recklessly with his pistol if he saw some in a pond.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The beer wasn’t, however. Feeling that it was not appropriate to drink right out on the main street, the boys took their liquor around to the back of the livery stable and fell to. At first they sipped cautiously, finding the beer rather bitter. But the more they drank, the less bothered they were by the bitter taste.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At night, alone, he grew bitter at himself for indulging in such pointless thoughts. It was like the business with Maggie that Gus harped on so. His mind tried to change it, have it different, but those too were pointless thoughts. Things thought and things said didn’t make much difference and with Gus spending all his time with the woman there was very little said anyway. Sometimes Gus would come over and ride with him for a few miles, but they didn’t discuss Jake Spoon. As such things went, it had been simple. He could remember hangings that had been harder: once they had to hang a boy for something his father had made him do.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Jake felt bitter that the day had turned so bad. It was his bad luck again—he couldn’t seem to beat it. If Wilbarger had been traveling even half a mile further west, they would never have seen him and his horses, and they would be in Dodge, enjoying the comforts of the town. On that vast plain, spotting three men and some horses was a mere accident—as much a matter of luck as the bullet that killed Benny Johnson. Yet both had happened. It was enough to make a man a pessimist, that such things had started occurring regularly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I guess if you watch you’ll find out,” Jake said, bitter that the man would address him so.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Dish don’t allow low types like us the right even to look at the girl,” Jasper remarked. He had met with nothing but rejection at the hands of Lorena, and was still bitter about it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But to his surprise, the minute he stepped inside the door of the post office his optimism gave way in a flash to bitter depression. In trying to think of what he would say in his letter he remembered all that had happened. Roscoe was dead, Joe was dead, the girl was dead, and Ellie not found—maybe she too was dead. All he had to report was death and failure. At the thought of poor Roscoe, gutted and left under a little pile of rocks on the prairie, his eyes filled with tears and he had to turn and walk back out the door to keep from embarrassing himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The bitter truth was that Gus was right. Maggie hadn’t even seemed like a whore. There was nothing hard about her—in fact, it was obvious to everyone that she was far too soft for the life she was living. She had tender expressions—more tender than any he had ever seen. He could still remember her movements—those more than her words. She could never quite get her hair to stay fixed, and was always touching it nervously with one hand. “It won’t behave,” she said, as if her hair were a child.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Lorena waited, but he said no more than that. She didn’t want to ask. It was always something, she thought—something to keep her from getting to the one place she wanted to be. It made her bitter—she remembered some of the things Gus had blabbed to her since she had known him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Riding away, Bolivar too felt very sad. Now that he was going, he was not sure why he had decided to go. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to face embarrassment. After all, he had fired the shot that caused the mules to run. Also, he didn’t want to get so far north that he couldn’t find his way back to the river. As he rode away he decided he had made another stupid choice. So far, in his opinion, almost every decision of his life had been stupid. He didn’t miss his wife that much—they had lost the habit of one another and might not be able to reacquire it. He felt a little bitter as he rode away.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Elmira didn’t respond. Often, from then on, she felt Big Zwey’s eyes on her, though he never spoke to her or even came near her. None of the other men did either—probably afraid they would be killed and dumped overboard if they approached her. Sometimes Zwey would sit watching her for hours, from far down the boat. It made her feel bitter.Already he thought she belonged to him, and the other men thought so too. It kept them away from her, but in their eyes she didn’t belong to herself. She belonged to a buffalo hunter who had never even spoken to her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What if Elmira comes back?” Roscoe asked. No one had raised that possibility. “Then I’d be gone and won’t know it.” “Why would she come back?” Peach asked. “She just left.” Roscoe found it hard even to remember Elmira, though he had done practically nothing but think about her for the last twenty-four hours. All he really knew was that he hated to ride out of the one town he felt at home in. That everyone was eager for him to go made him feel distinctly bitter.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The sight had been enough to discourage her from trying to stop a baby. Yet the thought that she had one made her bitter. She didn’t want to go through it all again, and she didn’t want to live with July Johnson. It was just that the buffalo hunter had been so rough; it had scared her into thinking she had to find a different life.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Despite his politeness and constant kindness, Elmira felt a bitterness toward him. The thing he didn’t know was that she was with child. He wouldn’t know it, either, if she could help it. She had just married out of fright—she didn’t want him or the child either. And yet she was scared to try and stop the child—in Abilene she had known a girl who bled to death from trying to stop a baby. She had died on the stairs outside Elmira’s room on a bitter cold night; blood had run all the way down the stairs and frozen in the night into red ice. The girl, whose name was Jenny, had stuck to the stairs. They had had to heat water in order to get her loose.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It seemed he was faced every single day with decisions that were hard to make. Sometimes, sitting at his own table, it was hard to decide whether to talk to Elmira or not. It was not hard to tell when Elmira was displeased, though. Her mouth got tight and she could look right through him and give no indication that she even saw him. The problem was trying to figure out what she was displeased about. Several times he had tried asking if anything was wrong and had been given bitter, vehement lectures on his shortcomings. The lectures were embarrassing because they were delivered in the presence of Elmira’s son, now his stepson, a twelve-year-old named Joe Boot. Elmira had been married in Missouri to a fellow named Dee Boot, about whom she had never talked much—she just said he died of smallpox.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The widow Spettle had a brood of eight children, Bill and Pete being the oldest. Ned Spettle, the father of them all, had died of drink two years before. It looked to Call as if the family was about to starve out. They had a little creek-bottom farm not far north of Pickles Gap, but the soil was poor and the family had little to eat but sowbelly and beans. The widow Spettle, however, was eager for him to take the boys, and would hear no protest from Call. She was a thin woman with bitter eyes. Call had heard from someone that she had been raised rich, in the East, with servants to comb her hair and help her into her shoes when she got up. It might just have been a story—it was hard for him to imagine a grownup who would need to be helped into their own shoes—but if even part of it was true she had come a long way down. Ned Spettle had never got around to putting a floor in the shack of a house he built. His wife was rearing eight children on the bare dirt. He had heard it said that Ned had never got over the war, which might have explained it. Plenty hadn’t. It accounted for the shortage of grown men of a certain age, that war. Call himself felt a kind of guilt at having missed it, though the work he and Gus had done on the border had been just as dangerous, and just as necessary.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇