Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) was born in Oak Park, Illinois. He is one of America's most famous writers. He received the Nobel Prize for novels and short stories. Hemingway lived a life full of adventure, participating in the First and Second World Wars. He spent a lot of time hunting and fishing. Many of his books are based on such experiences. His favorite theme is courage.
: when I returned, they said that the boy refused to let someone into the room. “You cannot enter,” he said. “You should not get what I have.” I went to him and found him exactly in the position in which I left him, with a white face, he looked at the other end of the bed. I measured his temperature. "What is there?" “Something like a hundred,” I said. It was one hundred two and four tenths. “One hundred and two,” he said. “Who said that?” "Doctor." “Your temperature is all right,” I said. "Nothing to worry about." “I'm not worried,” he said, “but I can't help but think.” “Don't think,” I said. “Just calm down.” “I take it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He went on about something with himself. I sat down and opened pirated books. But I saw that he did not follow, so I stopped "What time do you think I'll die?" - he asked. “You are not going to die. What happened to you?"
B. At the bottom, the doctor left three different drugs in different colored capsules with instructions for use. Returning to the room, I recorded the temperature of the guy and made a note of this time to give various capsules. “Do you want me to read to you?” “If you want,” the boy said. His face was very white, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He lay quietly in bed and seemed very detached from what was happening. I read from the pirate book Howard Pile; but I saw that he did not follow what I read. “How are you feeling, Schatz?” I asked him. “Same,” he said, glancing across the bed and looking very strange. “Why don't you go to sleep? I will wake you up for medicine. ” “I would rather stay awake.” A minute later he told me: “You should not stay here with me, Dad, if that bothers you.” “It doesn't bother me.” “No, I mean, you shouldn't stay if it bothers you.” I thought that maybe he was a little raving and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock, I went out for a few minutes.
C. “What's the matter, Schatz?” "I have a headache." “You better get back to bed.” "No. Everything is fine with me." But when I went downstairs, he was dressed, sitting by the fireplace, looking very sick and unhappy boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead, I realized that he had a temperature. “Go to bed,” I said, “you are sick.” When the doctor arrived, he measured the temperature of the boy. "How many?" I asked him. "One hundred and two." Oh yeah. I heard him say one hundred and two. " “People do not die with a temperature of one hundred and two. This is a dumb way to talk. ” “I know what they are doing. At a school in France, the guys told me that you cannot live with forty-four degrees. I have one hundred and two. ” He waited for death all day, from nine in the morning. “Poor Schatz,” I said. “It's like miles and kilometers. You will not die. This is a different thermometer. Thirty-seven on this thermometer is normal. On this thermometer it's ninety-eight. ” “Oh,” he said, and slowly relaxed
My uncle skated yesterday evening.
Robert had coffee for breakfast.
I didn t have supper yesterday.
She drank a glass of juice.
Susan tried on a new blue dress.
Did you go to the cinema yesterday?
How much did money you spend last week?
He cleaned his teeth in the morning.
We didn t eat porridge for supper.
They didn t do their homework.
When did she get up yesterday?
It was cold yesterday.
I canned swim when I was five.
Did you be at school last week?
What did you do yesterday morning?
They enjoyed summer holidays.
My parents didn t be at work at the weekend.
: when I returned, they said that the boy refused to let someone into the room. “You cannot enter,” he said. “You should not get what I have.”
I went to him and found him exactly in the position in which I left him, with a white face, he looked at the other end of the bed. I measured his temperature.
"What is there?"
“Something like a hundred,” I said. It was one hundred two and four tenths. “One hundred and two,” he said.
“Who said that?”
"Doctor."
“Your temperature is all right,” I said. "Nothing to worry about."
“I'm not worried,” he said, “but I can't help but think.”
“Don't think,” I said. “Just calm down.”
“I take it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He went on about something with himself.
I sat down and opened pirated books. But I saw that he did not follow, so I stopped
"What time do you think I'll die?" - he asked.
“You are not going to die. What happened to you?"
B. At the bottom, the doctor left three different drugs in different colored capsules with instructions for use.
Returning to the room, I recorded the temperature of the guy and made a note of this time to give various capsules.
“Do you want me to read to you?”
“If you want,” the boy said. His face was very white, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He lay quietly in bed and seemed very detached from what was happening.
I read from the pirate book Howard Pile; but I saw that he did not follow what I read.
“How are you feeling, Schatz?” I asked him.
“Same,” he said, glancing across the bed and looking very strange.
“Why don't you go to sleep? I will wake you up for medicine. ”
“I would rather stay awake.”
A minute later he told me: “You should not stay here with me, Dad, if that bothers you.”
“It doesn't bother me.”
“No, I mean, you shouldn't stay if it bothers you.”
I thought that maybe he was a little raving and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock, I went out for a few minutes.
C. “What's the matter, Schatz?”
"I have a headache."
“You better get back to bed.”
"No. Everything is fine with me."
But when I went downstairs, he was dressed, sitting by the fireplace, looking very sick and unhappy boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead, I realized that he had a temperature.
“Go to bed,” I said, “you are sick.”
When the doctor arrived, he measured the temperature of the boy.
"How many?" I asked him.
"One hundred and two."
Oh yeah. I heard him say one hundred and two. "
“People do not die with a temperature of one hundred and two. This is a dumb way to talk. ”
“I know what they are doing. At a school in France, the guys told me that you cannot live with forty-four degrees. I have one hundred and two. ”
He waited for death all day, from nine in the morning.
“Poor Schatz,” I said. “It's like miles and kilometers. You will not die. This is a different thermometer. Thirty-seven on this thermometer is normal. On this thermometer it's ninety-eight. ”
“Oh,” he said, and slowly relaxed