life of pi 下载

求 《 Life of Pi》（《少年派的奇幻漂流》）的高清种子或者下载地址，谢谢了！

链接: https://pan.baidu.com/s/1CvG0IwpttPUMAymjpcB74A 提取码: y1g2 复制这段内容后打开百度网盘手机App，操作更方便哦 《少年派的奇幻漂流》是根据扬·马特尔于2001年发表的同名小说而改编的一部3D电影，由李安执导，苏拉·沙玛、拉菲·斯波、伊尔凡·可汗、阿迪尔等主演。该片于2012年11月22日在中国内地上映。影片讲述的是少年派遇到一次海难，家人全部丧生，他与一只孟加拉虎在救生小船上漂流了227天，人与虎建立起一种奇特的关系，并最终共同战胜困境获得重生。2013年，该片在第85届奥斯卡奖颁奖礼上获得了包括最佳导演。

《LifeofPi》epub下载在线阅读，求百度网盘云资源

《Life of Pi》（[英] Yann Martel）电子书网盘下载免费在线阅读资源链接：链接：https://pan.baidu.com/s/16z5dXBw55vm6VUaPKksKgg 提取码：4q7x书名：Life of Pi作者：[英] Yann Martel豆瓣评分：8.6出版社：Mariner Books出版年份：2003-5-1页数：326内容简介：◎近年来最重要、最令世界文坛惊艳的英语小说最高杰作！我是Pi，我和一只巨无霸的孟加拉虎在太平洋上的一艘救生艇『狭路相逢』，为什麼会这样？说来话长，就别提了，现在最要紧的是，我要如何对付这只叫理查•帕克的老虎？计画一：把它推下救生艇。可那有什麼用？就算推下去了，老虎也是游泳健将，而我一定会因此付出代价的。计画二：用六剂吗啡杀了它。它会乖乖的让你连续注射六支吗？不可能！我要是拿针筒戳它，它肯定会赏我一虎掌。计画三：用手边找得到的武器攻击它。神经病！我又不是泰山，如果我真能在它身上划出一道小伤口，那我倒真成了超人了。计画四：勒死它。计画五：毒死它，烧死它，电死它。哼，可真是找死的好计画！计画六：长期抗战，消耗敌人。我只需要让严厉的大自然执行它的法则，坐著等它日渐消瘦、饥渴而死，我一点力气都不用花。我心底燃起了微弱的希望之火，就如黑夜中的烛光。但是，老实说吧，告诉你一个秘密：我的心里有一部分很高兴有理查•帕克作伴。因为万一它死了，我就剩下一个人陷入深深的绝望之中，而绝望这敌人是比老虎更棘手的，所以我决定了，计画七：不能让它死！可是，在茫茫汪洋中，要如何才能驯服一头重达四百五十磅的孟加拉虎呢？作者简介：杨•马泰尔外交官之子，一九六三年出生於西班牙，幼时曾旅居哥斯大黎加、法国、墨西哥、阿拉斯加、加拿大，成年後作客伊朗、土耳其及印度。毕业於加拿大特伦特大学哲学系，其後从事各种稀奇古怪的工作，二十七岁後始以写作为生。现定居加拿大蒙特娄。

末日灾难.Its.A.Disaster.2012.BD-MP4-人人影视原创翻译中英双语字幕种子下载地址有么？好东西大家分享

末日灾难.Its.A.Disaster.2012.BD-MP4-人人影视原创翻译中英双语字幕种子下载地址：thunder://QUFodHRwOi8vYWlrYW5keS5vcmcv5pyr5pel54G+6Zq+Lkl0cy5BLkRpc2FzdGVyLjIwMTIuQkQtTVA0LeS6uuS6uuW9seinhuWOn+WIm+e/u+ivkeS4reiLseWPjOivreWtl+W5lS5tcDQ/ZmlkPTBrODFoakFPRngxVnVDb08wTm5JZnlVKmozd0FBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUEmbWlkPTY2NiZ0aHJlc2hvbGQ9MTUwJnRpZD1FNTFERDdCQzAxQTkyODJCQTc3RUMxQzNCRUIzQ0JGNyZzcmNpZD0xMjAmdmVybm89MVpa
记得采纳

跪求少年派的奇幻漂流LifeofPi(2012)由李安导演的免费百度云免费资源链接在线等

《少年派的奇幻漂流》百度网盘高清资源免费在线观看；链接: https://pan.baidu.com/s/1_-h-yVLIwwyS50LfKuGBGA 提取码：mhy4 导演: 李安编剧: 扬·马特尔 / 大卫·麦基主演: 苏拉·沙玛 / 伊尔凡·可汗 / 拉菲·斯波 / 阿迪勒·侯赛因 / 塔布 / 阿尤什·坦东 / 加塔姆·贝鲁尔 / 阿彦·汗 / 穆德·阿巴斯·卡勒里 / 维比什·希瓦库玛 / 热拉尔·德帕迪约 / 詹姆斯·塞托 / 俊·奈托 / 安德里亚·迪·斯戴法诺 / 沙拉万提·塞纳特 / 王柏杰 / 柯一正 / 黄健玮类型: 剧情 / 奇幻 / 冒险制片国家/地区: 美国 / 中国台湾 / 英国 / 加拿大语言: 英语 / 泰米尔语 / 法语 / 日语 / 印地语 / 汉语普通话上映日期: 2012-11-22(中国大陆) / 2012-09-28(纽约电影节) / 2012-11-21(美国)片长: 127分钟又名: 少年Pi的奇幻漂流 / 漂流少年Pi 故事开始于蒙特娄，也结束于蒙特娄。一名在找寻灵感的作家（拉菲·斯波 Rafe Spall 饰）无意间得知派·帕帖尔（伊尔凡·可汗 Irrfan Khan 饰）的传奇故事。派的父亲（阿迪勒·侯赛因 Adil Hussain 饰）开了一家动物园。因这样特殊的生活环境，少年派（苏拉·沙玛 Suraj Sharma 饰 ）对信仰与人的本性自有一套看法。在派17岁那一年，他的父母决定举家移民加拿大以追求更好的生活，而他也必须离开他的初恋情人。在前往加拿大的船上，他们遇见一位残忍成性的法国厨师（杰拉尔·德帕迪约 Gérard Depardieu 饰）。当天深夜在茫茫大海中，原本令派感到刺激无比的暴风雨一瞬间就成了吞噬货船的大灾难。派却奇迹般地活了下来，搭着救生船在太平洋上漂流，而且有一名最令人意想不到的同伴——理查德·帕克，一只孟加拉老虎。神奇的冒险旅程就这样意外开始了。

谁有《少年派的奇幻漂流(2012)》百度云高清资源在线观看，李安导演的？

链接: https://pan.baidu.com/s/1b6J7jmDlUTtt5aMyg2YicQ 提取码: 2bxh《少年派的奇幻漂流》是根据扬·马特尔于2001年发表的同名小说而改编的一部3D电影，由李安执导，苏拉·沙玛、拉菲·斯波、伊尔凡·可汗、阿迪尔等主演。该片于2012年11月22日在中国内地上映。影片讲述的是少年派遇到一次海难，家人全部丧生，他与一只孟加拉虎在救生小船上漂流了227天，人与虎建立起一种奇特的关系，并最终共同战胜困境获得重生。2013年，该片在第85届奥斯卡奖颁奖礼上获得了包括最佳导演、最佳视觉效果在内的四项奖项。

《少年派的奇幻漂流》的原著介绍

《少年派的奇幻漂流》的原著介绍：1、《少年派的奇幻漂流》小说内容简介本书描述一名印度男孩与成年孟加拉虎在太平洋上历时两百二十七天的生存历险故事。一艘孤单小船，一个落难少年，一只孟加拉虎，这是南太平样上，最艰难的生存考验。开始Pi想了6种置老虎于死地的方法。可最后，他才明白，在这孤独的海上，他们谁也离不开谁。理查德是令人畏惧，又逼迫人活下去的伴侣。只要理查德不饿，他就没有危险；让理查德知道谁是老大，Pi才能真正成为一个男人！ 　　Pi和老虎成了患难与共的好朋友，可是分别的这一天，却悄悄来临……小说采用开放式的结局，描绘了对于信仰、生存，乃至人与动物、人与人、人与世界的关系的展现。叙述行云流水，文字不艰涩不花哨，语言朴实且有力量。2、《少年派的奇幻漂流》小说作者简介扬·马特尔，著有畅销全球的小说《少年Pi的奇幻漂流》。该作品赢得二〇〇二年度布克奖及其他众多奖项，并由导演李安拍成电影，获得奥斯卡奖。他的其他作品包括：《赫尔辛基罗氏家族的幕后真相》（荣获加拿大“旅程奖”），长篇小说《自我》和《标本师的魔幻剧本》，以及非虚构作品《给总理的一百零一封信》。马特尔一九六三年出生于西班牙，毕业于加拿大特伦特大学哲学系，毕业后从事过植树工、洗碗工、保安等多种行业。他到世界各地游历，最终潜心写作。他目前与同为作家的伴侣艾丽丝·凯珀斯以及四个子女住在加拿大萨斯卡通市。扩展资料：电影《少年派的奇幻漂流》评价：电影《少年派的奇幻漂流》是李安导演的作品，根据扬·马特尔于2001年发表的同名小说而改编。在2013年，这部电影在第85届奥斯卡奖颁奖礼上获得了包括最佳导演、最佳视觉效果在内的四项奖项。截止到2012年12月24日，《少年派的奇幻漂流》在全球的票房已达2.35亿美元。在各个国家的票房统计中，该片在中国的票房为9030万美元，占据全球票房的比例达到了38.30%。影片通过商业与艺术的融合、具有禅意的表现手法、奇幻唯美的视觉画面、为剧情服务的3D技术等创造了惊人的奇观。人们都说电影业正在走向没落；不过像《少年派的奇幻漂流》这样的电影证明了奇迹依然在被创造。参考资料来源：百度百科-少年Pi的奇幻漂流 （扬·马特尔著长篇小说）参考资料来源：百度百科-少年派的奇幻漂流（李安执导电影）

少年派观后感英语作文带翻译

This is not just a film,it reflects(反映）our real life.It is telling
a very beautiful journey（或者adventure,冒险）of Pi,but it is not accepted by
the others
The visuals are beautiful.From the opening to the end,the water and the sky.Every sense is a beautiful picture.
s
are bright,The little boat just floating in the ocean,the sea seems has
no end.The soundtrack is very touching,and the music is great too.In
all,the film is worth watching.
有超出范围的自己改改就行了.

life of ma parker 读后感

When the literary gentleman, whose flat old Ma Parker cleaned every Tuesday, opened the door to her that morning, he asked after her grandson. Ma Parker stood on the doormat inside the dark little hall, and she stretched out her hand to help her gentleman shut the door before she replied. "We buried 'im yesterday, sir," she said quietly.

"Oh, dear me! I'm sorry to hear that," said the literary gentleman in a shocked tone. He was in the middle of his breakfast. He wore a very shabby dressing-gown and carried a crumpled newspaper in one hand. But he felt awkward. He could hardly go back to the warm sitting-room without saying something--something more. Then because these people set such store by funerals he said kindly, "I hope the funeral went off all right."

"Beg parding, sir?" said old Ma Parker huskily.

Poor old bird! She did look dashed. "I hope the funeral was a--a-- success," said he. Ma Parker gave no answer. She bent her head and hobbled off to the kitchen, clasping the old fish bag that held her cleaning things and an apron and a pair of felt shoes. The literary gentleman raised his eyebrows and went back to his breakfast.

"Overcome, I suppose," he said aloud, helping himself to the marmalade.

Ma Parker drew the two jetty spears out of her toque and hung it behind the door. She unhooked her worn jacket and hung that up too. Then she tied her apron and sat down to take off her boots. To take off her boots or to put them on was an agony to her, but it had been an agony for years. In fact, she was so accustomed to the pain that her face was drawn and screwed up ready for the twinge before she'd so much as untied the laces. That over, she sat back with a sigh and softly rubbed her knees...

"Gran! Gran!" Her little grandson stood on her lap in his button boots. He'd just come in from playing in the street.

"Look what a state you've made your gran's skirt into--you wicked boy!"

But he put his arms round her neck and rubbed his cheek against hers.

"Gran, gi' us a penny!" he coaxed.

"Be off with you; Gran ain't got no pennies."

"Yes, you 'ave."

"No, I ain't."

"Yes, you 'ave. Gi' us one!"

Already she was feeling for the old, squashed, black leather purse.

"Well, what'll you give your gran?"

He gave a shy little laugh and pressed closer. She felt his eyelid quivering against her cheek. "I ain't got nothing," he murmured...

The old woman sprang up, seized the iron kettle off the gas stove and took it over to the sink. The noise of the water drumming in the kettle deadened her pain, it seemed. She filled the pail, too, and the washing-up bowl.

It would take a whole book to describe the state of that kitchen. During the week the literary gentleman "did" for himself. That is to say, he emptied the tea leaves now and again into a jam jar set aside for that purpose, and if he ran out of clean forks he wiped over one or two on the roller towel. Otherwise, as he explained to his friends, his "system" was quite simple, and he couldn't understand why people made all this fuss about housekeeping.

"You simply dirty everything you've got, get a hag in once a week to clean up, and the thing's done."

The result looked like a gigantic dustbin. Even the floor was littered with toast crusts, envelopes, cigarette ends. But Ma Parker bore him no grudge. She pitied the poor young gentleman for having no one to look after him. Out of the smudgy little window you could see an immense expanse of sad-looking sky, and whenever there were clouds they looked very worn, old clouds, frayed at the edges, with holes in them, or dark stains like tea.

While the water was heating, Ma Parker began sweeping the floor. "Yes," she thought, as the broom knocked, "what with one thing and another I've had my share. I've had a hard life."

Even the neighbours said that of her. Many a time, hobbling home with her fish bag she heard them, waiting at the corner, or leaning over the area railings, say among themselves, "She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker." And it was so true she wasn't in the least proud of it. It was just as if you were to say she lived in the basement-back at Number 27. A hard life!...

At sixteen she'd left Stratford and come up to London as kitching-maid. Yes, she was born in Stratford-on-Avon. Shakespeare, sir? No, people were always arsking her about him. But she'd never heard his name until she saw it on the theatres.

Nothing remained of Stratford except that "sitting in the fire-place of a evening you could see the stars through the chimley," and "Mother always 'ad 'er side of bacon, 'anging from the ceiling." And there was something- -a bush, there was--at the front door, that smelt ever so nice. But the bush was very vague. She'd only remembered it once or twice in the hospital, when she'd been taken bad.

That was a dreadful place--her first place. She was never allowed out. She never went upstairs except for prayers morning and evening. It was a fair cellar. And the cook was a cruel woman. She used to snatch away her letters from home before she'd read them, and throw them in the range because they made her dreamy...And the beedles! Would you believe it?-- until she came to London she'd never seen a black beedle. Here Ma always gave a little laugh, as though--not to have seen a black beedle! Well! It was as if to say you'd never seen your own feet.

When that family was sold up she went as "help" to a doctor's house, and after two years there, on the run from morning till night, she married her husband. He was a baker.

"A baker, Mrs. Parker!" the literary gentleman would say. For occasionally he laid aside his tomes and lent an ear, at least, to this product called Life. "It must be rather nice to be married to a baker!"

Mrs. Parker didn't look so sure.

"Such a clean trade," said the gentleman.

Mrs. Parker didn't look convinced.

"And didn't you like handing the new loaves to the customers?"

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Parker, "I wasn't in the shop above a great deal. We had thirteen little ones and buried seven of them. If it wasn't the 'ospital it was the infirmary, you might say!"

"You might, indeed, Mrs. Parker!" said the gentleman, shuddering, and taking up his pen again.

Yes, seven had gone, and while the six were still small her husband was taken ill with consumption. It was flour on the lungs, the doctor told her at the time...Her husband sat up in bed with his shirt pulled over his head, and the doctor's finger drew a circle on his back.

"Now, if we were to cut him open here, Mrs. Parker," said the doctor, "you'd find his lungs chock-a-block with white powder. Breathe, my good fellow!" And Mrs. Parker never knew for certain whether she saw or whether she fancied she saw a great fan of white dust come out of her poor dead husband's lips...

But the struggle she'd had to bring up those six little children and keep herself to herself. Terrible it had been! Then, just when they were old enough to go to school her husband's sister came to stop with them to help things along, and she hadn't been there more than two months when she fell down a flight of steps and hurt her spine. And for five years Ma Parker had another baby--and such a one for crying!--to look after. Then young Maudie went wrong and took her sister Alice with her; the two boys emigrimated, and young Jim went to India with the army, and Ethel, the youngest, married a good-for-nothing little waiter who died of ulcers the year little Lennie was born. And now little Lennie--my grandson...

The piles of dirty cups, dirty dishes, were washed and dried. The ink- black knives were cleaned with a piece of potato and finished off with a piece of cork. The table was scrubbed, and the dresser and the sink that had sardine tails swimming in it...

He'd never been a strong child--never from the first. He'd been one of those fair babies that everybody took for a girl. Silvery fair curls he had, blue eyes, and a little freckle like a diamond on one side of his nose. The trouble she and Ethel had had to rear that child! The things out of the newspapers they tried him with! Every Sunday morning Ethel would read aloud while Ma Parker did her washing.

"Dear Sir,--Just a line to let you know my little Myrtil was laid out for dead...After four bottils...gained 8 lbs. in 9 weeks, and is still putting it on."

And then the egg-cup of ink would come off the dresser and the letter would be written, and Ma would buy a postal order on her way to work next morning. But it was no use. Nothing made little Lennie put it on. Taking him to the cemetery, even, never gave him a colour; a nice shake-up in the bus never improved his appetite.

But he was gran's boy from the first...

"Whose boy are you?" said old Ma Parker, straightening up from the stove and going over to the smudgy window. And a little voice, so warm, so close, it half stifled her--it seemed to be in her breast under her heart-- laughed out, and said, "I'm gran's boy!"

At that moment there was a sound of steps, and the literary gentleman appeared, dressed for walking.

"Oh, Mrs. Parker, I'm going out."

"Very good, sir."

"And you'll find your half-crown in the tray of the inkstand."

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Parker," said the literary gentleman quickly, "you didn't throw away any cocoa last time you were here--did you?"

"No, sir." "Very strange. I could have sworn I left a teaspoonful of cocoa in the tin." He broke off. He said softly and firmly, "You'll always tell me when you throw things away--won't you, Mrs. Parker?" And he walked off very well pleased with himself, convinced, in fact, he'd shown Mrs. Parker that under his apparent carelessness he was as vigilant as a woman.

The door banged. She took her brushes and cloths into the bedroom. But when she began to make the bed, smoothing, tucking, patting, the thought of little Lennie was unbearable. Why did he have to suffer so? That's what she couldn't understand. Why should a little angel child have to arsk for his breath and fight for it? There was no sense in making a child suffer like that.

...From Lennie's little box of a chest there came a sound as though something was boiling. There was a great lump of something bubbling in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. When he coughed the sweat sprang out on his head; his eyes bulged, his hands waved, and the great lump bubbled as a potato knocks in a saucepan. But what was more awful than all was when he didn't cough he sat against the pillow and never spoke or answered, or even made as if he heard. Only he looked offended.

"It's not your poor old gran's doing it, my lovey," said old Ma Parker, patting back the damp hair from his little scarlet ears. But Lennie moved his head and edged away. Dreadfully offended with her he looked--and solemn. He bent his head and looked at her sideways as though he couldn't have believed it of his gran.

But at the last...Ma Parker threw the counterpane over the bed. No, she simply couldn't think about it. It was too much--she'd had too much in her life to bear. She'd borne it up till now, she'd kept herself to herself, and never once had she been seen to cry. Never by a living soul. Not even her own children had seen Ma break down. She'd kept a proud face always. But now! Lennie gone--what had she? She had nothing. He was all she'd got from life, and now he was took too. Why must it all have happened to me? she wondered. "What have I done?" said old Ma Parker. "What have I done?"

As she said those words she suddenly let fall her brush. She found herself in the kitchen. Her misery was so terrible that she pinned on her hat, put on her jacket and walked out of the flat like a person in a dream. She did not know what she was doing. She was like a person so dazed by the horror of what has happened that he walks away--anywhere, as though by walking away he could escape...

It was cold in the street. There was a wind like ice. People went flitting by, very fast; the men walked like scissors; the women trod like cats. And nobody knew--nobody cared. Even if she broke down, if at last, after all these years, she were to cry, she'd find herself in the lock-up as like as not.

But at the thought of crying it was as though little Lennie leapt in his gran's arms. Ah, that's what she wants to do, my dove. Gran wants to cry. If she could only cry now, cry for a long time, over everything, beginning with her first place and the cruel cook, going on to the doctor's, and then the seven little ones, death of her husband, the children's leaving her, and all the years of misery that led up to Lennie. But to have a proper cry over all these things would take a long time. All the same, the time for it had come. She must do it. She couldn't put it off any longer; she couldn't wait any more...Where could she go?

"She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker." Yes, a hard life, indeed! Her chin began to tremble; there was no time to lose. But where? Where?

She couldn't go home; Ethel was there. It would frighten Ethel out of her life. She couldn't sit on a bench anywhere; people would come arsking her questions. She couldn't possibly go back to the gentleman's flat; she had no right to cry in strangers' houses. If she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her.

Oh, wasn't there anywhere where she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying her? Wasn't there anywhere in the world where she could have her cry out-- at last?

Ma Parker stood, looking up and down. The icy wind blew out her apron into a balloon. And now it began to rain. There was nowhere.