谁有哈利波特全集的英文原著小说txt版本的？还拜托资源共享一下。我想往卡西欧电子辞典上传了。
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http://bj.xdf.cn/publish/portal24/tab13076/info472877.htm
上面的网站有，给你看看例子
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
CHAPTER ONE
THE BOY WHO LIVED
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.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which
made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although
he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde
and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very
useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences,
spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley
and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
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.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday
our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to
suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening
all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most
boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she
wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked
Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but
missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his
cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left
the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
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.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind
by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he
couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely
dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear
people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young
people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his
fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these
weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly
together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them
weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was,
and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it
struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these
people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would
be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley
arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office
on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to
concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing
past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they
pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
上面的网站有，给你看看例子
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
CHAPTER ONE
THE BOY WHO LIVED
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.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which
made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although
he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde
and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very
useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences,
spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley
and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
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.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday
our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to
suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening
all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most
boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she
wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked
Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but
missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his
cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left
the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
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.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind
by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he
couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely
dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear
people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young
people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his
fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these
weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly
together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them
weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was,
and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it
struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these
people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would
be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley
arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office
on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to
concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing
past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they
pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
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