點擊下方⇊⇊⇊公眾號即可看全免小說
⇈⇈⇈
「免費小說全本」公眾號。小說免費閱讀吧|免費小說在線閱讀網|免費小說資源|小說傳送站｜小說免費公眾號推薦｜免費小說全集書城推薦｜免費小說公眾號渣渣團｜小說免費閱讀葉辰蕭初然|霸道總裁｜先生是誰等全免費｜熱門都市言情鄉村盡在：免費小說全本公眾號
七貓免費小說是一款擁有海量小說與圖書的手機閱讀軟體平臺。該軟體聚合了海量優質小說，匯集來自全網絡上的各種類型的優質電子書資源人大家免費閱讀，讓用戶盡情體驗免費閱讀的樂趣。而且內容覆蓋了總裁豪門小說、言情小說、穿越架空小說、玄幻小說、青春校園小說、修仙小說、懸疑小說、同人小說、名著、各種類型，你想要的全都有。同時七貓免費小說app憑藉強大的後臺系統為用戶帶去更多優質的小說文章，每天都會更行超多精彩的內容，帶你享受更多的美好。還擁有出版圖書、原創小說、雜誌、漫畫、聽書等多種內容形態，專注於用戶體驗、分享互動、豐富內容、個性化設置等，讓您享受隨身閱讀的樂趣，致力於為用戶提供更多精彩小說，做更優質閱讀體驗的專業閱讀軟體。七貓免費小說功能特點有哪些：1、【海量小說免費看】：海量小說免費看，無任何花式收費。全站數萬本小說全部正版，全部精品，全部免費，讓你從此脫離書荒！2、【閱讀功能個性化】：背景顏色、字體、字號任你挑；自定義排版、書籤功能、夜間模式等特色功能讓你暢享閱讀趣味！3、【任務獎勵享不停】：新手紅包、閱讀時長、每日分享、邀請好友，完成任務即有大量金幣和現金獎勵！現金可提現，提現門檻低、速度快！七貓免費小說軟體亮點：1、【一鍵離線下載】一鍵輕鬆下載到本地，沒網也能看。2、【海量精選小說】精選萬本優質小說，青春校園、總裁豪門、玄幻武俠、 都市異能、圖書名著，各種類型，你想要的全都有。3、【多平臺雲同步】不同設備自由切換，一鍵登錄，無需手動設置， 雲書架自動同步，至愛小說輕鬆轉移。4、【全局護眼模式】智能過濾藍光，減輕雙眼負擔，看再久都不用擔心眼睛疲勞了。小說雖精彩，可不要上癮哦。七貓免費小說功能介紹：1、一鍵下載書籍便可離線閱讀，支持跨設備同步閱讀記錄。2、支持多種閱讀背景、字體、翻頁和屏幕亮度，你的每分閱讀都是享受。3、上萬本精選小說，更有超多出版和漫畫書籍等你來看。4、書友互助，傳遞溫暖，終結書荒!隨時隨地和書友分享書籍和想法。5、特色書架主題皮膚、專屬個人主頁，標識你的個性。6、閱讀時長兌換閱讀幣，和書友比拼閱讀時長排行!【七貓免費小說海量熱門小說】鬥羅大陸、雪中悍刀行、聖墟、永夜君王、遮天、鬥破蒼穹、莽荒紀、贅婿、太初、大王饒命、牧神記、飛劍問道、武煉巔峰、重生棄少歸來等。
以下英文版小說品閱
thoroughly outspent by our heavyweight corporate opponents who, according to estimates, infused at least $300 million into their campaign to defeat reform.
The insurance industry’s distortions were so effective that many Americans didn’t
understand that key elements of reform―which they supported―were actually in the
Clinton plan. One news story in The Wall Street Journal on March 10, 1994, summed up
our dilemma under the headline MANY DON』T REALIZE IT』S THE CLINTON PLAN
THEY LIKE. The writer explained that while Americans strongly supported specific
elements in the Clinton plan, 「Mr. Clinton is losing the battle to define his own health
care bill. In the cacophony of negative television ads and sniping by critics, foes are raising doubts about the Clinton plan faster than the President and Hillary Rodham Clinton
can explain it. Unless the Clintons can cut through the confusion, the outlook for passage
of major elements of their bill is in doubt.」
While Washington was caught up in health care reform and Whitewater, the rest of
the world was not. In early May, the U.N. tightened sanctions on the military junta in
Haiti, and a new wave of Haitian refugees headed to American shores. A crisis was building, and Bill felt he had to ask Al Gore to fill in for him on a trip to South Africa for Nelson Mandela’s presidential inauguration. Tipper and I joined Al as members of the U.S.
delegation. I was thrilled at the prospect of taking part in this momentous event. During
the 1980s, I had supported the boycott of South Africa, hoping that the apartheid regime
would bow to international pressure. On the day Mandela walked out of prison in February 1990, Bill woke Chelsea before dawn so together they could watch the drama unfold.
I traveled in a packed plane for the sixteen-hour flight to Johannesburg. My companions stayed up all night playing cards, listening to music and talking ecstatically about the
historic change we were about to witness. After serving twenty-seven years in prison for
plotting against South Africa’s apartheid government, Nelson Mandela had won that
country’s first interracial election to become its first black President. The liberation strug-
gle in South Africa was deeply linked with the American civil rights movement and supported by African American leaders, many of whom were coming with us to honor Mandela.
We landed on the outskirts of Johannesburg, a sprawling modern city in South Africa’s dry central highlands. That night we attended a performance at the famous Market
Theatre, where for years Athol Fugard and other playwrights had defied government censors and depicted the agony of apartheid. Afterwards, we were treated to a buffet dinner
featuring assorted African specialties along with the usual carved meats and salads. I
wasn’t as adventurous as Maggie and the rest of my staff who dared one another to sample the fried grasshoppers and grubs.
Our delegation drove north to the capital, Pretoria. Because the official transition of
power didn’t occur until the new President was sworn in, the President’s stately residence
was still occupied by E W de Klerk. The next morning, while AI Gore met with de Klerk
and his ministers, Tipper and I had breakfast with Mrs. Marike de Klerk and the wives of
other outgoing National Party officials. We sat in a wood-paneled breakfast room thickly
decorated with ruffled fabrics and porcelain knickknacks. A lazy Susan in the middle of a
big round table was heaped with the jams, breads, biscuits and eggs of a classic Dutch
farm breakfast. Although we made light conversation about food, children and the
weather, the moment was subsumed in the unspoken subtext: in a few hours, the world
these women inhabited would disappear forever.
Fifty thousand people attended the inauguration, a spectacle of celebration, release
and vindication. Everyone marveled at the orderly transfer of power in a country that had
been so ravaged by racist fear and hatred. Colin Powell, a member of our delegation, was
moved to tears during the flyover of jets from the South African Defense Force. Their
contrails streaked across the sky, tinted with the red, black, green, blue, white and gold
colors of the new national flag. A few years earlier, the same jets were a powerful symbol
of apartheid’s military power; now they were dipping their wings to honor their new
black commander in chief.
Mandela’s speech denounced discrimination on the basis of race and gender, two profoundly embedded prejudices in Africa and most of the rest of the world. As we were
leaving the ceremony, I saw the Rev. Jesse Jackson weeping with joy. He leaned over and
said to me, 「Did you ever think any of us would live to see this day?」
We returned by motorcade to the President’s residence to find it transformed. The
long winding drive through green lawns, which just hours before had been lined with
armed military men, was now arrayed with brightly costumed drummers and dancers
from throughout South Africa. The mood was light and joyous, as if the air itself had
changed in an afternoon. We were ushered into the house for cocktails and to mix and
mingle with the dozens of visiting heads of state and their delegations. One of my challenges that afternoon was Fidel Castro. The State Department briefers had warned me that
Castro wanted to meet me. They told me to avoid him at all costs, since we had no diplomatic relations with Cuba, not to mention a trade embargo.
「You can’t shake hands with him,」 they told me. 「You can’t talk to him.」 Even if I
accidentally bumped into him, the anti-Castro factions in Florida would go wild.
I frequently looked over my shoulder during the reception, watching for his bushy
gray beard in the crowd of faces. In the middle of a fascinating conversation with somebody like King Mswati III of Swaziland, I』d suddenly spot Castro moving toward me,
and I』d hightail it to a far corner of the room. It was ridiculous, but I knew that a single
photograph, stray sentence or chance encounter could become news.
Lunch was served on the grounds under an enormous white canvas tent. Mandela rose
to address his guests. I love listening to him speak in that slow, dignified manner that
manages to be both formal and alive with good humor. He made the expected remarks to
welcome us. Then he said something that left me in awe: While he was pleased to host so
many dignitaries, he was most pleased to have in attendance three of his former jailers
from Robben Island who had treated him with respect during his imprisonment. He asked
them to stand so he could introduce them to the crowd.
His generosity of spirit was inspiring and humbling. For months I had been preoccupied with the hostility in Washington and the mean-spirited attacks connected to Whitewater, Vince Foster and the travel office. But here was Mandela, honoring three men who
had held him prisoner.
When I got to know Mandela better, he explained that as a young man he had a quick
temper. In prison he learned to control his emotions in order to survive. His years in jail
had given him the time and motivation to look deeply into his own heart and to deal with
the pain he found. He reminded me that gratitude and forgiveness, which often result
from pain and suffering, require tremendous discipline. The day his imprisonment ended,
he told me, 「as I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I
knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I』d still be in prison.」
Still pondering Mandela’s example the night I returned from South Africa, I joined
five former First Ladies at the National Garden Gala. I was the honorary Chair of the
event at the U.S. Botanic Garden to help raise funds to construct a new garden that would
be a living landmark on the Mall, dedicated to eight contemporary First Ladies and honoring our contributions to the nation.
I was delighted that Lady Bird Johnson was able to attend. She and I wrote each other
during my years in the White House, and she was a comforting and affirming correspondent. I admired the quiet strength and grace she had brought to her position as First Lady.
She began a beautification program that spread wildflowers along thousands of miles of
U.S. highways and enhanced our appreciation of the natural landscape. Through Lady
Bird’s advocacy, a generation of Americans learned new respect for the environment and
were inspired to preserve it. She also championed Head Start, the early learning program
for disadvantaged children. And when it came to campaigning, she barnstormed the
South for her husband in his 1964 race against Barry Goldwater. Throughout a difficult
time in the White House, she understood that presidential politics required commitment
and sacrifice. With her intelligence and compassion, she held her own in a world dominated by Lyndon Johnson’s oversize personality Disheartened by Washington, I valued
her hard-won sense of perspective.
The photos from that gala evening were keepers: Lady Bird, Barbara Bush, Nancy
Reagan, Rosalynn Carter, Betty Ford and me. It was quite a sight: all the living First Ladies standing together onstage – except for one.
Some months earlier, Jackie Kennedy Onassis had been diagnosed with nonHodgkin’s lymphoma, an often deadly but sometimes slow-moving cancer. As a result,
she was unable to be with us. We』d been told that she had gone through surgery, but not
how quickly she had weakened. True to character, she tried to keep her dying as private
as she』d kept her life.
On May 19, 1994, Jackie died in her New York apartment, with Caroline, John and
Maurice at her side. Early the following morning, Bill and I went to the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden off the east colonnade of the White House to share our thoughts with a
gathering of press, staff and friends. Bill recognized her contributions to our country,
while I talked about her selfless devotion to her children and grandchildren: 「She once
explained the importance of spending time with family and said: 『If you bungle raising
your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much.』 「 I could not have