http://www.oxymoronica.com/

enjoy:)

Добавлено (22.11.2007, 22:11)
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для 41-42:

продолжаем то, что не успели -
Стилістичні потенції інверсії
Транспозиції синтаксичних стрктур
Зробіть повний стилістичний аналіз тексту 1

+ ПРАКТИЧНЕ ЗАНЯТТЯ №5

1 Функціональні стилі / мовленнєві регістри сучасної англійської мови – стислий огляд.
2 Сучасні підходи до виділення і класифікації функціональних стилів.
3 Особливості функціональних стилів сучасної англійської мови:
1) белетристичного (стилю художньої літератури); 2) наукового; 3) публіцистичного; 4) ораторського

Литература:

основная - Арнольд, Гальперин, Ефимов, Кухаренко

допольнительная - Дэвид Кристал (131 ауд.), стр.388-, 412-, Дворжецька М.П. ФОНОСТИЛІСТИКА І РИТОРИКА МОВЛЕННЄВОЇ КОМУНІКАЦІЇ - СТР.59-

Интернет-источники:

Functional Styles (Афанасьева, Сенюшкина) http://window.edu.ru/window_catalog/files/r27622/05100045.pdf

Валгина Н.С. Теория текста http://www.hi-edu.ru/e-books/xbook029/01/index.html

И ГУГЛ.КОМ

Добавлено (22.11.2007, 22:41)
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Text 1
B. Schiff
The Vatican target
1849 GREENWICH MEAN TIMS NORTHERN CALIFORNIA 11:49 А.М.
The trembling kept coming back.
She had to clench her fists and brace every muscle to fight it, to smother it. God, it was hard work, but even¬tually, inevitably, it would fade. She could sigh and breathe again normally. And think. And try to figure some way to get out of this place, this bare, chilly room with its table and the wooden chairs pushed untidily against one wall. Battered, ancient things. Everything was old and rotten. Boards covered the windows. A single, unshaded bulb pro¬vided light for the place. The room must have been pleasant in its day; it had a big fireplace, and the wood floor was of good quality. But it was obvious that the room hadn't been used for years, perhaps decades. Dampness had permeated the walls. They looked as if they would ooze if pressed.
The two guys who had brought her here were in the next room, talking in that damned language of theirs. In vain, she had tried to identify it. At first she was convinced they were Greek; then she realized it was only because one of the men reminded her of a local supermarket manager named Constandinidas. She had asked the men where they were from, but they told her not to ask questions.
She listened, trying desperately to make sense of the sounds she heard: intermittent traffic some distance away, a couple of airplanes, the creaking of the house.
Crazy. It made no sense. There was nothing to be gained by kidnapping her... kidnapping. The word sent a dart of fear through her. She thought of the Lindbergh baby, of bodies found buried in leaves. ...
Her head ached; her lips were dry. She had asked for a cup of coffee, but they had paid no attention....
Poor Toby. How could anyone be so goddam callous as to slaughter a sweet creature like Toby? Would his body still be there in the hall when her father got home? What a hell of a shock for him. What would he think? What would he do? Were the creeps going to call him and demand a ransom?
Madness. He wasn't rich. Surely, then, this must be a monstrous foul-up. Sorry, kid, we got the wrong girl. No hard feelings. But you've seen us, so. .. No, she couldn't waste time thinking of such things. What mattered was to organize and prepare, out-think the enemy, confound them.
But how?
God, I'm scared. I might die here; this might be the end of everything .. .finis, blank eternity.. ..
The trembling attacked her again. It swept over her with a kind of willful deliberation. A maddening rhythm. It was exhausting, fighting it. But she knew she couldn't give in. She had to keep up the battle.
She made herself think of revenge, of kicking the bas¬tards in their **** ****, of hurting them, of seeing them cringe....
The thoughts calmed her. Timorously, gingerly, she per¬mitted her muscles to relax. No trembling. Another attack repulsed.
She got up and walked about the room. Her footsteps sounded loud on the bare floor. She tapped her foot. She wished she could tap dance. That would bewilder them. And keep her warm.
How long had they traveled in the truck? An hour? She wasn't sure. About an hour. So, forty or fifty miles. Where could that be? She sighed. Only about ten thousand places. In stories, people always heard freight trains or rushing water that enabled them to pinpoint their locations. But what could you do with a few vague traffic noises and a plane or two? What did they tell you except that cars were traveling and airplanes were flying? You only knew that you were somewhere in the civilized world

Добавлено (01.12.2007, 00:13)
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http://www.sovmu.spbu.ru/main/conf/man-nat-soc/2001/2-10.htm

ассертивы

Добавлено (01.12.2007, 00:16)
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http://argumentation.ru/2002_1/papers/1_2002p3.html - они же

Добавлено (01.12.2007, 00:25)
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http://www.google.com/search?....uistics

Добавлено (02.12.2007, 00:39)
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гальперин, в общем-то, но красиво, красиво))

http://rescentr.ablaikhan.kz/ebooks/stilistika_angl/R1.htm