Có !

`=>` Đây là cho tôi đi nhờ hoặc cho tôi quá giang ( tùy tiếng địa phương )

`=>` Đây cũng có nghĩa là động viên ai đó 

Give me a lift: cho tôi quá giang, cho tôi đi nhờ.

Example: Can you give me a lift to Noi Bai airport? (Bạn có thể cho tôi đi nhờ đến sân bay nội bài không?)

`---`

Ngoài ra, give me a lift còn có một nghĩa nữa, đó là: động viên tinh thần, cổ động.

Example: All the TEDxtalks's conversation really gave me a lift! (Những cuộc nói chuyện của TEDxtalks thật sự đã động viên tinh thần của tôi!)

`---`

Gửi ké tài liệu '-')

Chapter 3
It took me a long time to learn where he came from. The little prince, who
asked me so many questions [ˈkwɛS.ʧənz], never seemed to hear the ones I asked him. It was
from words dropped by chance that, little by little, everything was revealed to
me.
The first time he saw my airplane, for instance (I shall not draw my airplane;
that would be much too complicated for me), he asked me:
“What is that object?”
“That is not an object. It flies. It is an airplane. It is my airplane.”
And I was proud to have him learn that I could fly.
He cried out, then:
“What! You dropped down from the sky?”
“Yes,” I answered, modestly.[ˈmodəstli]
“Oh! That is funny!”
And the little prince broke into a lovely peal of laughter, which irritated[ˈɪr.ə.teɪ.t̬ɪd] me
very much. I like my misfortunes to be taken seriously.
Then he added:
“So you, too, come from the sky! Which is your planet?”
At that moment I caught a gleam of light in the impenetrable[ɪmˈ.pe.n.ə.trə.bəl] mystery of
his presence[ˈprez.əns]; and I demanded, abruptly:
“Do you come from another planet?”
But he did not reply. He tossed his head gently, without taking his eyes from
my plane:
“It is true that on that you can’t have come from very far away. . . ”
And he sank into a reverie[rev·er·ie], which lasted a long time. Then, taking my sheep
out of his pocket, he buried himself in the contemplation of his treasure.
You can imagine how my curiosity was aroused by this half-confidence about
the “other planets.” I made a great effort, therefore, to find out more on this
subject.
“My little man, where do you come from? What is this ‘where I live,’ of
which you speak? Where do you want to take your sheep?”
After a reflective silence he answered:
“The thing that is so good about the box you have given me is that at night
he can use it as his house.”
9
10 CHAPTER 3.
“That is so. And if you are good I will give you a string, too, so that you
can tie him during the day, and a post to tie him to.”
But the little prince seemed shocked by this offer:
“Tie him! What a queer idea!”
“But if you don’t tie him,” I said, “he will wander off somewhere, and get
lost.”
My friend broke into another peal of laughter:
“But where do you think he would go?”
“Anywhere. Straight ahead of him.”
Then the little prince said, earnestly[ˈɝː.nɪst.li]:
“That doesn’t matter. Where I live, everything is so small!”
And, with perhaps a hint of sadness, he added:
“Straight ahead of him, nobody can go very far. . . ”
Chapter 4
I had thus[ðʌs] learned a second fact of great importance: this was that the planet
the little prince came from was scarcely any larger than a house!
But that did not really surprise me much. I knew very well that in addition
to the great planets– such as the Earth, Jupiter, Mars, Venus[ˈviː.nəs]– to which we have
given names, there are also hundreds of others, some of which are so small that
one has a hard time seeing them through the telescope. When an astronomer
discovers one of these he does not give it a name, but only a number. He might
call it, for example, “Asteroid[ˈæs.tə.rɔɪd] 325-three hundred twenty five.”
I have serious reason to believe that the planet from which the little prince
came is the asteroid known as B-612-six hundred and twelve.
This asteroid has only once been seen through the telescope. That was by a
Turkish astronomer, in 1909.-nineteen oh nine
On making his discovery, the astronomer had presented it to the International Astronomical Congress, in a great demonstration. But he was in Turkish
costume, and so nobody would believe what he said.
Grown-ups are like that. . .
Fortunately, however, for the reputation of Asteroid B-612-six hundred and twelve., a Turkish dictator made a law that his subjects, under pain of death, should change to
European costume. So in 1920-nineteen twenty the astronomer gave his demonstration all over
again, dressed with impressive style and elegance. And this time everybody
accepted his report.
11
12 CHAPTER 4.
If I have told you these details about the asteroid and made a note of its
number for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways. When you
tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions
about essential matters. They never say to you, “What does his voice sound
like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?” Instead,
they demand: “How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he
weigh? How much money does his father make?” Only from these figures do
they think they have learned anything about him.
If you were to say to the grown-ups: “I saw a beautiful house made of rosy
brick, with geraniums[ʤờ.rây.ni.ừmz] in the windows and doves on the roof,” they would not
be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: “I
saw a house that cost $20,000-twenty thousand dollars.” Then they would exclaim: “Oh, what a pretty
house that is!”
Just so, you might say to them: “The proof that the little prince existed is
that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If
anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists.” And what good would
it do to tell them that? They would shrug their shoulders, and treat you like a
child. But if you said to them: “The planet he came from is Asteroid B-612-six hundred and twelve ,”
then they would be convinced, and leave you in peace from their questions.
They are like that. One must not hold it against them. Children should
always show great forbearance[fɔːrˈber.əns] toward grown-up people.
But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference.
I should have liked to begin this story in the fashion of the fairy-tales. I should
have like to say: “Once upon a time there was a little prince who lived on
a planet that was scarcely any bigger than himself, and who had need of a
sheep. . . ”
To those who understand life, that would have given a much greater air of
truth to my story.
For I do not want anyone to read my book carelessly. I have suffered too
much grief in setting down these memories. Six years have already passed since
my friend went away from me, with his sheep. If I try to describe him here, it
is to make sure that I shall not forget him. To forget a friend is sad. Not every
one has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown-ups who
are no longer interested in anything but figures. . .
It is for that purpose, again, that I have bought a box of paints and some
pencils. It is hard to take up drawing again at my age, when I have never made
any pictures except those of the boa [bâu ờ] constrictor from the outside and the boa
constrictor from the inside, since I was six. I shall certainly try to make my
13
portraits as true to life as possible. But I am not at all sure of success. One
drawing goes along all right, and another has no resemblance[rɪˈzem.bləns] to its subject.
I make some errors, too, in the little prince’s height: in one place he is too
tall and in another too short. And I feel some doubts about the color of his
costume. So I fumble along as best I can, now good, now bad, and I hope
generally fair-to-middling.
In certain more important details I shall make mistakes, also. But that is
something that will not be my fault. My friend never explained anything to me.
He thought, perhaps, that I was like himself. But I, alas, do not know how to
see sheep through the walls of boxes. Perhaps I am a little like the grown-ups.
I have had to grow old.
14 CHAPTER 4.
Chapter 5
As each day passed I would learn, in our talk, something about the little prince’s
planet, his departure from it, his journey. The information would come very
slowly, as it might chance to fall from his thoughts. It was in this way that I
heard, on the third day, about the catastrophe[kəˈtæs.trə.fi] of the baobabs /ˈbeɪ.əʊ.bæb/. This time, once
more, I had the sheep to thank for it. For the little prince asked me abruptly–
as if seized by a grave doubt– “It is true, isn’t it, that sheep eat little bushes?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Ah! I am glad!”
I did not understand why it was so important that sheep should eat little
bushes. But the little prince added:
“Then it follows that they also eat baobabs?”
I pointed out to the little prince that baobabs were not little bushes, but,
on the contrary, trees as big as castles; and that even if he took a whole herd of
elephants away with him, the herd would not eat up one single baobab.
The idea of the herd of elephants made the little prince laugh.
“We would have to put them one on top of the other,” he said.
But he made a wise comment:
“Before they grow so big, the baobabs start out by being little.”
“That is strictly correct,” I said. “But why do you want the sheep to eat
the little baobabs?”
15
16 CHAPTER 5.
He answered me at once, “Oh, come, come!”, as if he were speaking of
something that was self-evident. And I was obliged[əˈblaɪdʒd] to make a great mental
effort to solve this problem, without any assistance.
Indeed, as I learned, there were on the planet where the little prince lived–
as on all planets– good plants and bad plants. In consequence, there were good
seeds from good plants, and bad seeds from bad plants. But seeds are invisible.
They sleep deep in the heart of the earth’s darkness, until some one among
them is seized with the desire to awaken. Then this little seed will stretch itself
and begin– timidly at first– to push a charming little sprig inoffensively upward
toward the sun. If it is only a sprout of radish or the sprig of a rose-bush, one
would let it grow wherever it might wish. But when it is a bad plant, one must
destroy it as soon as possible, the very first instant that one recognizes it.
Now there were some terrible seeds on the planet that was the home of the
little prince; and these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of that planet
was infested with them. A baobab is something you will never, never be able to
get rid of if you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. It bores
clear through it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and the baobabs
are too many, they split it in pieces. . .
“It is a question of discipline,” the little prince said to me later on. “When
you’ve finished your own toilet in the morning, then it is time to attend to the
toilet of your planet, just so, with the greatest care. You must see to it that
you pull up regularly all the baobabs, at the very first moment when they can
be distinguished from the rosebushes which they resemble so closely in their
earliest youth[juːθ]. It is very tedious[ˈtiː.di.əs] work,” the little prince added, “but very easy.”
And one day he said to me: “You ought to make a beautiful drawing, so
that the children where you live can see exactly how all this is. That would
be very useful to them if they were to travel some day. Sometimes,” he added,
“there is no harm in putting off a piece of work until another day. But when it
is a matter of baobabs, that always means a catastrophe[kəˈtæs.trə.fi]. I knew a planet that
was inhabited by a lazy man. He neglected[nɪˈɡlek.tɪd] three little bushes. . . ”
So, as the little prince described it to me, I have made a drawing of that
planet. I do not much like to take the tone of a moralist. But the danger of
17
the baobabs is so little understood, and such considerable risks would be run by
anyone who might get lost on an asteroid, that for once I am breaking through
my reserve. “Children,” I say plainly, “watch out for the baobabs!”
My friends, like myself, have been skirting this danger for a long time, without ever knowing it; and so it is for them that I have worked so hard over this
drawing. The lesson which I pass on by this means is worth all the trouble it
has cost me.
Perhaps you will ask me, “Why is there no other drawing in this book as
magnificent and impressive as this drawing of the baobabs?”
The reply is simple. I have tried. But with the others I have not been
successful. When I made the drawing of the baobabs I was carried beyond
myself by the inspiring force of urgent necessity.
18 CHAPTER 5.
Chapter 6
Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your sad
little life. . . For a long time you had found your only entertainment in the quiet
pleasure of looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of
the fourth day, when you said to me:
“I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now.”
“But we must wait,” I said.
“Wait? For what?”
“For the sunset. We must wait until it is time.”
At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to
yourself. You said to me:
“I am always thinking that I am at home!”
Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun
is setting over France.
If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the
sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But
on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few
steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like. . .
“One day,” you said to me, “I saw the sunset forty-four times!”
And a little later you added:
“You know– one loves the sunset, when one is so sad. . . ”
“Were you so sad, then?” I asked, “on the day of the forty-four sunsets?”
But the little prince made no reply