

InterviewSolution
This section includes InterviewSolutions, each offering curated multiple-choice questions to sharpen your knowledge and support exam preparation. Choose a topic below to get started.
101. |
At the beginning of his speech, Mandela mentions "an extraordinary human disaster". What does he mean by this? What is the glorious ....human achievement” he speaks of at the end? |
Answer» Solution :At the beginning of his speech, MANDELA CALLS the apartheid regime based on racial discrimination as an extraordinary human disaster.” The people were deprived of JUSTICE, peace and human dignity. Now the NEW REPUBLIC ensures social justice, equality and human dignity. Never will South Africa see any exploitation of men by men and racial discrimination. | |
102. |
1. It is rather the self-importance of man that he thinks he owns this world. Theories have developedsince the very beginning of cultural and religious development on these lines. There is an Adam and Eve. There is an Adam and Hava. There is a Manu having brought life on this planet after pralaya. All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant for man. They talk of communion between Man and God. But science has exploded such myths. It was not really so that man owned the world in the beginning. Man developed physically to the form as we find him now, over a period of time, at a very late stage. The planet started with micro life. There is a period of millions of years even between the existence of the micro life and the huge dinosaurwho owned the world and ruled over it.2. But nature has been rather cruel to this animal world for which actually, everything in the worldwas mean. Nature bestowed man with a developed brain that it did not develop in any other creature. This partiality of nature made him Homo Sapien. It was only man who could think and plan about his existence and welfare, polluting in the process, the land, the space and the seas that nature had made for all. His own creation may one day go against him. But now he owns the world and is the master of all that he surveys. He feels that all the creatures on the earth and even beyond the earth are meant for him.3. The ego of ownership has made man the most cruel animal in the world. He builds palatialbuildings and big cities on the abodes of small creatures like ants and other burrow dwellers.They are all meant to die for his facilities. 4. Nature made vegetation that is meant for all living beings. But man felt that all the animals aremeant for him. He killed elephant for its tusks, deer for its horns, a large number of animals for their hide for shoes, decoration and dresses. He killed musk deer to have the musk from its muskpod. He kills a large number of animals for his food. His number is increasing in such away that he will have no fear, ever of animals, owning the world again. 5. Man justifies his killing of animals by a strange theory. “One living being is the food of anotherliving creature". Who will remind him of the doomsday after which the animal world would claim back from man their due right and man may then become “meant” for animals!। On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer thequestions:All theories of man's development are based on: |
Answer» his self-importance |
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103. |
1. It is rather the self-importance of man that he thinks he owns this world. Theories have developedsince the very beginning of cultural and religious development on these lines. There is an Adam and Eve. There is an Adam and Hava. There is a Manu having brought life on this planet after pralaya. All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant for man. They talk of communion between Man and God. But science has exploded such myths. It was not really so that man owned the world in the beginning. Man developed physically to the form as we find him now, over a period of time, at a very late stage. The planet started with micro life. There is a period of millions of years even between the existence of the micro life and the huge dinosaurwho owned the world and ruled over it.2. But nature has been rather cruel to this animal world for which actually, everything in the worldwas mean. Nature bestowed man with a developed brain that it did not develop in any other creature. This partiality of nature made him Homo Sapien. It was only man who could think and plan about his existence and welfare, polluting in the process, the land, the space and the seas that nature had made for all. His own creation may one day go against him. But now he owns the world and is the master of all that he surveys. He feels that all the creatures on the earth and even beyond the earth are meant for him.3. The ego of ownership has made man the most cruel animal in the world. He builds palatialbuildings and big cities on the abodes of small creatures like ants and other burrow dwellers.They are all meant to die for his facilities. 4. Nature made vegetation that is meant for all living beings. But man felt that all the animals aremeant for him. He killed elephant for its tusks, deer for its horns, a large number of animals for their hide for shoes, decoration and dresses. He killed musk deer to have the musk from its muskpod. He kills a large number of animals for his food. His number is increasing in such away that he will have no fear, ever of animals, owning the world again. 5. Man justifies his killing of animals by a strange theory. “One living being is the food of anotherliving creature". Who will remind him of the doomsday after which the animal world would claim back from man their due right and man may then become “meant” for animals!। On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer thequestions:Man didn't own the world: |
Answer» in the BEGINNING |
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104. |
1. It is rather the self-importance of man that he thinks he owns this world. Theories have developedsince the very beginning of cultural and religious development on these lines. There is an Adam and Eve. There is an Adam and Hava. There is a Manu having brought life on this planet after pralaya. All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant for man. They talk of communion between Man and God. But science has exploded such myths. It was not really so that man owned the world in the beginning. Man developed physically to the form as we find him now, over a period of time, at a very late stage. The planet started with micro life. There is a period of millions of years even between the existence of the micro life and the huge dinosaurwho owned the world and ruled over it.2. But nature has been rather cruel to this animal world for which actually, everything in the worldwas mean. Nature bestowed man with a developed brain that it did not develop in any other creature. This partiality of nature made him Homo Sapien. It was only man who could think and plan about his existence and welfare, polluting in the process, the land, the space and the seas that nature had made for all. His own creation may one day go against him. But now he owns the world and is the master of all that he surveys. He feels that all the creatures on the earth and even beyond the earth are meant for him.3. The ego of ownership has made man the most cruel animal in the world. He builds palatialbuildings and big cities on the abodes of small creatures like ants and other burrow dwellers.They are all meant to die for his facilities. 4. Nature made vegetation that is meant for all living beings. But man felt that all the animals aremeant for him. He killed elephant for its tusks, deer for its horns, a large number of animals for their hide for shoes, decoration and dresses. He killed musk deer to have the musk from its muskpod. He kills a large number of animals for his food. His number is increasing in such away that he will have no fear, ever of animals, owning the world again. 5. Man justifies his killing of animals by a strange theory. “One living being is the food of anotherliving creature". Who will remind him of the doomsday after which the animal world would claim back from man their due right and man may then become “meant” for animals!। On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer thequestions: All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant: |
Answer» for ANIMALS and MAN |
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105. |
1. It is rather the self-importance of man that he thinks he owns this world. Theories have developedsince the very beginning of cultural and religious development on these lines. There is an Adam and Eve. There is an Adam and Hava. There is a Manu having brought life on this planet after pralaya. All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant for man. They talk of communion between Man and God. But science has exploded such myths. It was not really so that man owned the world in the beginning. Man developed physically to the form as we find him now, over a period of time, at a very late stage. The planet started with micro life. There is a period of millions of years even between the existence of the micro life and the huge dinosaurwho owned the world and ruled over it.2. But nature has been rather cruel to this animal world for which actually, everything in the worldwas mean. Nature bestowed man with a developed brain that it did not develop in any other creature. This partiality of nature made him Homo Sapien. It was only man who could think and plan about his existence and welfare, polluting in the process, the land, the space and the seas that nature had made for all. His own creation may one day go against him. But now he owns the world and is the master of all that he surveys. He feels that all the creatures on the earth and even beyond the earth are meant for him.3. The ego of ownership has made man the most cruel animal in the world. He builds palatialbuildings and big cities on the abodes of small creatures like ants and other burrow dwellers.They are all meant to die for his facilities. 4. Nature made vegetation that is meant for all living beings. But man felt that all the animals aremeant for him. He killed elephant for its tusks, deer for its horns, a large number of animals for their hide for shoes, decoration and dresses. He killed musk deer to have the musk from its muskpod. He kills a large number of animals for his food. His number is increasing in such away that he will have no fear, ever of animals, owning the world again. 5. Man justifies his killing of animals by a strange theory. “One living being is the food of anotherliving creature". Who will remind him of the doomsday after which the animal world would claim back from man their due right and man may then become “meant” for animals!। On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer thequestions: The most suitable heading of the whole passage: |
Answer» Man's self IMPORTANCE |
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106. |
1. It is rather the self-importance of man that he thinks he owns this world. Theories have developedsince the very beginning of cultural and religious development on these lines. There is an Adam and Eve. There is an Adam and Hava. There is a Manu having brought life on this planet after pralaya. All religious preceptors have preached that the world is meant for man. They talk of communion between Man and God. But science has exploded such myths. It was not really so that man owned the world in the beginning. Man developed physically to the form as we find him now, over a period of time, at a very late stage. The planet started with micro life. There is a period of millions of years even between the existence of the micro life and the huge dinosaurwho owned the world and ruled over it.2. But nature has been rather cruel to this animal world for which actually, everything in the worldwas mean. Nature bestowed man with a developed brain that it did not develop in any other creature. This partiality of nature made him Homo Sapien. It was only man who could think and plan about his existence and welfare, polluting in the process, the land, the space and the seas that nature had made for all. His own creation may one day go against him. But now he owns the world and is the master of all that he surveys. He feels that all the creatures on the earth and even beyond the earth are meant for him.3. The ego of ownership has made man the most cruel animal in the world. He builds palatialbuildings and big cities on the abodes of small creatures like ants and other burrow dwellers.They are all meant to die for his facilities. 4. Nature made vegetation that is meant for all living beings. But man felt that all the animals aremeant for him. He killed elephant for its tusks, deer for its horns, a large number of animals for their hide for shoes, decoration and dresses. He killed musk deer to have the musk from its muskpod. He kills a large number of animals for his food. His number is increasing in such away that he will have no fear, ever of animals, owning the world again. 5. Man justifies his killing of animals by a strange theory. “One living being is the food of anotherliving creature". Who will remind him of the doomsday after which the animal world would claim back from man their due right and man may then become “meant” for animals!। On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer thequestions: Man developed to the form we find him now: |
Answer» in the very BEGINNING |
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107. |
Accidents in big cities is a common phenomenon. Unfortunately, hardly anyone comes to the rescue of road victims because of fear of harassment by the police. Now that the Supreme Court has issued guidelines that people who take road victims to a hospital will not be questioned or detained, there is no reason why bystanders/passersby should hesitate to help road victims and thus discharge their duty as responsible citizens. Write a letter to the Chief Traffic Police Officer, Kanpur requesting him/her to make people aware of Supreme Court guidelines and urge them to help people in distress. You are Shom/Shobha, 24, Raj Nagar, Kanpur. |
Answer» Solution :24, Raj NAGAR Kanpur 10 June 20XX The Chief Traffic Police Officer Civil Lines Kanpur Sub: Supreme Court.s guidelines for road victims Sir I wish to BRING to your notice how people are still not aware of the latest Supreme Court.s guidelines for road victims. It is a common sight to see road accident victims not getting prompt help by the passersby for fear of getting entangled in legal proceedings, which is painstaking and frustrating. Now the Supreme Court has brought some relief to the accident victims by issuing certain specific guidelines wherein the laws have been relaxed. Hence, now whosoever COMES forward to assist a road victim by taking him to the nearest MEDICAL centre or hospital for urgent medical TREATMENT, will not be questioned or detained. My sincere appeal to all is that in such situations one should come forward without any fear, and as a responsible citizen, help the road victims who need your mercy. Public awareness campaign in this regard by the local police is the need of the hour. Thanking You Yours sincerely Shom/Shobha |
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108. |
by giving ultimate/individual can transform everything/ expression to /the inner determinatiion of an/the infinite potential of human being |
Answer» Solution :By giving ULTIMATE EXPRESSION to the infinite potential of human being, the inner determination of an individual can TRANSFORM EVERYTHING. | |
109. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. as used in line 42, the word "extravagant" most closely means |
Answer» luxurious |
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110. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. lines 30-35 primarily illustrate descartes' thinking about |
Answer» the pitfalls of human perception |
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111. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. which option gives the best evidence for the answer to the previous question? |
Answer» lines 7-8 ("if I …sciences") |
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112. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. descartes' minimal threshold for dismissing a knowledge chaim is if it is |
Answer» completely in error |
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113. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. as used in line 10, the word "advanced" most closely means |
Answer» increasingly complex |
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114. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. descartes uses the phrase in lines 37-38, "so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors," to illustrate what he believes to be |
Answer» the RELIGIOUS source of demonic possission |
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115. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. which option gives the best evidenced for the answer to the previous question? |
Answer» lines 7-8 ("commencing…sciences") |
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116. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. the passage strongly implies that descartes believes that the structure of knowledge is best described as |
Answer» hierarchical |
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117. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. descartes uses lines 8-13 to express why |
Answer» he believes that the foundations for knowledge are ERROR ridden |
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118. |
Below is the beginning excerpt from Meditations on First Philosophy, by Rene Descartes, 1641, in which he muses about the nature of knowledge. MEDITATION I. of the Things of Which We May Now Doubt 1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such principles was highly doubtful, and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if l desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains for action. Today, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions), and since I am in the secure possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false-a point, perhaps, which I shall never reach, but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor, but, as the removal from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us, and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even once been deceived. 4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which it is manifestly impossible to doubt, as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in My hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty, or clothed lin gold) and purple when destitute of any covering: or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so extravagant. descartes' overall attitude towards knowledge as presented in the passage is best described as |
Answer» dogmatic |
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119. |
But Champaran …................. (a)…………………begin as …................. (b)………………… act of defiance. It grew out …................. (c)………………… an attempt to alleviate the distress of large numbers of poor peasants. This …................. (d)………………… the typical Gandhi pattern. …................. (e)………………… politics was intertwined …................. (f)………………… the practical day-to-day problems of millions. It was not a …................. (g)………………… to abstractions, it was a loyalty to …................. (h)………………… human beings. |
Answer» on |
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120. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: It is good to set our watch: |
Answer» 1-2 MINUTES AHEAD |
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121. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question:In order to reach our job in time: |
Answer» we should drive our VEHICLE fast |
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122. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: A person who always thinks positively is called: |
Answer» PESSIMIST |
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123. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: We sometimes get late only because we think that: |
Answer» we have no TIME |
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124. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: We shall disregard the time displayed by our clock when we set it: |
Answer» 1-2 MINUTES AHEAD |
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125. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: It is good to commit yourself ______for everything. |
Answer» SOLUTION : to being 15 MINUTES EARLY | |
126. |
1. Keep your watch accurate. For some people, moving up the time on their watch will help themget up earlier. For others, they will remember that the time on the watch is wrong and will disregard it altogether. It may be helpful to set your watch just two minutes ahead instead of five or ten.2. Keep a clock, phone, computer or anything that displays time in each room of your house. One ofthe easiest ways to run late is simply by not realising that the time is passing as quickly as it is. 3. Set all your clocks and watches to the same time. Don't be an optimist. Things usually takelonger than what you'd expect, even without major delays. If you have a dinner appointment at 7.30 p.m., don't think you can work till 7 p.m., then take a bath, dress and reach on time. Realistically, calculate the time you will take at each step and then add 10 minutes more toallow for unexpected delays, or you cannot get to your job in time. 4. Wake up when you are supposed to wake up. Don't hit the snooze button, keep on lying inbed, and watch TV at the very start of your day. May be try even setting your clock 10 minutes earlier than you need. If you have difficulty with this, move your alarm clock to somewhere away from your bed, that way, you have to get up to turn it off. Commit yourself to being 15 minutes early for everything. If you have to reach your place of work at 8.00, don't even tell yourself this. Just tell yourself (and everyone else who listens - but don't annoy them or make them think that they are late or early!) “I have to be at work at 7.45.” If you do this, you will be on time even with little unforeseen delays. You will be on time even with a traffic jam. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question:The passage focuses on: |
Answer» how to save time |
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127. |
1. On June 24, 1859, Emperors Napoleon III and Franz Joseph I engaged in the Battle of Solferino,commanding a combined total of about 270,000 troops onto the field for a single day of battle. Nearly 40,000 were either dead, injured, or missing, many of whom were simply left to die on the battlefield. Later, spectators crowded the fields, looking for loved ones, searching for items they could sell, or simply taking in the horrors of the battle. A Swiss businessman andsocial activist Jean Henri Dunant, who was travelling in Solferino witnessed all this. 2. Jean Henri Dunant witnessed the atrocities of war as well as the countries not prepared orequipped to ease the suffering of those who had been injured in the Battle of Solferino. Dunant organised a group of volunteers to help bring water and food to the injured, to assist with medical treatment, or write letters to the families of those who were dying and he urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. After that moment, he wrote the book, A Memory of Solferino, which urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. His writing inspired countless others torally behind him in the creation of the International Federation of the Red Cross.3. The modern-day Red Cross began by Devoting itself largely to disaster relief and epidemictreatment. This effort continues to this day. One of the easiest ways you can help the Red Cross is to make sure you are able to donate blood and make an appointment at the Red Cross website. But, donating blood isn't the only way you can help out-the Red Cross also encourages donating your time if you can. This is what the Red Cross wants everyone to know. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: The writer of A Memory of Solferino’ was: |
Answer» Solution : Jean Henri Dunant | |
128. |
1. On June 24, 1859, Emperors Napoleon III and Franz Joseph I engaged in the Battle of Solferino,commanding a combined total of about 270,000 troops onto the field for a single day of battle. Nearly 40,000 were either dead, injured, or missing, many of whom were simply left to die on the battlefield. Later, spectators crowded the fields, looking for loved ones, searching for items they could sell, or simply taking in the horrors of the battle. A Swiss businessman andsocial activist Jean Henri Dunant, who was travelling in Solferino witnessed all this. 2. Jean Henri Dunant witnessed the atrocities of war as well as the countries not prepared orequipped to ease the suffering of those who had been injured in the Battle of Solferino. Dunant organised a group of volunteers to help bring water and food to the injured, to assist with medical treatment, or write letters to the families of those who were dying and he urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. After that moment, he wrote the book, A Memory of Solferino, which urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. His writing inspired countless others torally behind him in the creation of the International Federation of the Red Cross.3. The modern-day Red Cross began by Devoting itself largely to disaster relief and epidemictreatment. This effort continues to this day. One of the easiest ways you can help the Red Cross is to make sure you are able to donate blood and make an appointment at the Red Cross website. But, donating blood isn't the only way you can help out-the Red Cross also encourages donating your time if you can. This is what the Red Cross wants everyone to know. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: What is the correct order of the information given below? |
Answer» Dunant organised a camp of volunteers. |
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129. |
1. On June 24, 1859, Emperors Napoleon III and Franz Joseph I engaged in the Battle of Solferino,commanding a combined total of about 270,000 troops onto the field for a single day of battle. Nearly 40,000 were either dead, injured, or missing, many of whom were simply left to die on the battlefield. Later, spectators crowded the fields, looking for loved ones, searching for items they could sell, or simply taking in the horrors of the battle. A Swiss businessman andsocial activist Jean Henri Dunant, who was travelling in Solferino witnessed all this. 2. Jean Henri Dunant witnessed the atrocities of war as well as the countries not prepared orequipped to ease the suffering of those who had been injured in the Battle of Solferino. Dunant organised a group of volunteers to help bring water and food to the injured, to assist with medical treatment, or write letters to the families of those who were dying and he urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. After that moment, he wrote the book, A Memory of Solferino, which urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. His writing inspired countless others torally behind him in the creation of the International Federation of the Red Cross.3. The modern-day Red Cross began by Devoting itself largely to disaster relief and epidemictreatment. This effort continues to this day. One of the easiest ways you can help the Red Cross is to make sure you are able to donate blood and make an appointment at the Red Cross website. But, donating blood isn't the only way you can help out-the Red Cross also encourages donating your time if you can. This is what the Red Cross wants everyone to know. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: The aid provided by Dunant's volunteers during the battle of Solferino was:(i) to help bring water and food to the injured (ii) to assist with medical treatment (iii) to write a book(iv) to give relief in epidemic |
Answer» (i) and (III) |
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130. |
1. On June 24, 1859, Emperors Napoleon III and Franz Joseph I engaged in the Battle of Solferino,commanding a combined total of about 270,000 troops onto the field for a single day of battle. Nearly 40,000 were either dead, injured, or missing, many of whom were simply left to die on the battlefield. Later, spectators crowded the fields, looking for loved ones, searching for items they could sell, or simply taking in the horrors of the battle. A Swiss businessman andsocial activist Jean Henri Dunant, who was travelling in Solferino witnessed all this. 2. Jean Henri Dunant witnessed the atrocities of war as well as the countries not prepared orequipped to ease the suffering of those who had been injured in the Battle of Solferino. Dunant organised a group of volunteers to help bring water and food to the injured, to assist with medical treatment, or write letters to the families of those who were dying and he urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. After that moment, he wrote the book, A Memory of Solferino, which urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. His writing inspired countless others torally behind him in the creation of the International Federation of the Red Cross.3. The modern-day Red Cross began by Devoting itself largely to disaster relief and epidemictreatment. This effort continues to this day. One of the easiest ways you can help the Red Cross is to make sure you are able to donate blood and make an appointment at the Red Cross website. But, donating blood isn't the only way you can help out-the Red Cross also encourages donating your time if you can. This is what the Red Cross wants everyone to know. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question:The most appropriate sub-heading to para 2 of the passage is: |
Answer» How INTERNATIONAL RED Cross Evolved |
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131. |
1. On June 24, 1859, Emperors Napoleon III and Franz Joseph I engaged in the Battle of Solferino,commanding a combined total of about 270,000 troops onto the field for a single day of battle. Nearly 40,000 were either dead, injured, or missing, many of whom were simply left to die on the battlefield. Later, spectators crowded the fields, looking for loved ones, searching for items they could sell, or simply taking in the horrors of the battle. A Swiss businessman andsocial activist Jean Henri Dunant, who was travelling in Solferino witnessed all this. 2. Jean Henri Dunant witnessed the atrocities of war as well as the countries not prepared orequipped to ease the suffering of those who had been injured in the Battle of Solferino. Dunant organised a group of volunteers to help bring water and food to the injured, to assist with medical treatment, or write letters to the families of those who were dying and he urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. After that moment, he wrote the book, A Memory of Solferino, which urged the public to create an organisation which would assist the wounded, regardless of which side they fought for during times of war. His writing inspired countless others torally behind him in the creation of the International Federation of the Red Cross.3. The modern-day Red Cross began by Devoting itself largely to disaster relief and epidemictreatment. This effort continues to this day. One of the easiest ways you can help the Red Cross is to make sure you are able to donate blood and make an appointment at the Red Cross website. But, donating blood isn't the only way you can help out-the Red Cross also encourages donating your time if you can. This is what the Red Cross wants everyone to know. On the basis of your reading of the above passage answer the question: The modern day Red Cross does not deal with: |
Answer» BLOOD donation |
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132. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 2. The passage is generally organized |
Answer» from most to least important details |
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133. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 1. The passage can best be summarized as witch one of the following statement? |
Answer» A boy has interesting interactions at an old woman's house and reflects on these experiences. |
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134. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 4. As used in line 12, the word "resting" most closely means |
Answer» suppressing |
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135. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 3. The second paragraph (lines 3-7) serves to explain |
Answer» why PIP wanted to be a gentleman |
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136. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 5. What best describes miss havisham's appearance? |
Answer» Typical |
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137. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 7. How does pip feel about his current social and economic circumstances? |
Answer» Dissatisfied |
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138. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 6. Which option gives the best evidence for the answer to the previous question? |
Answer» Lines 3-4 ("My… BARRED") |
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139. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 10. As used in line 46, the word "afflicted" most closely means |
Answer» diseased |
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140. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 9. The Paragraph in lines 39-41 highlights pip's feeling |
Answer» a sense of belonging |
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141. |
Charles Dickens's Great expectations ws first published in 1861. pip, apoor orphan who is cared for by his sister and her husband, meets the young girl who will become the lifetime object of his affections while simultaneously becoming aware of his lowly position in the caste system. I must have been about ten years old when I went to miss havisham's, and first met Estella. My uncle pumblechook, who kept a cornchandler's shop in the high-street of the line town, took me to the large old, dismal house, which had all its windows barred. For miles round everybody had heard of miss havisham as an immensely rich and grim lady who led a life of seclusion, and everybody soon knew that Mr. pumblechook had been commissioned to bring her a boy. He left me at the courtyard, and a young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud, let me in, and I noticed that the passages were all dark, and that there was a candle burning. My guide, who called me "boy," but was really about my own age, was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. She led me to miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials-satins and lace and silks-all of white-or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow. Her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress. "who is it?" said the lady at the table. "pip, ma'am. Mr. pumblechook's boy." "come nearer: let me look at you, come close. You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" "No, ma'am." "do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side. "yes, ma'am: your heart." "broken!" she was silent for a little while, and then added, "I am tired, I want diversion. play, play, play!" what was an unfortunate boy to do? I didn't know how to play. "call Estella," said the lady. "call Estella, at the door." It was a dreadful thing to be bawling "estella" to a scornful young lady in a mystrious passage in an unknown house, but I had to do it. And Estella came, and I heard her say, in answer to miss havisham, "Play with this boy! why, he is a common labouring boy!" I thought I overheard miss havisham answer, "well? you can break his heart." we played at beggar my neighbour, and before the game was out Estella said disdainfully, "he calls the knaves jacks, this boy! and what coarse hands he has! and what thick boots!" I was very glad to get away. My coarse hands and my common boots had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, and i determined to ask joe why he had taught me to call those picture cards jacks which ought to be called knaves. for a long time i went once a week to this strange, gloomy house-it was called satis house-and once estella told me I might kiss her. and then miss havisham decided I was to be apprenticed to joe, and gave him £25 for the purpose, and i left off going to see her, and helped joe in the forge. But i didn't like joe's trade, and i was afflicted by that most miserable thing-to feel ashamed of home. I couldn't resist paying miss havisham a visit, and, not seeing estella, stammered that i hoped she was well. "abroad," said miss havisham, "educating for a lady, far out of reach, prettier than ever,admired by all who see her. do you feel that you have lost her?" I was spared the trouble of answering by being dismissed, and went home dissatisfied and uncomfortable, thinking myslef coarse and common, and wanting to be a gentleman. 8. Which option gives the best evedence for the answer to the previous question? |
Answer» Lines 8-10 ("He left…burning") |
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142. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 2. Lines 1-3 (" Amory.... while") most strongly suggest that |
Answer» amory and his mother share many UNFAVORABLE qualities |
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143. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q). 1 Beatrice is best characterized as |
Answer» PRIVILEGED and eccentric |
|
144. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 3. The style of the second paragraph (line 22-49) is generally |
Answer» educational and moreose |
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145. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 5. The passage implies that beatrice married stephen for what reason? |
Answer» TRUE love |
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146. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 4. As used in line 31, theword" passed" most closely means |
Answer» spent |
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147. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her (Q) 8. Which option gives the best evidence for the answer to the previous question? |
Answer» Lines 15-21(" For.. . Her" ) |
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148. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 7. Amory's upbringing and education can best be described as |
Answer» demanding |
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149. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her.(Q) 6. Which option gives thebest evidence for the answer to the previous question |
Answer» Lines 3-10 (" his FATHER … O' Hara" ) |
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150. |
Amory blaine inherite from his mother every trait, exept the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, line an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for byron and a habit of drowsing over the encyclopedia britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar harbor and met beatrice O ' hara. In consequence, stephen blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son amory. for many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair, continually occupied in taking care of his wife, continually harassed by the indea that he didn't and couldn't understander her. But Beartice blaine there was a woman early pictures taken on her fater's eastate at lake geneva, Wisconsin or in Rome at the sacrd heart convent _an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally welthy showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had _ her youth passaed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of trhe older Roman families, known by name as a fabulously wealthy american girl to cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whickey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broad ended in two senses during a winter in vienna. All in all beatrice O hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again, a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about, a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud. In her less important moments she returned to America, met stephen blaine and married him_ this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day ininety _six. when amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative maind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her fathers private car, from coronado, where f=his mother became so bord that she had nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel down to Mexico city. where she took a mild, almost spidemic cosumption. this trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere- especially after several astounding bracers. So while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at newport, or being spanked or tutored or reqd to from " Do and Dare, " or " Frank on the Mississippi, " Amory was biting acquiescent bell -boys in the waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly special ized education froj his mother amory" " Yes, beatrice. " Such a quaint name for his mother, she encouraged it. dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes on nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up." " All right." I am feeling very old to day, amory, she would sigh, her face a rare coameo of pathos, her voice exquisityely modulated, her hands as facile as bernhardt's my nerves are on edge- on edge. We must leave this terrifying place to morrow and go searching for sunchine." Amory's penetrating gre3en eyes would look out through tangled hair at his m other even at this age he had no illusions about her. (Q) 10. Amory's relationship with his mother is |
Answer» traditionally pious |
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