Uncountable and countable Flashcards
UNCOUNTABLE NOUNS
All liquids are uncountable.
Abstract ideas (chaos / motivation / advice)
Mass nouns (furniture / hair / transportation)
Natural phenomena (rain / weather / sunshine)
States of being (sleep/ childhood)
Powder and grains (rice / sand)
UNCOUNTABLE NOUNS
You always need a singular verb: e.g. your advice is good
You cannot add s: e.g. advices = advice
You cannot use a/an: e.g. an advice
You can use “some”: e.g. some advice is needed
You use MUCH with uncountable nouns e.g. much information
If you wanted to count the
advice, you would need a quantifier, A PIECE OF
E.g. Let me give you a piece of advice.
Liquids are uncountable: e.g. water is placed into a tube
The news about my scholarship are very good.
The news about my scholarship is very good.
My lecturer gave me an advice about studying abroad.
My lecturer gave me some/a piece of advice about studying abroad.
Two softwares were used in this experiment: Informer I and II.
Two pieces of software were used in this experiment: Informer I and II.
The aim of this paper is to discuss a research.
The aim of this paper is to discuss some research/a research project.
You are only allowed to take one baggage on the plane with you.
You are only allowed to take one piece of baggage on the plane with you.
The following equipments were used in the experiment…
The following equipment was/pieces of equipment were used in the experiment…
That is a very interesting information you told me.
That is a very interesting piece of information/(some) very interesting information …
There were evidences that the experiment had failed.
There was (some) evidence/a piece of evidence that the experiment had failed.
Partitive nouns:
An i____ of clothing
A l____ of bread
A c_____ of milk
A s______ of sugar
A s___ of concrete
G____ of rice
A w__ of notes
item
loaf
carton
spoonful
slab
grain
wad (roll of paper)
The Curious Day of Mr. Oliver
One gloomy morning, a torrent of abuse greeted Mr. Oliver as he entered the factory — the manager was furious about a piece of advice Oliver had given a coworker. Feeling regretful, he stomped away in a fit of anger, swearing to himself he’d create a work of art instead of dealing with people.
At breakfast, he devoured a rasher of bacon, washed down with a glass of beer, noticing a drop of blood on his shirt from a shaving nick. “Just a spot of bother,” he mumbled, as he wrapped his hand with a loaf of bread he found on the counter, squashing a pat of butter accidentally.
In an effort to distract himself, he played a game of chess with his cat, offering it a bar of chocolate as a bribe (which the cat wisely refused). He tossed an item of clothing onto the couch, knocking over a lump of coal and spilling a cup of coffee all over an ear of corn he’d been saving for lunch.
He decided the mess was hopeless — a scrap of difference wouldn’t have mattered. As he cleaned, he spotted a speck of dust and wiped it with a scrap of evidence from an old notebook, wondering if it was an item of expenditure he’d forgotten to log.
Later, he found an article of faith his grandmother had sent him — a cross — wrapped inside a morsel of food. Taking a breath of fresh air outside, he munched on a piece of fruit he’d grabbed on the way out, looking forward to a bit of fun.
His day took a turn when he discovered a piece of furniture — an ancient rocking chair — by the roadside, alongside a clove of garlic, a pane of glass, and a blade of grass mysteriously glued together. Suddenly, a pang of guilt hit him for not visiting his grandmother sooner.
He clipped a lock of hair from his beard in a symbolic gesture and tucked it into a jar of honey he’d picked up at a market. A neighbor offered him a glimmer of hope by inviting him to a community gathering — a place where a sense of humour was valued over harsh words.
A mild pang of hunger reminded him it was lunchtime. He grabbed a block of ice and a scoop of ice cream, followed by a piece of information overheard at the diner about a lost treasure.
Determined, he maintained a plea of innocence when accused of daydreaming too much, responding with a touch of irony. Over a jar of jam and a glass of juice, he plotted his treasure hunt, vowing to commit an act of kindness first — helping a farmer clear a piece of land.
As he worked, he heard a peal of laughter from nearby children, saw a ray of light through the trees, and witnessed a flash of lightning that lit up the sky like a work of literature unfolding.
A sudden stroke of luck had him stumble upon a piece of luggage filled with old coins, but nearby was a case of measles quarantined with warnings — better leave it!
Instead, he found solace in a slice of meat, a dose of medicine, and a bottle of milk offered by the grateful farmer, along with a litre of milk for his way back.
He hummed a piece of music he remembered from childhood, sharing an item of news with passersby: the world still held surprises.
At the end of the day, with a litre of oil for his lantern and a coat of paint for his broken gate, he wrote a note on a piece of paper: “Life is a beautiful crime of passion.”
Spritzing on a dab of perfume, he reflected on the dangers of an abuse of power he’d once fought against. As a shower of rain fell, he bowed in a sign of respect toward the village temple.
The night ended with an act of revenge (his cat knocking over a bowl of rice), a grain of rice stuck to his sock, and a decision to clean up a pile of rubbish behind the house.
He sipped a glass of rum by the fireplace, added a pinch of salt to his soup, ordered a plate of seafood for tomorrow’s dinner, and vowed to never lose a sense of shame.
Before sleeping, he observed a minute of silence, acknowledging a wall of silence that often hid deep truths. After barely catching a night of sleep, he woke up to a cloud of smoke — the neighbor had accidentally started a fall of snow effect with foam at a party!
After a quick shower with a cake of soap, and wrestling with a feeling of sorrow, Oliver enjoyed a bowl of soup and sweetened his tea with a lump of sugar and a spoonful of sugar.
By then, the sun rose like a ray of sunshine. He chose a cup of tea over coffee and challenged the neighbor to a game of tennis to settle old grudges.
The match was interrupted by a clap of thunder and a moment of time when he realized — even if there was barely a grain of truth in the tales people told, the important thing was to live fully.
He let go of grudges, refusing an act of vengeance, even after an outbreak of violence (a water balloon fight) erupted.
Admiring a drop of water hanging from a leaf, he smiled at his modest sign of wealth — the laughter of friends.
Later, he took a picture of an ear of wheat, toasted with a shot of whiskey, caught a gust of wind in his scarf, and laughed when he spilled a glass of wine on the floor.
After offering a pearl of wisdom to a wandering tourist — “Don’t chase treasure, chase moments” — he sat on a block of wood near the river, unwinding a ball of wool for knitting.
It was a day of work he’d never forget — and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The Adventure of Seraphina
In a small village kissed by a breath of fresh air and a ray of sunshine, lived Seraphina, a woman blessed with a piece of advice from every elder she met. She carried a torrent of aggression inside her, though she masked it well with a sense of humour and endless acts of kindness.
One morning, she prepared for a journey. Packing a piece of clothing, a piece of fruit, and a lump of bread with a pat of butter spread on it, she tucked in a slice of beef and a bowl of pasta for strength. Her flask was filled with a cup of tea and a glass of milk for the road.
The village baker, a friend of hers, offered a piece of cake wrapped in cloth, and the jeweler gifted her a piece of jewelry to trade in distant lands. “You’ll need a grain of wisdom,” he said with a peal of laughter.
Seraphina set off, dodging a shower of rain and navigating a pile of traffic caused by broken carts. She crossed fields covered in a fall of snow, walking carefully across a block of ice and sipping a glass of water to stay hydrated.
In the mountains, she met an old sage who lived surrounded by a wall of silence. He traded her a piece of paper with ancient maps written on it for a jar of jam she carried. He warned her of dangers ahead: “You will face an outbreak of violence, a storm of chaos, and perhaps lose a piece of confidence.”
Undeterred, Seraphina pressed on. She passed through forests heavy with a cloud of smoke from wildfires, clutching a ball of wool she’d been weaving into charms. When she stumbled into a city buzzing with a gust of energy and a wave of shopping, she felt a pang of guilt for enjoying simple things while others craved a flash of fame and a river of money.
Stopping at a market, she traded for a block of wood to carve, a bar of silver, and a few pieces of cotton cloth. She enjoyed a bowl of soup sprinkled with a pinch of salt and sweetened her tea with a spoonful of sugar.
At night, in her tent warmed by a block of wood burning, she heard a clap of thunder and feared an outbreak of violence might strike the camp. Yet all she saw was a moment of time where the storm and a river of rain washed her fears away.
She dreamed of finding a piece of land where a feeling of peace, a stream of patience, and a field of trust would reign. In her dreams, a ray of light split the darkness, and a piece of magic unfolded: she would build a school there, offering a piece of education, a piece of knowledge, and a sparkle of understanding to anyone who came.
Years later, Seraphina’s village was renowned not for riches or fame, but for a garden of happiness, a library of wisdom, and a river of hope — thanks to a single act of kindness and the belief that even a grain of truth can grow into a whole new world.
🌟 The Great Journey of Aveline
Aveline lived in a town where a piece of advice could save your life, and a torrent of aggression could end it. She had always offered a bit of assistance to anyone in need, her beauty shining brighter than gold, like a work of art in the middle of everyday life.
Every morning, she ate a slice of beef, a loaf of bread with a pat of butter, and a piece of cake, then tucked some cash into her bag just in case a dash of chaos caught her during the day.
She sewed her own items of clothing out of cotton, walking around with a cloak of confidence, her heart always full of a glimmer of content. Yet, she knew a layer of danger lurked in the shadows, especially when a fall of darkness covered the town.
Aveline’s dreams were full of driving through fields of wildflowers and receiving a breath of education from mystical teachers. She had an ocean of energy and found a sparkle of enjoyment even in the dullest chores, fixing broken pieces of equipment with ease.
But not all days were kind. After a moment of failure, she often renewed her article of faith that everything happens for a reason, trusting in a flicker of fame not yet achieved. She journeyed long distances powered by a litre of fuel, her spirit soaring even through storms.
One day, she carried a basket of fruit, a jug of gasoline, and a heavy burden of grief after her village suffered losses. She gave a pendant made of gold to a friend who was drowning in a pang of guilt.
She played a game of golf at the edge of town to lift her spirits, careful to avoid a streak of harm from the wild animals nearby. Afterward, she lounged in a lake of happiness, cherishing simple moments.
Her evenings were spent finishing mountains of homework, reading jokes to maintain a sense of humour, and offering a helping hand of help to young students.
When the rivers froze into blocks of ice, Aveline sought a piece of information from the library, amazed at the depth of intelligence stored in its books.
For breakfast, she spread a jar of jam on her toast and admired a pearl of jewelry gifted to her by a wise woman who had immense knowledge. Later, they shared peals of laughter, their bond strengthened by a depth of love.
Her backpack was filled with pieces of luggage — inside were gears and old bits of machinery, some rumored to hold traces of magic. At dinner, she enjoyed a slice of meat, a block of meat roasted over the fire, and washed it down with a glass of milk.
She never cared much for amassing mountains of money, but sought a glimmer of motivation and always respected the harmony of nature. She read an item of news about storms, preparing her hut with sheets of paper sealed with drops of perfume.
Her patience was legendary; even in arguments, she’d answer with a breeze of peace, holding onto her pillar of pride. She measured her success not by wealth but by the river of progress she helped create around her.
Aveline didn’t chase clouds of publicity, nor fear a plate of pasta thrown at town festivals. She danced under showers of rain, leading researchers to new ideas — truly, a spark of research grew wherever she stepped.
At mealtimes, she would share bowls of rice, sprinkle pinches of salt into dishes, and serve plates of seafood to visitors.
In the sky, galaxies of space twinkled as Aveline finished bags of shopping — buying candles to light her study — where she meditated in oceans of silence.
Her favorite dinner was a bowl of soup, sometimes paired with spaghetti (a bowl of spaghetti) or a dessert sweetened with lumps of sugar.
She admired her collection of jewels of silver, crafted from village trade, watching clouds of smoke and carpets of snow blanket the mountains.
Every morning, she practiced strokes of spelling, improved bits of software, and managed stress with tea ceremonies featuring cups of tea on her sun-drenched porch.
Patches of stress dissolved under beams of sunshine, and matches of tennis with friends filled her weekends.
Time, she believed, was not a commodity but a river of time flowing with experiences. Her cart carried loads of transportation goods, and she dreamt of oceans of travel — yet never lost herself to the roars of thunder or got stuck in waves of traffic.
She trusted deeply, holding onto anchors of trust even in betrayal. She loved slices of toast with jam, always pursuing fields of understanding and waves of unemployment solutions for her neighbors.
Where others saw pools of violence, she grew gardens of peace.
Her visions were vivid — sunsets blazing with warmth, fountains overflowing with water, gold leaves symbolizing wealth, and storms delivering new weather.
She collected pearls of wisdom whispered by ancient trees, carved pieces of wood into charms, and honored the fierce, hopeful light of youth.
Some words to use as partities:
block slab lump mass cake cube piece chunk nugget hunk wedge bar brick wad bit portion slice wodge square clump tablet gob gobbet blob clod dollop nub knob ingot glob quantity nubble clot segment pile bunch solid oblong dod morsel batch bulk large piece ball body mound part amount coagulation bump knot section cluster chip tile cut sliver dab scrap fragment plate pat growth stick division agglomeration stone quoin member excrescence excrescency group length nodule node concentration share shred building block spot sample fraction article pad wadding item flake offcut particle quota allowance wafer remnant proportion crumb shard speck grain allotment splinter take mouthful end snippet mite knurl half iota sampling lot dole parcel smithereen bite cornerstone boulder bundle plug joint solid piece domino roll tuft cushion ream lining taper bulge drop slate cinder block strip billet shingle briquette triangle spire rock rod muck stave cutting board pantile component shim prong element constituent ingredient Lego unit factor Duplo sarsen
