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My neighbourhood
From : Andy
To: Sally
Hi, Sally! How are you? My new neighbourhood is great. There are lots of shops and cafes. I even have a sports shop right opposite my house! My Mum is very happy because there is a supermarket and a chemist's on out street. There is also a library next to the supermarket. I go there to read books every weekend. It is really nice here. Why don't you come and stay with me during the school holidays?
Love, Andy
1. The email is about Andy's new childhood.
2. There aren’t any libraries in the place.
3. Andy invites Sally to the sea.
4. Andy hates his new neighbourhood.
5. There is a sports shop near his house.
6. There is a furniture supermarket in the city centre.
7. Sally can stay at Andy's new house.
William Shakespeare:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.-Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.