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Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.
Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.
Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.
The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.
From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.
Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.
When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.
Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?
- a)Philosophical and motivational
- b)Subjective and contemplative
- c)Subjective and optimistic
- d)Narrative and analytical
Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?
Most Upvoted Answer
Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the quest...
A is incorrect as although the author is philosophical, he does not seek to motivate or inspire his readers. Rather he simply narrates his experiences and contemplates them in a philosophical light. C is incorrect as the author neither expresses optimism nor pessimism in the passage, although he is subjective. D is incorrect as although the author's tone is narrative, it is not analytical; he does not analyse anything. B is the right answer, as the author is being both subjective, i.e. talking of his own experiences and views, and contemplative, i.e. thinking deeply about bigger issues.
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Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?
Question Description
Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? for CAT 2025 is part of CAT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the CAT exam syllabus. Information about Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for CAT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?.
Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? for CAT 2025 is part of CAT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the CAT exam syllabus. Information about Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for CAT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?.
Solutions for Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for CAT.
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Here you can find the meaning of Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of
Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an
ample number of questions to practice Direction: Read the following passage carefully, and answer the questions that follow.Looking down at the planet from 200 miles in space, I feel as though I know the Earth in an intimate way most people don't - the coastlines, terrains, mountains, and rivers. Some parts of the world, especially in Asia, are so blanketed by air pollution that they appear sick, in need of treatment or at least a chance to heal. The line of our atmosphere on the horizon looks as thin as a contact lens over an eye, and its fragility seems to demand our protection. One of my favourite views of Earth is of the Bahamas, a large archipelago with a stunning contrast from light to dark colours. The vibrant deep blue of the ocean mixes with a much brighter turquoise, swirled with something almost like gold, where the sun bounces off the shallow sand and reefs. Whenever new crewmates come up to the International Space Station, I always make a point of taking them to the Cupola - a module made entirely of windows looking down on Earth - to see the Bahamas. That sight always reminds me to stop and appreciate the view of Earth I have the privilege of experiencing.Sometimes when I'm looking out the window it occurs to me that everything that matters to me, every person who has ever lived and died (minus our crew of six) is down there. Other times, of course, I'm aware that the people on the station with me are the whole of humanity for me now. If I'm going to talk to someone in the flesh, look someone in the eye, ask someone for help, share a meal with someone, it will be one of the five people up here with me.The station is sometimes described as an object: "The International Space Station is the most expensive object ever created." "The ISS is the only object whose components were manufactured by different countries and assembled in space." That much is true. But it doesn't feel like an object to me. It feels like a place, a very specific place with its own personality and its own unique characteristics. It has an inside and an outside and rooms upon rooms, each of which has different purposes, its own equipment and hardware, and its own feeling and smell, distinct from the others. Each module has its own story and its own quirks.From the outside the ISS looks like a number of giant empty soda cans attached to each other end to end. Roughly the size of a football field, the station is made up of five modules connected the long way - three American and two Russian. More modules, including ones from Europe and Japan as well as the United States, are connected as offshoots to port and starboard, and the Russians have three that are attached "up" and "down" (we call these directions zenith and nadir). Between my first time visiting the space station and this mission, it has grown by seven modules, a significant proportion of its volume. This growth is not haphazard but reflects an assembly sequence that had been planned since the beginning of the space station project in the 1990s.Dressed and ready for breakfast, I open the door to my quarters. As I push against the back wall to float myself out, I accidentally kick loose a paperback book: Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage, by Alfred Lansing. I brought this book with me on my previous flight as well, and sometimes I flip through it after a long day on the station and reflect on what these explorers went through almost exactly a hundred years before. They were stranded on ice floes for months at a time, forced to kill their dogs for food, and nearly froze to death in the biting cold. They hiked across mountains that had been considered impassable by explorers who were better equipped and not half-starved. Most remarkable, not a single member of the expedition was lost.When I try to put myself in their place, I think the uncertainty must have been the worst thing. They must have wondered if they could survive, and that doubt must have been worse than the hunger and the cold. When I read about their experiences, I think about how much harder they had it than I do. Sometimes I'll pick up the book specifically for that reason. If I'm inclined to feel sorry for myself because I miss my family or because I had a frustrating day or because the isolation is getting to me, reading a few pages about the Shackleton expedition reminds me that even if I have it hard up here in some ways, I'm certainly not going through what they did. It's all about perspective. I tuck the book back in with a few other personal items. Maybe I'll read a few pages before I go to sleep tonight.Q. Which of the following best describe the tone of the passage?a)Philosophical and motivationalb)Subjective and contemplativec)Subjective and optimisticd)Narrative and analyticalCorrect answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? tests, examples and also practice CAT tests.
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