TEXT C I cry easily. I once burst into tears when the curtain came down on the Kirov Ballets "Swan Lake". I still choke up every time I see a film of Roger Bannister breaking the "impossible" four minute mark for the mile. I figure I am moved by witnessing men and women at their best. But they need not be great men and women, doing great things. Take the night, some years ago, when my wife and I were going to dinner at a friends house in New York city. It was sleeting. As we hurried toward the house, with its welcoming light, I noticed a car pulling out from the curb. Just ahead, another car was waiting to back into the parking space —— a rare commodity in crowded Manhattan. But before he could do so another car came up from behind, and sneaked into the spot. Thats dirty pool, I thought. While my wife went ahead into our friends house. I stepped into the street to give the guilty driver a piece of my mind. A man in work clothes rolled down the window. "Hey," I said, "this parking space belongs to that guy," I gestured toward the man ahead, who was looking back angrily. I thought I was being a good Samaritan, I guess —— and I remember that the moment I was feeling pretty manly in my new trench coat. "Mind your own business!" the driver told me. "No," I said. "You dont understand. That fellow was waiting to back into this space." Things quickly heated up, until finally he leaped out of the car. My God, he was colossal. He grabbed me and bent me back over the hood of his car as if I was a rag doll. The sleet stung my face. I glanced at the other driver, looking for help, but he gunned his engine and hightailed it out of there. The huge man shook his rock of a fist of me, brushing my lip and cutting the inside of my mouth against my teeth. I tasted blood. I was terrified. He snarled and threatened, and then told me to beat it. Almost in a panic, I scrambled to my friends front door. As a former Marine, as a man, I felt utterly humiliated. Seeing that I was shaken, my wife and friends asked me what had happened. All I could bring myself to say was that I had had an argument about a parking space. They had the sensitivity to let it go at that. I sat stunned. Perhaps half an hour later, the doorbell rang. My blood ran cold. For some reason I was sure that the bruiser had returned for me. My hostess got up to answer it, but I stopped her. I felt morally bound to answer it myself. I walked down the hallway with dread. Yet I knew I had to face up to my fear. I opened the door. There he stood, towering. Behind him, the sleet came down harder than ever. "I came back to apologize," he said in a low voice. "When I got home, I said to myself, what right I have to do that? Im ashamed of myself. All I can tell you is that the Brooklyn Navy Yard is closing. Ive worked there for years. And today I got laid off. Im not myself. I hope youll accept my apology." I often remember that big man. I think of the effort and courage it took for him to come back to apologize. He was man at last. And I remember that after I closed the door, my eyes blurred, as I stood in the hallway for a few moments alone.
42. On what occasion is the author likely to be moved?
A) A young person cheated of the best things in life.
B) A genius athlete breaks a world record.
C) A little girl suffers from an incurable disease.
D) When the curtain comes down on a touching play.
43. What does "dirty pool" at the end of the second paragraph mean?
A) Improper deeds
B) Bribery
C) Chicanery
D) Dirty transaction
44. Why didn't the writer's wife and friends ask him what had happened?
A) They sensed that something terrible happened, they didn't dare to ask.
B) They were afraid that the writer might lose face if they asked.
C) They'd like to let it be for it was not their business.
D) They tried to calm the writer in this way.
45. What touched the writer in the end?
A) The big man's courage to admit his mistake.
B) The big man's sincerity and confession.
C) The big man's wretched experience.
D) The man at his best.
Text D It used to be said that English people take their pleasure sadly. No doubt this would still be true if they had any pleasure to take, but the price of alcohol and tobacco in my country has provided sufficient external causes for melancholy. I have sometimes thought that the habit of taking pleasure sadly has crossed the Atlantic, and I have wondered what it is that makes so many English-speaking people somber in their outlook in spite of good health and a good income. In the course of my travels in the American I have been impressed by a kind of fundamental malaise which seems to me extremely common and which poses difficult problems for the social reformer. Most social reformers have held the opinion that, if poverty were abolished and there were no more economic insecurity, the millennium would have arrived. But when I look at the face of people in opulent cars, whether in your country or in mine, I do not see that look of radiant happiness which the aforesaid social reformers had led me to expect. In nine cases out of ten, I see instead a look of boredom and discontent and an almost frantic longing for something that might tickle the jaded palate. But it is not only the very rich who suffer in this way. Professional men very frequently feel hopeless thwarted. There is something that they long to do or some public object that they long to work for. But if they were to indulge their wishes in these respects, they fear that they would lose their livelihood. Their wives are equally unsatisfied , for their neighbor, Mrs. So-and-So, has gone ahead more quickly, has a better car, a larger apartment and grander friends. Life for almost everybody is a long competitive struggle where very few can win the race, and those who do not win are unhappy. On social occasions when it is de rigueur to seem cheerful, the necessary demeanor is stimulated by alcohol. But the gaiety does not ring true and anybody who has just one drink too many is apt to lapse into lachrymose melancholy. One finds this sort of thing only among English-speaking people. A Frenchman while he is abusing the Government is as gay as a lark. So is an Italian while he is telling you how his neighbor has swindled him. Mexicans, when they are not actually starving or actually being murdered, sing ad dance and enjoy sunshine and food and drink with a gusto which is very rare north of the Mexican frontier. When Andrew Jackson conquered Pensacola from the Spaniards, it was Sunday. She pointed out the scandal to her husband, who decreed that cheerfulness must cease forthwith. And it did. When I try to understand what it is that prevents so many American from being as happy as one might expect, it seems to me that there are two causes, of which one goes much deeper than the other. The one that goes least deep is the necessity for subservience in some large organization. If you are an energetic man with strong views as to the right way of doing the job with which you are concerned, you find yourself invariable under the orders of some big man at the top who is elderly, weary and cynical. Whenever you have a bright idea, the boss puts a stopper on it. The more energetic you are and the more vision you have, the more you will suffer from the impossibility of doing any of the things that you feel ought to be done. When you go home and moan to your wife, she tells you that you are a silly fellow and that if you became the proper sort of yes—— man your income would soon be doubled. If you try divorce and remarriage it is very unlikely that there will be any change in this respect. And so you are condemned to gastric ulcers and premature old age. It was not always so. When Dr. Johnson complied his dictionary, he compiled it as he thought fit. When he felt like saying that oats is food for men in Scotland and horses in England, he said so. When he defined a fishing-rod as a stick with a fish at one end and a fool at the other, there was nobody to point out to him that a remark of this sort would damage the sale of his great work among fishermen. But if, in the present day, you are (let us say) a contributor to an encyclopedia, there is an editorial policy which is solemn, wise, and prudent, which allows no room for jokes, no place for personal preferences and no tolerance for idiosyncrasies. Everything has to be flattened out except where the prejudices of the editor are concerned. To these you must conform, however, little you may share them. And so you have to be content with dollars instead of creative satisfaction. And the dollars, alas, leave you sad. This brings me to major cause of unhappiness, which is that most people in America act not on impulse but on some principle, and that principles upon which people act are usually faxed upon a false psychology and a false ethic. There is a general theory as to what makes for happiness and this theory is false. Life is concerned as a competitive struggle in which felicity consists in getting ahead of your neighbor. The joys which are not competitive are forgotten. Now, I will not for a moment deny that getting ahead of your neighbor is delightful, but it is not the only delight of which human beings are capable. There are innumerable things which are not competitive. It is possible to enjoy food and drink without having to reflect that you have a better cook and better wine merchant than your former friends whom you are learning to cold-shoulder. It is possible to be fond of your wife and your children without reflecting how much better she dressed than Mrs. So-and-So and how much better they are at athletic than the children of that old stick-in-the-mud Mr. Such-and-Such. There are those who can enjoy music without thinking how cultured other ladies in their womens club will be thinking them. There are even people who can enjoy a fine day in spite of the fact that the sun shines on everybody. All these simple pleasures are destroyed as soon as competitiveness gets the upper hand. But it is not only competitiveness that is the trouble. I could imagine a person who has turned against competitiveness and can only enjoy after conscious rejection of the competitive element. Such a person, seeing the sunshine in the morning, says to himself, "Yes, I may enjoy this and indeed I must, for it is a joy open to all." And however bored he may become with the sunshine he goes on persuading himself that he is enjoying it because he thinks he ought to. "But," you will ask, "are you maintaining that our actions ought to be governed by moral principles?" Are you suggesting that every whim and every impulse should be given free rein? Do you consider that if So-and-Sos nose annoys you by being too long, that gives you a right to tweak it?" "Sir," you will continue with indignation," your doctrine is one which would uproot all the sources of morality and loosen all the bonds which hold society together. Only self-restraint, self-repression, iron self-control make it possible to endure the abominable beings among whom we have to live, No, sir! Better misery and gastric ulcers than such chaos as your doctrine would produce. I will admit at once that there is force in this objection. I have seen many noses that I should have liked to tweak, but never once have I yielded to the impulse. But this, like everything else, is a matter of degree. If you always yield to impulse, you are mad. If you never yield to impulse, you gradually dry up and very likely become mad to boot. In a life which is to be healthy and happy, impulse, though mot allowed to run riot, must have sufficient scope to remain alive and to preserve that variety and diversity of interest which is natural to a human being. A life lived on a principle, no matter what, is too narrowly determined, too systematic and uniform, to be happy. However much you care about success, you should have times when you are merely enjoying life without a thought of subsequence. However proud you may be, as president of a womens club, of your impeccable culture, you should not be ashamed of reading a low-brow book if you want to. A life which is all principle is a life on rail. The rails may help toward rapid locomotion, but preclude the joy of wandering. Man spent some million years wandering before he invented rails, and his happiness still demands some reminiscence of the earlier ages of freedom.
46. In the writer's opinion, in England alcohol and tobacco may ____.
A) make people indulge in pleasures
B) lead to despondency
C) pose touchy problems for social reformers
D) throw a heavy burden on the country's welfare program
47. What opinions do most social reformers hold?
A) Once poverty were rooted out, people would really enjoy their lives
B) If economic security were obtained, one would grow fidgety and berserk.
C) An ideal society is the one in which all the people were no longer afraid of poverty.
D) Great happiness and human perfection could be arrived at if and only if people learned to be content.
48. Who are easy to feel melancholy according to the writer?
A) Mexicans
B) professional
C) English-speaking people
D) B and C
49. What is the man cause of unhappiness for many Americans in the writer's view?
A) Life is a long competitive struggle, very few lucky people can win the race and attain happiness.
B) Lack of freedom and stimuli makes people unsatisfied with life.
C) People tend to act on dubious principles.
D) People's obsession of getting ahead of their neighbors.
50. What solution does the writer suggest to dispel melancholy mood?
A) cultivate wide interest
B) balance impulse and principle
C) strive for success and enjoy its gain
D) A and B
42. On what occasion is the author likely to be moved?
A) A young person cheated of the best things in life.
B) A genius athlete breaks a world record.
C) A little girl suffers from an incurable disease.
D) When the curtain comes down on a touching play.
43. What does "dirty pool" at the end of the second paragraph mean?
A) Improper deeds
B) Bribery
C) Chicanery
D) Dirty transaction
44. Why didn't the writer's wife and friends ask him what had happened?
A) They sensed that something terrible happened, they didn't dare to ask.
B) They were afraid that the writer might lose face if they asked.
C) They'd like to let it be for it was not their business.
D) They tried to calm the writer in this way.
45. What touched the writer in the end?
A) The big man's courage to admit his mistake.
B) The big man's sincerity and confession.
C) The big man's wretched experience.
D) The man at his best.
Text D It used to be said that English people take their pleasure sadly. No doubt this would still be true if they had any pleasure to take, but the price of alcohol and tobacco in my country has provided sufficient external causes for melancholy. I have sometimes thought that the habit of taking pleasure sadly has crossed the Atlantic, and I have wondered what it is that makes so many English-speaking people somber in their outlook in spite of good health and a good income. In the course of my travels in the American I have been impressed by a kind of fundamental malaise which seems to me extremely common and which poses difficult problems for the social reformer. Most social reformers have held the opinion that, if poverty were abolished and there were no more economic insecurity, the millennium would have arrived. But when I look at the face of people in opulent cars, whether in your country or in mine, I do not see that look of radiant happiness which the aforesaid social reformers had led me to expect. In nine cases out of ten, I see instead a look of boredom and discontent and an almost frantic longing for something that might tickle the jaded palate. But it is not only the very rich who suffer in this way. Professional men very frequently feel hopeless thwarted. There is something that they long to do or some public object that they long to work for. But if they were to indulge their wishes in these respects, they fear that they would lose their livelihood. Their wives are equally unsatisfied , for their neighbor, Mrs. So-and-So, has gone ahead more quickly, has a better car, a larger apartment and grander friends. Life for almost everybody is a long competitive struggle where very few can win the race, and those who do not win are unhappy. On social occasions when it is de rigueur to seem cheerful, the necessary demeanor is stimulated by alcohol. But the gaiety does not ring true and anybody who has just one drink too many is apt to lapse into lachrymose melancholy. One finds this sort of thing only among English-speaking people. A Frenchman while he is abusing the Government is as gay as a lark. So is an Italian while he is telling you how his neighbor has swindled him. Mexicans, when they are not actually starving or actually being murdered, sing ad dance and enjoy sunshine and food and drink with a gusto which is very rare north of the Mexican frontier. When Andrew Jackson conquered Pensacola from the Spaniards, it was Sunday. She pointed out the scandal to her husband, who decreed that cheerfulness must cease forthwith. And it did. When I try to understand what it is that prevents so many American from being as happy as one might expect, it seems to me that there are two causes, of which one goes much deeper than the other. The one that goes least deep is the necessity for subservience in some large organization. If you are an energetic man with strong views as to the right way of doing the job with which you are concerned, you find yourself invariable under the orders of some big man at the top who is elderly, weary and cynical. Whenever you have a bright idea, the boss puts a stopper on it. The more energetic you are and the more vision you have, the more you will suffer from the impossibility of doing any of the things that you feel ought to be done. When you go home and moan to your wife, she tells you that you are a silly fellow and that if you became the proper sort of yes—— man your income would soon be doubled. If you try divorce and remarriage it is very unlikely that there will be any change in this respect. And so you are condemned to gastric ulcers and premature old age. It was not always so. When Dr. Johnson complied his dictionary, he compiled it as he thought fit. When he felt like saying that oats is food for men in Scotland and horses in England, he said so. When he defined a fishing-rod as a stick with a fish at one end and a fool at the other, there was nobody to point out to him that a remark of this sort would damage the sale of his great work among fishermen. But if, in the present day, you are (let us say) a contributor to an encyclopedia, there is an editorial policy which is solemn, wise, and prudent, which allows no room for jokes, no place for personal preferences and no tolerance for idiosyncrasies. Everything has to be flattened out except where the prejudices of the editor are concerned. To these you must conform, however, little you may share them. And so you have to be content with dollars instead of creative satisfaction. And the dollars, alas, leave you sad. This brings me to major cause of unhappiness, which is that most people in America act not on impulse but on some principle, and that principles upon which people act are usually faxed upon a false psychology and a false ethic. There is a general theory as to what makes for happiness and this theory is false. Life is concerned as a competitive struggle in which felicity consists in getting ahead of your neighbor. The joys which are not competitive are forgotten. Now, I will not for a moment deny that getting ahead of your neighbor is delightful, but it is not the only delight of which human beings are capable. There are innumerable things which are not competitive. It is possible to enjoy food and drink without having to reflect that you have a better cook and better wine merchant than your former friends whom you are learning to cold-shoulder. It is possible to be fond of your wife and your children without reflecting how much better she dressed than Mrs. So-and-So and how much better they are at athletic than the children of that old stick-in-the-mud Mr. Such-and-Such. There are those who can enjoy music without thinking how cultured other ladies in their womens club will be thinking them. There are even people who can enjoy a fine day in spite of the fact that the sun shines on everybody. All these simple pleasures are destroyed as soon as competitiveness gets the upper hand. But it is not only competitiveness that is the trouble. I could imagine a person who has turned against competitiveness and can only enjoy after conscious rejection of the competitive element. Such a person, seeing the sunshine in the morning, says to himself, "Yes, I may enjoy this and indeed I must, for it is a joy open to all." And however bored he may become with the sunshine he goes on persuading himself that he is enjoying it because he thinks he ought to. "But," you will ask, "are you maintaining that our actions ought to be governed by moral principles?" Are you suggesting that every whim and every impulse should be given free rein? Do you consider that if So-and-Sos nose annoys you by being too long, that gives you a right to tweak it?" "Sir," you will continue with indignation," your doctrine is one which would uproot all the sources of morality and loosen all the bonds which hold society together. Only self-restraint, self-repression, iron self-control make it possible to endure the abominable beings among whom we have to live, No, sir! Better misery and gastric ulcers than such chaos as your doctrine would produce. I will admit at once that there is force in this objection. I have seen many noses that I should have liked to tweak, but never once have I yielded to the impulse. But this, like everything else, is a matter of degree. If you always yield to impulse, you are mad. If you never yield to impulse, you gradually dry up and very likely become mad to boot. In a life which is to be healthy and happy, impulse, though mot allowed to run riot, must have sufficient scope to remain alive and to preserve that variety and diversity of interest which is natural to a human being. A life lived on a principle, no matter what, is too narrowly determined, too systematic and uniform, to be happy. However much you care about success, you should have times when you are merely enjoying life without a thought of subsequence. However proud you may be, as president of a womens club, of your impeccable culture, you should not be ashamed of reading a low-brow book if you want to. A life which is all principle is a life on rail. The rails may help toward rapid locomotion, but preclude the joy of wandering. Man spent some million years wandering before he invented rails, and his happiness still demands some reminiscence of the earlier ages of freedom.
46. In the writer's opinion, in England alcohol and tobacco may ____.
A) make people indulge in pleasures
B) lead to despondency
C) pose touchy problems for social reformers
D) throw a heavy burden on the country's welfare program
47. What opinions do most social reformers hold?
A) Once poverty were rooted out, people would really enjoy their lives
B) If economic security were obtained, one would grow fidgety and berserk.
C) An ideal society is the one in which all the people were no longer afraid of poverty.
D) Great happiness and human perfection could be arrived at if and only if people learned to be content.
48. Who are easy to feel melancholy according to the writer?
A) Mexicans
B) professional
C) English-speaking people
D) B and C
49. What is the man cause of unhappiness for many Americans in the writer's view?
A) Life is a long competitive struggle, very few lucky people can win the race and attain happiness.
B) Lack of freedom and stimuli makes people unsatisfied with life.
C) People tend to act on dubious principles.
D) People's obsession of getting ahead of their neighbors.
50. What solution does the writer suggest to dispel melancholy mood?
A) cultivate wide interest
B) balance impulse and principle
C) strive for success and enjoy its gain
D) A and B