For Sanji. All his features are what I appreciate, such as, his blond
hair, his costume, hair style, smoking, good cooking skill, and the like
.His clothing, at first, will render people a misleading impression that
he is a gentleman. However, he is a real libertine and he always can't
help staring at beautiful women .As soon as he sees pretty young ladies
he will immediately come up and address them with high compliment. But I
still think he is cool, not the kind of Zoro's style. Zoro sometimes
brings a cold feeling to me, while Sanji are liable to give me a
pleasant and warm sensation .He is such an disingenuous man that he
frequently pretends to be strong outside, actually he is tender inward
with a delicate heart, which can be spotted when he left the restaurant
on the sea .He shed tears when Jiji asked he to take good care of
himself. This scene also moved me. When he makes his mind to seek the
all blue and join in Luffy's group, it is really exciting .I am looking
forwarding what will happen in their voyage.
From episode 33: I realize that Luffy is a determined man-----as long as he sets his mind to do something, he will accomplish it. Therefore, I hold firmly that he will find ONE PIECE. There are some precious qualities with Luffy which I admire extremely, such as he has his own judgment, his trust in his friends, his benevolence, and the like. Once he made his conclusion, others’suggestion can’t be accepted. It appears he is a bit ego at first, however, as the plot goes, I find most of his decisions are right and I begin to be one of his followers , like Zoro who takes stock in Luffy completely and recognizes him as captain. Naïve as Luffy appears to be outside, he is smart when judging from true or false. When he was told Nami has betrayed them, he even didn’t listen to the explanation, because he has faith in her. Sanji is also something like Luffy, at times, what he thinks is different from what he represents.
From episode 86: When Chopper first appeared in my sight, my impression was that: how lovely the reindeer is, so cute, and I am fond of him. I didn’t feel anything weird about him and didn’t realize he has a blue nose until people mentioned it. What I thought about his appearance was the color of his clothing fitted well with his pink hat and blue nose. Nothing was discordant. Just like a little child, he appeared to be a bit shy and unable to control his temper well. Then the story between Doctor and Chopper began. Kind as Doctor, no one in the country could understand him. The same experience shared by Doctor and Chopper connected them together. Doctor treated Chopper as his son and they lived a happy life before Doctor’s death. Although Doctor died, his spirit will last forever, for Chopper will succeed the spirit. As long as someone remembers him, he is still alive in the world.
From episode 148:Zoro showed his trust to Luffy once again. They are beaten by Bellamy's group but didn't fight back. At first, I was very confused about the motivation of such reactions. Then there came the flashbacks of Shanks and Ace, who were treated as Luffy’s aim. That made me gets their intention. Another important person appeared in this episode---Marshall D Teach. He commented this battle that Luffy's group was the winner and said something sounded very reasonable. I thought he would be Luffy's friends and do them a favor when they were in trouble later. However, as plot developed, it proved I was wrong.
From episode 210: Chopper was chosen by Foxy because Luffy’s group lost in the game. Chopper was so cute that I can’t help smiling when he was crying, but there were also some worries. The sight of his tears made my heart ache, but I deeply believed Luffy would bring Chopper back, just as they all had faith in him. Chopper looks like a child and actually he is, which make us give more care to him. He often cried for some little thing and as timid as Usopp, but I can tell his adamancy in his heart.
No.1 a group of young waifs
It’s right after they—a group of young waifs robbed a rich old man. They were taking a luxurious carriage, sitting there singing loudly and with great emotion. When I saw this in the movie, it reminded me about my crazy time after I passed the final exam to attend a high school. We went shopping and had a great time there in the mall, watching movies cheering for all we’ve done for these days. We didn’t go home until late in the midnight that day. It was dark and a little bit cold, freeze kissing our faces sweetly. We caught the last subway and then, we danced and sang in there. It reminded me that they were still kids, no matter what they did before and in order to get money to go home no matter how they got that money. Deep inside their hearts, there were still something soft and warm, with strong hope and stubborn belief. Probably they were kind of unruly, they were full of sunshine. They still had strength to struggle in the reality. That piece of image really shocked me.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination.
We are taught that to fight is almost always the best way to go through troubles, but indeed we have to say that most of the time the results for anybody are nearly the same. The only difference at this point is you’ll achieve more than others. It’s impossible to refuse the reality. In life, everyone, in the end has been taught to accept the darkness of this world.
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn’t be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
He sold drug for Barbar, stole money of Krishna’s and finally died because he overate the drugs and the disease in his lung. He was Chillum, one of many Chillums. He’s tried and struggled against his disease and eager for drugs so much that he almost killed himself by hitting the train. But he failed. He stole Krishna’s money and drunk again. No matter how hard he tried, in the end he still couldn’t change his life. But for Barbar, he was not important and not worthy feeling pity for at all. He was just one of the many Chillums in this world. One Chillum fell down, many would stand up. Just like what he showed in the movie. After his death, there was another person took his place called Chillum who drank drugs, worked for Barbar and stole Krishna’s money. It seemed that all got back to the beginning. Someone achieved something in their own way, and didn’t even see the ending directly to their death.
The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
No.2 sweet sixteen
There is one picture of her from two different situations remaining in my mind. In the picture there was a young girl sitting in the car, watching out from the window. When she first came here to the bordello, she was in the car watching outside with curiosity and fear. From her clear and scared eyes full of water, I saw her innocence and chasteness as a girl of sixteen who haven’t seen this whole world—the world of darkness and lies. But in the end it’s also her sitting in the car, watching outside from the back window of the car, with sadness and disbelief. Once she felt she would leave the bordello because of the love of Barbar, but she was wrong. When Krishna went back from the prison and tried to get her out of the bordello, she refused. He saw her dressing up and showing him the picture of Barbar and her. She was only sixteen, she came to this place for awhile and then she went back in the same car. Nothing really changed during this time, but she was not sixteen any more, and she was not sweet any longer. That’s what she lost, and what she desired, in this wheel of life. And that’s her life which she couldn’t change.
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
It’s all about growing up, all about struggling, all about darkness and
all about the wheel of our life.
Everyone in this movie is or was struggling to the reality, but in the end, they’ve all compromised to it.
“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”
After the whole movie, there’s only one thing about her remaining in my mind that is she was crying in the prison when she saw her daughter there. Probably she did something wrong and bad for this society before, and probably it’s not convenient to have a daughter with her to be a prostitute, but if she lost her, all seemed meaningless then. In the end she wanted to give up this job. From her I’ve seen the true love of a mother like when she was dancing with her daughter and Krishna, and the darkness and resignation to be a prostitute.
“So?” snapped Mrs. Dursley.
澳门微尼斯人手机版，I’m so moved by his stubborn and the spirit of “never give up” at first. He wanted to go home so he had to get enough money for the ticket of the train. Whenever he got enough money already, something happened so that he couldn’t really get that in the end. But he didn’t say anything, not even cried. He had a golden heart. When he first saw the sweet sixteen, he decided to save her from the bordello so he played a fire. He was caught by polis just because of Manju. He was bullied in the prison because he wanted to help another kid which was kind of weak there. And in the end he left Barbar because he saved Rekha. But things were not good for him. He wanted to go home badly. Even though he probably did something not that good to others, but it’s all about going home, as if you would get peace if you did so. But he didn’t, even in the end. He was lost in the crowd and finally he was crying, with a stone which he got at the beginning of the movie in his hand. All seemed a wheel. All these kids were trying their best to survive from the reality, but nobody succeeded, and some didn’t even finish that and went directly to the death. Then apparently, he stopped crying. And from then on, he was not a little kid any longer. He has grown up. And his heart has undergone so many troubles that he would no longer be that clear and innocent.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw — and it didn’t improve his mood — was the tabby cat he’d spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
“Lily and James…I can’t believe it…I didn’t want to believe it…Oh, Albus…”
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man’s name was Albus Dumbledore.
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, “Hagrid’s late. I suppose it was he who told you I’d be here, by the way?”
“I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.”
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said “The owls are“nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they’re saying? About why he’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?”
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
“No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”
“Well,” said Dumbledore finally, “that’s that. We’ve no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.”
“Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?” asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
“I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,” said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, “I should have known.”
“And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.” The newscaster allowed himself a grin. “Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to “be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?”
“Only because you’re too — well — noble to use them.”
Professor McGonagall’s voice trembled as she went “on. “That’s not all. They’re saying he tried to kill the Potter’s son, Harry. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter, Voldemort’s power somehow broke — and that’s why he’s gone.”
“You flatter me,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will never have.”
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley....He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “He’ll have that scar forever.”
“No problems, were there?”
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn’t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his nephew was called Harry. He’d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her — if he’d had a sister like that…but all the same, those people in cloaks.…
“Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you know…her crowd.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (“Won’t!”). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
“Shoo!” said Mr. Dursley loudly”
“S-s-sorry,” sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. “But I c-c-can’t stand it —Lily an’ James dead — an’ poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —”
“I know you haven’t, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. “But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of.”