词汇：breathing

n. 呼吸；微风；瞬间

相关场景

INT NITE:
LUNA AZURA TOILET (WINTER 1945) MICHAEL steps into the small bathroom; he is breathing very hard. He actually uses the urinal. Then he washes his hands with the bar of pink soap; and dries them thoroughly.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
INT NITE:
DON'S ROOM 4A Slowly he pushes the door open, almost afraid at what he will find. He looks. Lit by the moonlight through the window, he can see a FIGURE in the hospital bed alone in the room, and under a transparent oxygen tent. All that can be heard is the steady though strained breathing. Slowly MICHAEL walks up to it, and is relieved to see his FATHER, securely asleep. Tubes hang from a steel gallows beside the bed, and run to his nose and mouth.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
Now, you have regulations and Compliance breathing down your throat.
>> 公正裁决 Equity (2016) Movie Script
[NAOMI MOANING AND BREATHING HEAVILY] NAOMI [ON RECORDING]: This is Naomi.
>> 公正裁决 Equity (2016) Movie Script
ANGLE ON DREW: Who gathers himself, straightens up and takes a deep breath, forcing it out in a breathing exercise.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
He is throwing kicks and going through his routines, concentrating on his breathing. As he finishes a particularly strenuous series, he strips off his clothes and dives into the lake.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
Gao and Li run up next to Drew, and together they go back to the temple. When they stop outside the temple, they are breathing heavily. finally catching his breath, Gao turns to Drew.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
Drew and Gao immediately break apart, breathing heavy and staring daggers at each other.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
MONK:
In order to keep our bodies strong, Bodhidharma gave us a series of exercises and breathing techniques. Because the times demanded action, we developed Shaolin style wu shu from these exercises.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
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
Finally Gus opened his eyes. His breathing was ragged but he reached over and took his pistol back as if he had just awakened from a refreshing nap. Then to Pea Eye’s amazement he crawled out of the cave, hobbled down to the water’s edge, and dug in the mud with his knife. He came back with a handful of mud the size of a cannonball.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Then he felt deeply frightened. If the Indians came now, they were lost, he felt sure. He cocked his pistol and Gus’s, and held them both at the ready until his hands grew tired. His head was throbbing. He laid the guns down and wet Gus’s forehead from the water bag, hoping Gus would revive. If the Indians came, he would have to shoot quick, and his best shooting had always been done slowly. He liked to take a fine aim. It seemed Gus would never revive. Pea Eye thought he might be dying, although he could hear him breathing.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I nagged Bob to build this house, and I don’t really care about a house,” Clara said. “We needed it for the girls, but that wasn’t why I built it. I just wanted to nag him into it and I did. The main reason was he wouldn’t let me work with the horses, although I’m better with them than he ever was. But he didn’t think it fitting—so I thought. All right then, Bob, build me a house. But I’d rather be down with the horses, and now there’s nothing to stop me.”Two weeks later, Bob died in the night. Clara went in in the morning to change him, and found him dead. He looked exactly as he had: he just was no longer breathing. He weighed so little by then that she could lift him. Having long concluded that he would die, she had had Cholo bring a pine coffin from town. He had brought it in at night and hidden it from the girls. It was ready.
>> 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
When she came out of the dream and heard him breathing, she clung so tightly to him that he woke up. It was very hot and her clinging made them sweaty.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The baby looked dead, and Elmira looked as if she were dying—but in fact both lived. Cholo held the little boy close to his face and blew on it, until finally the child moved and began to cry, a thin sound not much stronger than the squeak of a mouse. Elmira had passed out, but she was breathing.Clara went downstairs to heat some water and saw that the girls had taken breakfast to the two men. They were standing around while the men ate, not to be denied the novelty of conversation, even if only with two buffalo hunters, one of whom wouldn’t talk. It made her want to cry, suddenly, that her children were so devoid of playmates that they would hang around two sullen men just for the excitement of company. She heated the water and let the girls be. Probably the men would go on soon, though Luke seemed to be talking to the girls happily. Maybe he was as lonesome as they were.
>> 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
She went into the tent and lay awake all night while Dish Boggett sat nearby, keeping watch. It seemed to him he had never felt so lonely. The mere fact that she was so close, and yet they were separate, made the loneliness keener. When he had just thrown his blanket down with the boys, he didn’t imagine her so much, and he could sleep. Now she was just a few yards away—he could have crept up to the tent and heard her breathing. And yet it seemed he would never be able to eliminate those few yards. In some way Lorie would always be as distant from him as the Kansas stars. At times he felt that he had almost rather not be in love with her, for it brought him no peace. What was the use of it, if it was only going to be so painful? And yet, she had spoken to him in a friendly voice only that day. He couldn’t give up while there was a chance.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
An hour later, Wilbarger was still breathing. Augustus stepped away for a minute, to relieve himself, and when he came back Wilbarger had rolled off the blanket and was dead. Augustus rolled him on his back and tied him in the blanket. Call was down by the river, smoking and waiting. He looked up when Augustus approached.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“McCrae, I’ll give you credit for having written a damn amusing sign,” he said. “I’ve laughed about that sign many a time, and laughing’s a pleasure. I’ve got two good books in my saddlebags. One’s Mister Milton and the other’s a Virgil. I want you to have them. The Virgil might improve your Latin.” “I admit it’s rusty,” Augustus said. “I’ll apply myself, and many thanks.” “To tell the truth, I can’t read it either,” Wilbarger said. “I could once, but I lost it. I just like to look at it on the page. It reminds me of the Hudson, and my schooling and all. Now and then I catch a word.” He coughed up a lot of blood and both Call and Augustus thought it was over, but it wasn’t. Wilbarger was still breathing, though faintly. Call went over and told Pea Eye and Newt to start digging the grave—he wanted to get started after the horsethieves as soon as it was light enough to track. Restless, he walked over and helped Deets keep watch.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“But then sometimes they just go,” he added. “Go when they’re ready, or even if they ain’t. This man’s lost so much blood he might go over pretty soon.” Call and Augustus knew there was nothing to do but wait, so they sat beside Wilbarger’s pallet, saying little. Two hours passed with no sound but Wilbarger’s faint breathing.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I know I put three into him,” Dan Suggs said. “He must have slept with the damn reins in his hand or he’d have never got to His horse.” Frog Lip lay on the ground, still gripping his rifle. His eyes were wide open and he was breathing as heavily as a horse after a long run. His wound was in the groin—his pants were wet with blood. The rising sun shone in his face, which was bearded with sweat.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I wish he wouldn’t act that way,” Zwey said. “I won’t have nobody to hunt with if I kill him.” He looked down at Luke, who was still breathing, though his head and face were a pulp.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Yes,” Augustus said. “A man can’t outrun a horse. You get along. There’s a dangerous man loose along this river and I doubt that deputy of yours can handle him.” What if I can’t, either? July thought, looking down at Dog Face. He had managed to pull his genitals out of his mouth, and still lay breathing. Looking at the pool of blood he lay in, July felt his stomach start to come up. He turned away to keep from vomiting.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Why don’t you just shoot her?” he asked the little man. “She was willing to shoot you.” The little man didn’t answer. He was breathing hard but he continued to try and tie Janey’s wrists.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇