词汇：memory

n. 记忆，记忆力；回忆；内存，存储器

相关场景

He studies her face, burning it into his memory.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
Now we have to access Metal's memory banks and adjust them.
>> 刺猬索尼克 1996 Sonic the Hedgehog Movie Script
Well, all of Sonic's data was input into Metal's memory.
>> 刺猬索尼克 1996 Sonic the Hedgehog Movie Script
Kwan smiles with the memory – it is a sweet and heroic one.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
Yeah, I'm alright You must help him regain his memory You!
>> 西域雄狮 Once Upon a Time in China and America Movie Script
Checking your pulse Aunt Yee, Master suffers from loss of memory So... He has lost his memory?
>> 西域雄狮 Once Upon a Time in China and America Movie Script
No... Master seems to have lost his memory Piss off! Leave me alone, would you?
>> 西域雄狮 Once Upon a Time in China and America Movie Script
Let's see how good a memory you've got for faces.
>> 美国往事Once Upon a Time in America Movie Script
"Erected to their everlasting memory by their friend and brother David Aaronson, "Noodles" Can I take that for you, sir?
>> 美国往事Once Upon a Time in America Movie Script
CUT TO:
COUNT RUGEN: looking across the room at Inigo. He stares at Inigo's face, and then touches his own cheeks, as memory comes.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
INIGO:
Fezzik, jog his memory.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
WESTLEY:
(happily) This will all soon be but a happy memory because Roberts' ship "Revenge" is anchored at the far end. And I, as you know, am Roberts.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
It was the "please" that caught my memory.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
Two days before the hanging was to take place, Call decided to go see the prisoner. He had already met the deputy who had crippled Blue Duck’s horse. The man, whose name was Decker, was fat and stone drunk, leading Call to suspect that Goodnight had been right—the shot had been lucky. But every man in the Territory had insisted on buying the deputy a drink since then; perhaps he had been capable of sobriety before he became a hero. He was easily moved to sobs at the memory of his exploit, which he had recounted so many times that he was hoarse.
在绞刑前两天，Call决定去见犯人。他已经见过那个使蓝鸭的马残废的副手了。这个名叫戴克的人又胖又醉，这让Call怀疑晚安是对的——这次枪击很幸运。但从那以后，领土上的每个人都坚持要给这位副手买一杯饮料；也许在他成为英雄之前，他已经能够保持清醒了。想起自己的功绩，他很容易感动得抽泣起来，他已经讲了很多次，声音都嘶哑了。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Gus was crazy and you’re foolish to drag a corpse that far,” Clara said bluntly. “Bury him here and go back to your son and your men. They need you. Gus can rest with my boys.” Call flinched when she said the word “son,” as if she had never had a doubt that Newt was his. He himself had once been a man of firm opinion, but now it seemed to him that he knew almost nothing, whereas the words Clara flung at him were hard as rocks.“I told him that very thing,” Call said. “I told him you’d likely want him here.” “I’ve always kept Gus where I wanted him, Mr. Call,” Clara said. “I kept him in my memory for sixteen years. Now we’re just talking of burying his body. Take him to the ridge and I’ll have July and Dish get a grave dug.” “Well, it wasn’t what he asked of me,” Call said, avoiding her eyes. “It seems that picnic spot you had in Texas is where he wanted to lay.” “Gus was a fine fool,” Clara said. “He was foolish for me or any other girl who would have him for a while. Because it was me he thought of, dying, is no reason to tote his bones all the way to Texas.” “It was because you picnicked in the place,” Call said, confused by her anger. He would have thought a woman would feel complimented by such a request, but Clara clearly didn’t take it that way.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
In those hours he would lose himself in memory of other times, of other men who had lived with horses, who had broken them, ridden them, died on them. He felt proud of the boy, and with it, anguish that their beginnings had been as they had. It could not be changed, though. He thought he might speak of it sometime, as Gus had wanted him to, and yet he said nothing. He couldn’t. If he happened to be alone with the boy, his words went away. At the thought of speaking about it a tightness came into his throat, as if a hand had seized it. Anyway, what could a few words change? They couldn’t change the years.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That night, sitting in Wilbarger’s little tent, Call remembered the remark. He also remembered Gus’s efforts to talk to him about the boy. With Gus pressing him, it was his nature to resist, but with Gus gone he didn’t find it so distasteful to consider that the boy was his son. He had certainly gone to his mother, hateful as the memory was. Maggie, of course, had not been hateful—it was the strange need she induced in him that he disliked to remember.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Or his dern pigs, if they’re so smart,” Soupy said. Both pigs were under the wagon. Pea Eye, who slept in the wagon, had to listen to their grunts and snores all night.Only the Irishman seemed sympathetic to Gus’s stance. “Why, it would only have left half of him,” he said. “Who wants to be half of himself?” “No, half would be about the hips,” Jasper calculated. “Half would be your nuts and all. Just your legs ain’t half.” Dish Boggett took no part in the conversation. He felt sad about Gus. He remembered that Gus had once lent him money to visit Lorena, and this memory lent another tone to his sadness. He had supposed Gus would go back and visit Lorena, but now, clearly, he couldn’t. She was there in Nebraska, waiting for Gus, who would never come.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
After he had thought about it for a while, Pea was profoundly glad the night was so dark. He wished it could stay dark forever, or at least until he pulled in sight of the herd. When he thought of all the perils he was exposed to, it was all he could do to keep from running. He remembered vividly all the things Indians did to white men. In his rangering days he had helped bury several men who had had such things done to them, and memories of those charred and gouged corpses was with him in the darkness. With him too, and just as terrifying, was the memory of the great orange bear who had nearly ripped the Texas bull wide open. He remembered how fast the bear had gone when they tried to chase it on horseback. If such a bear spotted him he felt he would probably just lie down and give up.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At dawn Clara went out and took Cholo some coffee. He had finished digging and was sitting on the mound of earth that would soon cover Bob. Walking toward the ridge in the early sunlight, Clara had the momentary sense that they were all watching her, the boys and Bob. The vision lasted a second; it was Cholo who was watching her. It was windy, and the grass waved over the graves of her three boys—four now, she felt. In memory Bob seemed like a boy to her also. He had aboyish innocence and kept it to the end, despite the strains of work and marriage in a rough place. It often irritated her, that innocence of his. She had felt it to be laziness—it left her alone to do the thinking, which she resented. Yet she had loved it, too. He had never been a knowing man in the way that Gus was knowing, or even Jake Spoon. When she decided to marry Bob, Jake, who was a hothead, grew red in the face and proceeded to throw a fit. It disturbed him terribly that she had chosen someone he thought was dumb. Gus had been better behaved, if no less puzzled. She remembered how it pleased her to thwart them—to make them realize that her measure was different from theirs. “I’ll always know where he is,” she told Gus. It was the only explanation she ever offered.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Sitting in the kitchen with the girls and the baby, Lorena felt happy in a way that was new to her. It stirred in her distant memories of the days she had spent in her grandmother’s house in Mobile when she was four. Her grandmother’s house had been like Clara’s—she had gone there only once that she could remember. Her grandmother had put her in a soft bed, the softest she had ever slept in, and sung songs to her while she went to sleep. It was her happiest memory, one she treasured so, that in her years of traveling she grew almost afraid to remember it—someday she might try to remember it and find it gone. She was very afraid of losing her one good, warm memory. If she lost that, she felt she might be too sad to go on.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When she came down from washing her face, she heard talk from the back and stopped dead on the stairs, for there was no doubt who was talking. The chord of memory that had been weakly struck by the sight of the horsemen resounded through her suddenly like an organ note. No sound in the world could have made her happier, for she heard the voice of Augustus McCrae, a voice like no other. He sounded exactly as he always had—hearing his voice so unexpectedly after sixteen years caused her eyes to fill. The sound took the years away. She stood on the stairs in momentary agitation, uncertain for a second as to when it was, or where she was, so much did it remind her of other times when Augustus would show up unexpectedly, and she, in her little room over the store, would hear him talking to her parents. Only now he was talking to her girls. Clara regretted not changing blouses—Gus had always appreciated her appearance. She walked on down the stairs and looked out the kitchen window. Sure enough, Gus was standing there, in front of his horse, talking to Betsey and Sally. Woodrow Call sat beside him, still mounted, and beside Call, on a bay horse, was a young blond woman wearing men’s clothes. A good-looking boy on a brown mare was the last of the group.Clara noted that Gus had already charmed the girls—July Johnson would be lucky to get another bowl of soup out of them as long as Gus was around.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Something about the men coming from the north struck a key in her memory, but struck it so weakly that she only paused for a moment to wonder who it could be. She finished her task and then washed her face, for the dust was blowing and she had gotten gritty coming back from the lots. It was the kind of dust that seemed to sift through your clothes. She contemplated changing blouses, but if she did that, the next thing she knew she would be taking baths in the morning and changing clothes three times a day like a fine lady, and she didn’t have that many clothes, or consider herself that fine. So she made do with a face wash and forgot about the riders. July and Cholo were both working the lots and would no doubt notice them too. Probably it was just a few Army men wanting to buy horses. Red Cloud was harrying them hard, and every week two or three Army men would show up wanting horses.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Now Jake was gone and Clara near. It seemed to him he might be wise not to go see her—just trail on into Montana and let the past be past. No woman had affected his heart in the way she had. The memory was so sweet he was almost afraid to threaten it by seeing what Clara had become. She might have become a tyrant—she had that potential, even as a girl.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Clara saw at once that he had sustained some blow. When she saw him come back without even the mail, it had been on her tongue to say something about his poor memory. She and the girls hungered for the magazines and catalogues that came in the mail, and it was a disappointment to have someone ride right past the post office and not pick them up. But July looked so low that she refrained from speaking. At the supper table she tried several times to get a word or two out of him, but he just sat there, scarcely even touching his food. He had been ravenous since coming off the plains—so whatever the blow was, it was serious.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇