Table of contents |
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The Merchant of Venice |
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Life Choices |
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Making Decisions |
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Top 10 ways to make better decisions |
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Language focus |
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A dangerous decision |
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Impossible choices |
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Different views |
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In William Shakespeare’s *The Merchant of Venice*, a captivating test of wit and heart unfolds as Portia, a wealthy heiress, faces suitors vying for her hand through a challenge set by her late father. Each suitor must choose one of three caskets—gold, silver, or lead—guided by cryptic riddles: the gold promises “what many men desire,” the silver offers “as much as he deserves,” and the lead demands one “give and hazard all he has.” The correct choice reveals Portia’s picture and a scroll, granting her hand. The Prince of Morocco, dazzled by wealth, selects the gold casket, expecting an angel within, but finds a scroll warning, “All that glitters is not gold,” revealing his shallow pursuit of riches. The Prince of Aragon, brimming with self-assured entitlement, chooses the silver casket, believing he deserves Portia, only to uncover a portrait of a fool and a scroll mocking his arrogance. Bassanio, driven by genuine love yet tormented by the risk, hesitates at Portia’s urging to delay. Choosing the lead casket, he finds Portia’s picture and a scroll praising his true heart: “You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair and choose as true!” Their mutual love triumphs, proving that sincerity outweighs superficial desires.
Robert Frost’s poem *The Road Not Taken* weaves a reflective tale of a traveler standing at a fork in a yellow wood, faced with two diverging paths. Long he stands, peering down one road until it bends into the undergrowth, then opts for the other, grassy and less worn, though both appear equally trodden. He muses about returning to try the first path but doubts he will, knowing “how way leads on to way.” Years later, he imagines recounting this choice with a sigh, declaring that taking “the one less traveled by” made all the difference, casting the decision as a metaphor for life’s pivotal moments. In the short story *No Going Back*, Oliver confronts a literal and symbolic leap at a swimming pool. Once awestruck by divers soaring like eagles, he now climbs the diving board, his father trailing behind. Hesitating at the edge, he hears his father’s offer to retreat, but an inner force propels him to dive, marking an irreversible step toward maturity. Both texts explore the weight of choices, using paths and dives to reflect the blend of hesitation, resolve, and lasting impact that define life’s turning points.
In a compelling exploration of decision-making, an audio track features three speakers—Durjoy, Chaturi, and Helmut—offering insights into navigating choices. Durjoy champions following instincts, believing gut feelings often lead to sound decisions by tapping into subconscious wisdom. Chaturi advises a balanced approach, weighing pros and cons methodically to ensure clarity and avoid impulsive errors. Helmut reflects on consulting others, noting the benefit of diverse perspectives but warning that conflicting advice can cloud judgment, requiring careful discernment. Their collective wisdom underscores the complexity of decision-making, blending intuition, logic, and external input. The discussion extends to four bold proposals for global improvement: sharing wealth, banning meat, eliminating cars, or delaying school until age eight. Each suggestion sparks debate, inviting evaluation of feasibility and impact. Through these voices and ideas, the narrative illuminates the art of choice, emphasizing the need to assess evidence, anticipate consequences, and align decisions with values, whether personal or societal, in a world where every choice shapes the future.
Decisions shape our lives, but the process of making them can sometimes leave us dissatisfied, even when we’re in control. Kate Douglas and Dan Jones explore this in an article that delves into the psychology of decision-making, revealing surprising insights about when relinquishing control might lead to greater satisfaction. Research by Simona Botti from Cornell University and Ann McGill from the University of Chicago forms the backbone of this exploration. They conducted experiments where volunteers were asked to choose one item from a list of four—two with pleasant smells, like coffee or chocolate, and two with unpleasant smells. After making their choice, participants completed questionnaires to assess their satisfaction with the outcome and their feelings about the decision-making process. The results were telling. When faced with pleasant options, people were delighted with their choices and proudly took credit for their decisions. However, when the options were unpleasant, dissatisfaction was widespread. Participants disliked their choice and blamed themselves for ending up with something undesirable. In these cases, they would have been happier not choosing at all. Botti argues that this dissatisfaction with choosing from undesirable options has broader implications. For instance, letting someone else pick a restaurant or allowing a professional, like a doctor, to make treatment decisions might lead to greater contentment. Botti challenges the common fixation that control always equals happiness, suggesting that sometimes, surrendering choice can be liberating.
Writing about decisions often involves describing sequences, contrasts, or time, and specific adverbs can make these connections clearer. Linking adverbs, like "first," "next," and "afterwards," help outline stages in a process, such as a scientist’s career: studying hard at school, attending university, and then seeking a job. Time adverbs, such as "last year," "recently," or "soon," anchor events in time, showing how stages unfold, like a scientist starting research, making a breakthrough, and planning to share findings. In the article, these adverbs clarify the experiment’s stages, guiding readers through the process and making the research accessible.
Bonnie Malkin’s newspaper article, titled "Tourist feared he would die," recounts a harrowing tale of a split-second decision with life-or-death consequences. Chad Vance, a 19-year-old American student from Alaska, found himself clinging to the outside of the Ghan, a train speeding through the Australian outback at up to 70 mph. The incident began in Port Augusta, where Chad had stepped off the train to stretch his legs during a stop. As the train started moving, panic set in, and he made the impulsive choice to jump onto it. He squeezed into a small stairwell on the carriage’s exterior, but as the train gained speed and night fell, the freezing temperatures and his precarious position made him fear for his life. For two hours and twenty minutes, he endured, battered by the cold and the terror of falling onto the jagged rocks below. His cries for help eventually reached Marty Wells, a crew member, who stopped the train. Wells noted Chad’s white skin and blue lips, signs of near-hypothermia, and remarked that Chad was lucky to survive, as the next stop was three hours away. Chad later explained that he lost track of time in Port Augusta and, seeing the train move, chased it, knowing it would pause to change drivers. He banged on the dining carriage windows, but passengers dismissed him as a “crazy kid.” When the train accelerated again, Chad’s “instinctive” decision to climb aboard—wearing only jeans, boots, and a T-shirt—nearly cost him his life. After his rescue, he suffered from uncontrollable shaking, numbness, and stinging pain, underscoring the physical toll of his ordeal.
Prepositional phrases enrich writing by adding detail about relationships between nouns and other elements in a sentence. These phrases often combine a preposition, like "during" or "at," with a noun phrase, pronoun, adverb, or another prepositional phrase. For example, “during the train journey” or “at me” provides context about when or how events occur. In Malkin’s article, phrases like “through the Australian outback” or “for two hours and twenty minutes” vividly situate Chad’s ordeal, helping readers visualize the setting and timeline. Such structures enhance the storytelling, making the narrative more immersive and precise.
Elizabeth Olson’s blog, written for the charity Oxfam, paints a poignant picture of the impossible choices refugees face. Titled “To be a refugee is to make impossible choices,” it aims to foster sympathy by sharing personal stories. One haunting tale is that of Ahmad Mohmammad, who fled Homs, Syria, in 2013 with his wife and five daughters after his 9-year-old daughter was shot. Living in a cramped apartment in Zarka, Jordan, Ahmad considered crossing the Mediterranean, willing to risk his life for his children’s future. He had survived being shot at three times and witnessed countless murders, making the perilous journey seem like a viable gamble. Another story features Doaa, whose family’s business in Syria was destroyed in an explosion. With nothing left, she and her boyfriend entrusted their savings to human traffickers for a chance at safety in Europe. Tragically, their boat, carrying 500 passengers, was attacked by pirates and sank. Doaa was among the few survivors, but the loss was catastrophic. Olson reflects that Doaa’s choice—stay in danger or risk everything—was a lose-lose scenario, as either could lead to an “unspeakable fate.” The blog concludes with a metaphor, likening refugees to those who “drew the wrong ticket in the game of life,” urging readers to empathize, as anyone could face such circumstances. Through emotive language and personal narratives, Olson subtly persuades readers to view refugees with compassion, highlighting the human cost of their decisions.
Norashikin Mohamad’s article, “The refugee question,” presents a contrasting perspective, arguing that developed countries are not obligated to welcome refugees. It begins by framing the issue: as refugees seek safe homes, do wealthier nations have a duty to accept them? The article contends that developed countries must prioritize their own citizens’ needs—food, housing, medical care—before taking on additional burdens. Refugees, it argues, strain resources, exacerbating existing shortages, as seen in countries like Germany and France. Furthermore, refugees bring different values, beliefs, and cultures, which could disrupt the stability of host nations. While acknowledging the moral impulse to help, the article suggests that welcoming refugees is not the best solution. It cites the dangers of migration, noting that 1 in 40 people die crossing from Libya to the Mediterranean, and survivors often end up in ill-equipped camps, where diseases spread, worsening their plight. Instead, the article advocates for aiding refugees by rebuilding their home countries, arguing this is a more effective way to address their needs without destabilizing developed nations. Through logical arguments, real-life examples, and rhetorical questions, the article builds a case that prioritizes national stability over open borders.
50 docs|1 tests
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1. What is the main theme of 'The Road Not Taken'? | ![]() |
2. How can understanding choice problems help in decision-making? | ![]() |
3. What are some effective methods for making better decisions? | ![]() |
4. What challenges do refugees face when making choices? | ![]() |
5. Why do some tourists fear they will die while traveling? | ![]() |