我的心靈藏書館：茶花女全英文原版名著軟精裝珍藏版 [The Lady of the Camelias] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书下载 2025

☆☆☆☆☆

[法] A·小仲馬（Dumas Fils A.）著，彭萍編，鬍婷婷注

圖書標籤:

經典文學
法國文學
浪漫主義
愛情小說
悲劇
名著
外文原版
茶花女
亞曆山大· Dumas (fils)
軟精裝

下载链接在页面底部

facebook linkedin mastodon messenger pinterest reddit telegram twitter viber vkontakte whatsapp 复制链接

想要找书就要到求知書站

tushu.tinynews.org

立刻按 ctrl+D收藏本页

你会得到大惊喜!!

出版社：中国宇航出版社

ISBN：9787515901152

版次：1

商品编码：10914375

包装：软精装

丛书名：我的心灵藏书馆

外文名称：The Lady of the Camelias

开本：32开

出版时间：2012-01-01

用纸：胶版纸

页数：302

正文语种：英文

具体描述

産品特色

編輯推薦

　　國際攝影大師邁剋爾·弗裏曼又一力作，作為首部講解攝影“想法”與“創意”的圖書，榮獲“色影無忌2012年度編輯推薦奬”
　　《攝影師的思想：邁剋爾·弗裏曼攝影構思與創作》是《攝影師的視界》等多部超級暢銷攝影書的作者的首部講解攝影“想法”與“創意”的圖書
　　作者在中國市場已積纍較高人氣與知名度，深受廣大攝影愛好者追捧
　　綜閤拍攝技法、攝影美學風格及攝影創作潮流講解，旨在提高讀者攝影創作水準

海報：

內容簡介

　　任何影像均源自攝影師對被攝對象的認知、思考與再錶達。攝影師的思想主導瞭影像最終呈現在觀者麵前的狀態。沒有思想，影像就失去力量。《攝影師的思想——邁剋爾·弗裏曼攝影構思與創作》是知名攝影師邁剋爾·弗裏曼繼超級暢銷書《攝影師的視界》之後的又一力作。承繼前書對攝影構圖與設計的討論，《攝影師的思想——邁剋爾·弗裏曼攝影構思與創作》對攝影的構思、審美與創作思路作齣更深層次的探究，為讀者從根本上揭開優秀攝影作品的秘密。
　　《攝影師的思想：邁剋爾·弗裏曼攝影構思與創作》共分為三章，第一章闡述瞭攝影的視覺屬性，論述瞭關於拍攝對象、攝影題材、攝影角度、攝影審美以及影像意義等方麵的話題。第二章針對攝影風格、攝影構圖以及視覺元素展開討論。第三章旨在引導讀者進行有意義的攝影創作與實踐，通過獨特的創作思路和切入角度獲得理想的攝影作品。
　　《攝影師的思想：邁剋爾·弗裏曼攝影構思與創作》適閤攝影愛好者、攝影師、影像藝術傢、媒體人員等閱讀，亦適閤藝術專業學生和教師作為研究於教學之用。
　　

作者簡介

　　小仲馬的全名為亞曆山大·仲馬（Alexandre Dumas，1824-1895），是19世紀法國著名小說傢、戲劇傢，是作傢大仲馬與一名窮苦女工的私生子。小仲馬7歲時大仲馬纔認其為子，但仍拒不認其母為妻。私生子的身世使小仲馬在童年和少年時代受盡世人的譏誚。這種痛苦境遇對他的一生産生瞭深刻影響，使他後來的文學創作大多以探討社會道德問題為主題，在作品中大力宣揚傢庭及婚姻的神聖。

精彩書摘

　　Illness like the one to which Armand had succumbed have at least this much to be said for them：they either kill you at once or let them selves be conquered very quickly.　　A fortnight after the events which I have just recounted，Armand was convalescing very satisfactorily， and we were bound by a firm friend ship.I had scarcely left his sick room throughout the whole time of his illness.　　Spring had dispensed its flowers ，leaves，birds，and harmomes mabundance，and my friend's window cheerfully overlooked his garden which wafted its healthy draughts up to him.　　The doctor had allowed him to get up，and we often sat talking by the open window at that hour of the day when the sun is at it swarmest，between noon and two o'clock.I studiously avoided speaking to him of Marguerite，for I was still a fraid that the name would reawaken some sad memory which slumbered beneath the sick man's apparent calm. But Armand，on the contrary，seemed to take pleasure in speaking of her-not as he had done previously，with tears in his eyes，but with a gentle smile whichallayed my fears for his state of mind.I had noticed that， since his last visit to the cemetery and thespectacle which had been responsible for causing his seriousbreakdown，the measure of his mental anguish seemed to have been taken by his physical illness， and Marguerite's death had ceased to present itself through the eyes of the past.A kind of solace had come with the certainty he had acquired and，to drive off the somber image which often thrust itself into his mind，he plunged into the happier memories of his affair with Marguerite and appeared willing to recall no others.His body was too exhausted by his attack of fever，and even by it streat ment，to allow his mind to acknowledge any violent emotions，and despite himself the universal joy of spring by which Armand was surrounded directed his thoughts to happier images.All this time，he had stubbornly refused to inform his family of the peril he was in，and when the danger was past，his father still knew nothing of his illness.One evening，we had remained longer by the window than usual.The weather had been superb and the sun was setting in a brilliant twilight of blue and gold. Although we were in Paris， the greenery around us seemed to cut us off from the world，and only the rare sound of a passing carriage from time to time disturbed our conversation.　　"It was about this time of year，and during the evening of a day like today，that I first met Marguerite，" said Armand， heedingo his own thoughts rather than what I was saying.　　I made no reply.　　Then he turned to me and said：　　"But I must tell you the story， you shall turn it into a book which no one will believe，though it may be interesting to write. "　　" You shall tell it to me some other time，my friend，" I told him， "you are still not well enough. "　　"The evening is warm，I have eaten my breast of chicken，" he said with a snule; "I am not the least feverish~，we have nothing else to do，I shall tell you everything. "　　" Since you are so set on it，I'll listen. "　　"It's a very simple tale，" he then added，" and I shall tell it in the　　order in which it happened. If at some stage you do make something of it，you are perfectly free to tell it another way. "　　Here is what he told me，and I have scarcely changed a word of his moving story.　　Yes（Armand went on，letting his head fall against the back of his armchair），yes，it was on an evening like this ！ I had spent the day in the country with one of my friends，Gaston R. We had returned toParis in the evening and，for want of anything better to do，had gone to the Theatre des Varietes.　　During one of the intervals，we left our seats and，in the comdor，we saw a tall woman whom my friend greeted with a bow.　　"Who was that you just bowed to？" I asked him.　　"Marguerite Gautier，" he replied.　　"It strikes me she is very much changed，for I didn't recognizeher，" I said with a tremor which you will understand in a moment.　　" She's been ill. The poor girl's not long for this world. "　　I recall these words as though they had been said to me yesterday.　　Now，my friend，l must tell you that for two years past，when ever I met her，the sight of that girl had always made a strange impressionon me.　　Without knowing why，l paled and my heart beat violently. Ihave a friend who dabbles in the occult，and he would call what I felt an aff inity of fluids; I myself believe quite simply that I wasdestined to fall in love with Marguerite， and that this was apresentiment.　　The fact remains that she made a strong impression on me. Several of my friends had seen how I reacted， and they had hooted with laughter when they realized from what quarter~ that impression came.　　……