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longjail Noobie
Joined: 22 Jun 2009 Posts: 5
The wolf then charged at the man
Once upon a time the fox was talking to the wolf about the strength of man, how no animal could withstand him, and how all were obliged to employ cunning in order to protect themselves from him.
The wolf answered, last chaos gold, "If I could see a man just once, I would attack him nonetheless."
"I can help you to do that," said the fox. "Come to me early tomorrow morning, and I will show you one."
The wolf arrived on time, and the fox took him out to the path which the huntsman used every day. First an old discharged soldier came by.
Finally a huntsman came by with his double-barreled gun on his back, and a sword at his side.
The fox said to the wolf, "Look, there comes a man. He is the one you must attack, but I am going back to my den."
The wolf then charged at the man.
When the huntsman saw him he said, last chaos gold,"Too bad that I have not loaded with a bullet." Then he aimed and fired a load of shot into his face.
The wolf pulled an awful face, but did not let himself be frightened, and attacked him again, on which the huntsman gave him the second barrel. The wolf swallowed his pain and charged at the huntsman again, who in turn drew out his naked sword, and gave him a few blows with it left and right, so that, bleeding all over, he ran howling back to the fox.
"Well," Brother Wolf, said the fox, "how did you get along with man?"
"Oh," replied the wolf, "I never imagined the strength of man to be what it is. First, he took a stick from his shoulder, and blew into it, last chaos money,and then something flew into my face which tickled me terribly. Then he breathed once more into the stick, and it flew up my nose like lightning and hail. Then when I got next to him, he drew a naked rib out of his body, and he beat me so with it that he almost killed me."
"See what a braggart you are," said the fox. "You throw your hatchet so far that you cannot get it back again."
Mon Jun 22, 2009 7:07 am
caoxueer1r Noobie
Joined: 07 Aug 2009 Posts: 5
The 2008 Olympic Game has been the most cheerful and anticipated event throughout Beijing ever since
Beijing was rewarded the right to host the 2008 Summer Olympic Games, yet the focus should be shifted
from making a promise to fulfilling the promise made.
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In my point of view, to bridge the gap between the promise and reality, Beijing still has a long
way to go. To begin with, infrastructure construction should be the primary concern. Such
infrastructures as communications and transportation system and facilities ought to draw our constant
attention. First, traffic jam has been an ageold headache in Beijing. The scene of long queues of
vehicles worming their way inch by inch will surely cause great incontinence, and blemish the image of
the city meanwhile. Next, to add enchantment to convenience, overall cityplanning is indispensable.
Time permitting, a redesign of city layout and adjustment of architectural style would provide a
better environment for fostering the characteristic, blending, oriental elegance with international
In order to broaden the streets, some trees may have to be cut. Near the construction site, the tiny
dust may linger in the air for a long time. Reduction of farmland may be caused by the need of setting
up new sports centre or accommodation facilities. These environmental consequences can be especially
serious in a resource-limited and densely-populated city in a third-world country.
New Beijing, Great Olympics
Fri Aug 07, 2009 6:04 am
sunshine Noobie
Joined: 26 Aug 2009 Posts: 5
... You see that big nail to the right of the front door? I can scarcely look at it even now and yet I could not bear to take it out. I should like to think it was there always even after my time. I sometimes hear the next people saying, “There must have been a cage hanging from there.” And it comforts me. I feel he is not quite forgotten. (lotro gold)
... You cannot imagine how wonderfully he sang. It was not like the singing of other canaries. And that isn't just my fancy. Often, from the window I used to see people stop at the gate to listen, or they would lean over the fence by the mock-orange2) for quite a long time — carried away. I suppose it sounds absurd to you — it wouldn't if you had heard him — but it really seemed to me he sang whole songs, with a beginning and an end to them.
For instance, when I finished the house in the afternoon, and changed my blouse and brought my sewing on the verandah3) here, he used to hop, hop, hop from one perch4) to the other, tap against the bars as if to attract my attention, sip a little water, just as a professional singer might, and then break into a song so exquisite5) that I had to put my needle down to listen to him. I can't describe it; I wish I could. But it was always the same, every afternoon, and I felt that I understood every note of it. wow power leveling
... I loved him. How I loved him! Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must! Of course there was always my little house and the garden, but for some reason they were never enough. Flowers respond wonderfully, but they don't sympathize. Then I loved the evening star. Does that sound ridiculous? I used to go into the backyard, after sunset, and wait for it until it shone above the dark gum tree. I used to whisper, “There you are, my darling.” And just in that first moment it seemed to be shining for me alone. It seemed to understand this... something which is like longing, and yet it is not longing. Or regret — it is more like regret. And yet regret for what? I have much to be thankful for!
... But after he came into my life I forgot the evening star; I did not need it any more. But it was strange. When the Chinaman who came to the door with birds to sell held him up in his tiny cage, and instead of fluttering6), fluttering, like the poor little goldfinches7), he gave a faint, small chirp8). I found myself saying, just as I had said to the star over the gum tree, “There your are, my darling.” From that moment he was mine! wow gold
... It surprises even me now to remember how he and I shared each other's lives. The moment I came down in the morning and took the cloth off his cage he greeted me with a drowsy9) little note. I knew it meant “Missus10)! Missus!” Then I hung him on the nail outside while I got my three young men their breakfasts, and I never brought him in, to do his cage, until we had the house to ourselves again. Then, when the washing-up was done, it was quite a little entertainment. I spread a newspaper over a corner of the table and when I put the cage on it he used to beat with his wings, despairingly, as if he didn't know what was coming. “You're a regular little actor,” I used to scold him. I scraped, dusted it with fresh sand, filled his seed and water tins, tucked a piece of chickweed11) and half a chili12) between the bars. And I am perfectly certain he understood and appreciated every item of this little performance. You see by nature he was exquisitely neat. There was never a speck13) on his perch. And you'd only to see him enjoy his bath to realise he had a real small passion for cleanliness. His bath was put in last. And themoment it was in he positively leapt into it. First he fluttered one wing, then the other, then he ducked his head and dabbled14) his breast feathers. Drops of water were scattered all over the kitchen, but still he would not get out. I used to say to him, “Now that's quite enough. You're only showing off.” And at last out he hopped and standing on one leg he began to peck himself dry. Finally he gave a shake, a flick15), a twitter16) and he lifted his throat — Oh, I can hardly bear to recall it. I was always cleaning the knives by then. And it almost seemed to me the knives sang too, as I rubbed them bright on the board. (wow gold)
... Company, you see, that was what he was. Perfect company. If you have lived alone you will realize how precious that is. Of course there were my three young men who came in to supper every evening, and sometimes they stayed in the dining-room afterwards reading the paper. But I could not expect them to be interested in the little things that made my day. Why should they be? I was nothing to them. In fact, I overheard them one evening talking about me on the stairs as “the Scarecrow17)”. No matter. It doesn't matter. Not in the least. I quite understand. They are young. Why should I mind? But I remember feeling so especially thankful that I was not quite alone that evening. I told him, after they had gone. I said, “Do you know what they call Missus?” And he put his head on one side and looked at me with his little bright eye until I could not help laughing. It seemed to amuse him.
... Have you kept birds? If you haven't, all this must sound, perhaps, exaggerated. People have the idea that birds are heartless, cold little creatures, not like dogs or cats. My washerwoman used to say every Monday when she wondered why I didn't keep “a nice fox terrier”, “There's no comfort, Miss, in a canary.” Untrue! Dreadfully untrue! I remember one night. I had had a very awful dream — dreams can be terribly cruel — even after I had woken up I could not get over it. So I put on my dressing-gown and came down to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was a winter night and raining hard. I suppose I was half asleep still, but through the kitchen window that hadn't a blind, it seemed to me the dark was staring in, spying. And suddenly I felt it was unbearable that I had no one to whom I could say, “I've had such a dreadful dream,” or — “Hide me from the dark.” I even covered my face for a minute. And then there came a little“Sweet! Sweet!” His cage was on the table, and the cloth had slipped so that a chink18) of light shone through. “Sweet! Sweet!” said the darling little fellow again, softly, as much as to say, “I'm here, Missus. I'm here!” That was so beautifully comforting that I nearly cried. (world of warcraft power leveling)
... And now he's gone. I shall never have another bird, another pet of any kind. How could I? When I found him, lying on his back, with his eye dim and his claws wrung, when I realised that never again should I hear my darling sing, something seemed to die in me. My breast felt hollow, as if it was his cage. I shall get over it. Of course. I must. One can get over anything in time. And people always say I have a cheerful disposition. They are quite right. I thank God I have.
... All the same, without being morbid19), or giving way to — to memories and so on, I must confess that there does seem to me something sad in life. It is hard to say what it is. I don't mean the sorrow that we all know, like illness and poverty and death. No, it is something different. It is there, deep down, deep down, part of one, like one's breathing. However hard I work and tire myself I have only to stop to know it is there, waiting. I often wonder if everybody feels the same. One can never know. But isn't it extraordinary that under his sweet, joyful little singing it was just this — sadness? — Ah, what is it? — that I heard.
Wed Aug 26, 2009 5:40 am
xinshangl Noobie
Joined: 21 Dec 2009 Posts: 5
In terms of deaths caused by various forms of cancer, lung cancer ranks second only to Breast Cancer. The National Cancer Institute recently reported that an estimated 172,570 new cases of lung cancer will be reported this year and that 163,510 American will die from this disease.
Lung cancer is caused predominantly by smoking. One expert says that in the case of Small Cell Lung Carcinoma (cancer), it is almost always caused by smoking.
Lung cancer is called lung cancer because it begins in the lungs. The right lung has three sections, the left lung has two. Each section is called a lobe. Sometimes the term "bronchogenic cancer" is used to refer to lung cancer as most lung cancers begin in one of the two breathing tubes, the bronchi, in the lungs.
There are two major types of lung cancer. One is the Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC) mentioned in the previous paragraph. The other is Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer (NSCLC).
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Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer has three subtypes: Adenocarcinoma, Squamous Cell Carcinoma and Large Cell Undifferentiated Carcinoma. NSCLC is the least "serious" of the two types. In fact, if it is detected early, it is possible that it can be cured with surgery.
Andenocarcinoma accounts for about 40 percent of lung cancer cases in the U.S. It is the most common cancer among women and can be seen in non-smokers. Squamous Cell Carcinoma represents about 30 to 35 percent of lung cancers and tends to stay localized in the chest longer than other types of lung cancer. Large Cell Undifferentiated Carcinoma represents only about five to 15 percent of lung cancers in the U.S. The incidence of this type of cancer seems to be decreasing.
The worst and most aggressive form of lung cancer is Small Cell Lung Cancer. It represents only about 15 to 20 percent of all lung cancers. It spreads to the lymph nodes and other organs more quickly than NSCLC, but seems more responsive to chemotherapy drugs.
Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer is described in stages - Stage I through IV. WebMD recently reports survival rates of NSCLC as:
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Stage 1A or 1B with no lymph node involvement has a five-year survival rate of 43 to 64 percent when treated with surgery.
Stage IIA or IIB with a single lymph node involvement, when treated with surgery, has a five-year survival rate of 20 to 40 percent.
Stage IIIA with a single lymph node involvement in the center of the chest, when treated with surgery has a five-year survival rate of 15 to 25 percent.
Stage IIIB with lymph node involvement in the chest and neck, when treated with radiation without other treatment, has a five-year survival rate of five to seven percent.
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Stage IIIB with lymph node involvement in the chest and neck, when treated with radiation and chemotherapy, has a five-year survival rate between seven and 17 percent.
Stage IV with extensive lymph node involvement or cancer that has spread to other organs, hen treated with chemotherapy and palliative care to reduce symptoms and increase comfort has a one-year survival rate.
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The prognosis is much bleaker for patients with Small Cell Lung Cancer. This form of cancer is found in two stages: limited or extensive. The limited version is that which is found in only one lung and nearby lymph nodes. The extensive type has spread outside the lung to other parts of the chest or body (metastasized). Limited SCLC when treated with chemotherapy and radiation therapy has an average survival time of 18 to 20 months. The extensive form of SCLC when treated with chemotherapy has a survival time of 10 to 12 months. Ttwo-year survival rate is one to three percent, and the five-year survival rate less than two percent.
The majority of people diagnosed with SCLC will die despite the best available treatment.
While surgery plays the most important part in the treatment of Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer, chemotherapy is always the chosen treatment for Small Cell Lung Cancer. In the case of limited stage SCLC, radiation therapy may also be used as the cancer is still localized to the chest area where radiation can be focused.
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Small Cell Cancer Cells are so small they cannot be seen on scans. Even in the case of limited stage SCLC, it is possible for some cells to break away from the primary cancer and migrate to anywhere in the body. For this reason, chemotherapy is the preferred treatment as it treats the whole body, unlike radiation therapy which must be focused on a selected area. In act, chemotherapy is the preferred treatment for both limited and extensive stage Small Cell Lung Cancer.
The Bad and the Worse
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