PHRASAL VERBS IN VIRGINIA WOOLF’S FICTION: THE WAVES: PAGE 10
Publicat el 11 de juliol de 2014 per ealonso
There are four phrasal verbs in The Waves, page 10,
To go in, to lay out, to pick up and to hand in :
To go in:
Meaning: enter
Text: ” Now we must GO IN together”
USE: basic
To lay out:
Meaning: arrange parts in relation to each other and to the whole in a convenient manner
Text: “…the copybooks are LAID OUT side by side”
USE: fulfilment of a definite end
To pick up:
meaning: take hold of and raise
Text “…like stones one PICKS UP by the seashore
USE: basic+metaphorical
To hand in:
Meaning: submit
Text” … the others are HANDING IN their answers”
USE: basic, opposition IN-OUT
Now the bell rings and we shall be late, Now we must drop our toys. Now we must GO IN together. The copybooks are LAID OUT side by side on the green baize table.”
“I will not conjugate the verb” said Louis, “until Bernard has said it. My father is a banker in Brisbane and I speak with an Australian accent. I will wait and copy Bernard. He is English. They are all English. Susan’s father is a clergyman. Rhoda has no father. Bernard and Neville are the sons of gentlemen. Jinny lives with her grandmother in London. Now they suck their pens. Now they twist therir copybooks, and looking sideways at Miss Hudson, count the purple buttons on her bodice. Bernard has a ship in his hair. Susan has a red look in her eyes. Both are flushed. But I am pale, I am neat, and my knickerbockers are drawn together by a belt with a brass snake. I know the lesson by heart. I know more than they will ever know. I know my cases and my genders; I could know everything in the world if I wished. But I do not wish to come to the top and say my lesson. My roots are threaded, like fibres in a flowerpot, round and round about the world. I do not wish to come to the top and live in the light of this great clock, yellow-faced, which ticks and ticks. Jinny and Susan, Bernard and Neville bind themselves into a thong with which to lash me. They laugh at my neatness, at my Australian accent, I will now try to imitate Bernard softly lisping Latin.”
“Those are white words,” said Susan, “like stones one PICKS UP by the seashore.”
“They flick their tails right and left as I speak them,” said Bernard. “They wag their tails; they flick their tails; they move through the air in flocks, now this way, now that way, moving all together, now dividing, now coming together.”
“Those are yellow words, those are fiery words,” said Jinny. “I should like a fiery dress, a yellow dress, a fulvous dress to wesr in the evening.”
“Each tense,” said Neville, “means differently. There is an order in this world; there are distinctions, there are differences in this world, upon whose verge I step. For this is only a beginning.”
“Now Miss Hudson,” said Rhoda, “has shut the book. Now the terror is beginning. Now taking her lump of chalk she draws figures, six, seven, eight, and then a cross and then a line on the blackboard. What is the answer? The others look; they look with understanding. Louis writes; Susan writes; Neville writes; Jinny writes; even Bernard has now begun to write. But I cannot write. I see only figures. The others are HANDING IN their answers, one by one. Now it is my turn. But I have no answer. The others are allowed to go. They slam the
“I will not conjugate the verb” said Louis, “until Bernard has said it. My father is a banker in Brisbane and I speak with an Australian accent. I will wait and copy Bernard. He is English. They are all English. Susan’s father is a clergyman. Rhoda has no father. Bernard and Neville are the sons of gentlemen. Jinny lives with her grandmother in London. Now they suck their pens. Now they twist therir copybooks, and looking sideways at Miss Hudson, count the purple buttons on her bodice. Bernard has a ship in his hair. Susan has a red look in her eyes. Both are flushed. But I am pale, I am neat, and my knickerbockers are drawn together by a belt with a brass snake. I know the lesson by heart. I know more than they will ever know. I know my cases and my genders; I could know everything in the world if I wished. But I do not wish to come to the top and say my lesson. My roots are threaded, like fibres in a flowerpot, round and round about the world. I do not wish to come to the top and live in the light of this great clock, yellow-faced, which ticks and ticks. Jinny and Susan, Bernard and Neville bind themselves into a thong with which to lash me. They laugh at my neatness, at my Australian accent, I will now try to imitate Bernard softly lisping Latin.”
“Those are white words,” said Susan, “like stones one PICKS UP by the seashore.”
“They flick their tails right and left as I speak them,” said Bernard. “They wag their tails; they flick their tails; they move through the air in flocks, now this way, now that way, moving all together, now dividing, now coming together.”
“Those are yellow words, those are fiery words,” said Jinny. “I should like a fiery dress, a yellow dress, a fulvous dress to wesr in the evening.”
“Each tense,” said Neville, “means differently. There is an order in this world; there are distinctions, there are differences in this world, upon whose verge I step. For this is only a beginning.”
“Now Miss Hudson,” said Rhoda, “has shut the book. Now the terror is beginning. Now taking her lump of chalk she draws figures, six, seven, eight, and then a cross and then a line on the blackboard. What is the answer? The others look; they look with understanding. Louis writes; Susan writes; Neville writes; Jinny writes; even Bernard has now begun to write. But I cannot write. I see only figures. The others are HANDING IN their answers, one by one. Now it is my turn. But I have no answer. The others are allowed to go. They slam the
Publicat dins de Sense categoria | Deixa un comentari