According to the passage, Jakobson has dealt with which all of the following?

I. Uninterruptability of the dual processes of language lends it a possiblity of normalcy. II. According to Jakobson, there is an irrevocable connection between language comprehension and the suggested dichotomy. III. There might be other diseases affecting verbal behavior, which should suggest the same linguistic dichotomy of metaphor and metonymy.

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

Which of the statements is the author most likely to agree with?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

The main purpose of the passage is

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Many of the philosophers we have been reading in class seem to me to be hopelessly dated (although some of them express useful ideas and/or make good points). Of course, it's easy to become trapped in writing only for the period a person lives in, and a philosophy is necessarily dependant on the historical situation and the extent of man's knowledge. And many of the philosophers who have existed over the course of the centuries have necessarily had to worry about governmental, church, or societal disapproval, censorship, or punishment. (Socrates, for instance, was sentenced to death by a court for the crime of explaining his ideas.)

However, Victor Hugo said that if he were writing for his own time only, he would have to break his pen and throw it away. As so it seems that, in order for a philosopher to be relevant for the future as well as the present, he must take into account all of the objections to his philosophy which can be anticipated at the present time. And it seems to me that the most frequent objections to modern and pre-modern (but not postmodern) philosophers come from the incompatibility of their philosophies with what is considered to be established scientific fact. For instance, Plato's theory of forms does not, to me, seem to jibe with modern physics and cosmology. And although I can only vaguely glimpse the psychology which underlies Kant, it seems to be highly questionable. (In my view, application of Kant's epistemology and metaphysics could never produce an artificial intelligence capable of passing a Turing test.) And so, it seems to me, the best way that a philosopher can keep from being dated is to be aware of scientific knowledge, and integrate it into philosophy. Of course, this necessitates an independent evaluation of the merits and drawbacks of a given scientific idea, which necessitates, in turn, a thorough knowledge of that theory.

After all, physics can give us insights into metaphysics, since both seek different ways to do the same thing; psychology, sociology, anthropology, and archeology can give us insights into epistemology; various "soft" sciences dealing with comparative cultures can provide food for thought in ethics, and so on. History is, of course, necessary to any understanding of a philosophy: how it came about, what people did with it, etc. Sartre, although he developed some of his ideas from Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, probably could not have expounded those same ideas of existentialism in their times; Nietzsche, who popularized the idea that "God is dead"; could not have written in the time of Descartes; and Descartes could not have expressed (or, possibly, even produced) his.

I suppose that my point is that philosophy does not (and should not, and must not) stand apart from the rest of the sciences (and it should, can, and must be a science). Rather, Philosophy should be integrated with the rest of the sciences through a method of rational judgment. Rather than sailing behind, or next to but away from, the rest of the sciences, Philosophy should be the flagship of the group. Although the other sciences can provide us with data, observations, and theories, only philosophy can integrate those into a coherent whole, tell us what to do with them, or provide a meaningful context for using these facts in our daily lives.

The author's attitude towards philosophy identifies philosophy as

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Many of the philosophers we have been reading in class seem to me to be hopelessly dated (although some of them express useful ideas and/or make good points). Of course, it's easy to become trapped in writing only for the period a person lives in, and a philosophy is necessarily dependant on the historical situation and the extent of man's knowledge. And many of the philosophers who have existed over the course of the centuries have necessarily had to worry about governmental, church, or societal disapproval, censorship, or punishment. (Socrates, for instance, was sentenced to death by a court for the crime of explaining his ideas.)

However, Victor Hugo said that if he were writing for his own time only, he would have to break his pen and throw it away. As so it seems that, in order for a philosopher to be relevant for the future as well as the present, he must take into account all of the objections to his philosophy which can be anticipated at the present time. And it seems to me that the most frequent objections to modern and pre-modern (but not postmodern) philosophers come from the incompatibility of their philosophies with what is considered to be established scientific fact. For instance, Plato's theory of forms does not, to me, seem to jibe with modern physics and cosmology. And although I can only vaguely glimpse the psychology which underlies Kant, it seems to be highly questionable. (In my view, application of Kant's epistemology and metaphysics could never produce an artificial intelligence capable of passing a Turing test.) And so, it seems to me, the best way that a philosopher can keep from being dated is to be aware of scientific knowledge, and integrate it into philosophy. Of course, this necessitates an independent evaluation of the merits and drawbacks of a given scientific idea, which necessitates, in turn, a thorough knowledge of that theory.

After all, physics can give us insights into metaphysics, since both seek different ways to do the same thing; psychology, sociology, anthropology, and archeology can give us insights into epistemology; various "soft" sciences dealing with comparative cultures can provide food for thought in ethics, and so on. History is, of course, necessary to any understanding of a philosophy: how it came about, what people did with it, etc. Sartre, although he developed some of his ideas from Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, probably could not have expounded those same ideas of existentialism in their times; Nietzsche, who popularized the idea that "God is dead"; could not have written in the time of Descartes; and Descartes could not have expressed (or, possibly, even produced) his.

I suppose that my point is that philosophy does not (and should not, and must not) stand apart from the rest of the sciences (and it should, can, and must be a science). Rather, Philosophy should be integrated with the rest of the sciences through a method of rational judgment. Rather than sailing behind, or next to but away from, the rest of the sciences, Philosophy should be the flagship of the group. Although the other sciences can provide us with data, observations, and theories, only philosophy can integrate those into a coherent whole, tell us what to do with them, or provide a meaningful context for using these facts in our daily lives.

From where does philosophy draw its relevance to the modern world?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Many of the philosophers we have been reading in class seem to me to be hopelessly dated (although some of them express useful ideas and/or make good points). Of course, it's easy to become trapped in writing only for the period a person lives in, and a philosophy is necessarily dependant on the historical situation and the extent of man's knowledge. And many of the philosophers who have existed over the course of the centuries have necessarily had to worry about governmental, church, or societal disapproval, censorship, or punishment. (Socrates, for instance, was sentenced to death by a court for the crime of explaining his ideas.)

However, Victor Hugo said that if he were writing for his own time only, he would have to break his pen and throw it away. As so it seems that, in order for a philosopher to be relevant for the future as well as the present, he must take into account all of the objections to his philosophy which can be anticipated at the present time. And it seems to me that the most frequent objections to modern and pre-modern (but not postmodern) philosophers come from the incompatibility of their philosophies with what is considered to be established scientific fact. For instance, Plato's theory of forms does not, to me, seem to jibe with modern physics and cosmology. And although I can only vaguely glimpse the psychology which underlies Kant, it seems to be highly questionable. (In my view, application of Kant's epistemology and metaphysics could never produce an artificial intelligence capable of passing a Turing test.) And so, it seems to me, the best way that a philosopher can keep from being dated is to be aware of scientific knowledge, and integrate it into philosophy. Of course, this necessitates an independent evaluation of the merits and drawbacks of a given scientific idea, which necessitates, in turn, a thorough knowledge of that theory.

After all, physics can give us insights into metaphysics, since both seek different ways to do the same thing; psychology, sociology, anthropology, and archeology can give us insights into epistemology; various "soft" sciences dealing with comparative cultures can provide food for thought in ethics, and so on. History is, of course, necessary to any understanding of a philosophy: how it came about, what people did with it, etc. Sartre, although he developed some of his ideas from Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, probably could not have expounded those same ideas of existentialism in their times; Nietzsche, who popularized the idea that "God is dead"; could not have written in the time of Descartes; and Descartes could not have expressed (or, possibly, even produced) his.

I suppose that my point is that philosophy does not (and should not, and must not) stand apart from the rest of the sciences (and it should, can, and must be a science). Rather, Philosophy should be integrated with the rest of the sciences through a method of rational judgment. Rather than sailing behind, or next to but away from, the rest of the sciences, Philosophy should be the flagship of the group. Although the other sciences can provide us with data, observations, and theories, only philosophy can integrate those into a coherent whole, tell us what to do with them, or provide a meaningful context for using these facts in our daily lives.

Which of the following statements is best supported by the information given in the passage?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

The primary purpose of the passage is

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

What is the tone of the passage?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

The double standard mentioned in the paragraph can be attributed to

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

It can be inferred form the passage that following can be the features of the society

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

The central idea behind the passage can be inferred from the following lines of the passage:

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Many of the philosophers we have been reading in class seem to me to be hopelessly dated (although some of them express useful ideas and/or make good points). Of course, it's easy to become trapped in writing only for the period a person lives in, and a philosophy is necessarily dependant on the historical situation and the extent of man's knowledge. And many of the philosophers who have existed over the course of the centuries have necessarily had to worry about governmental, church, or societal disapproval, censorship, or punishment. (Socrates, for instance, was sentenced to death by a court for the crime of explaining his ideas.)

However, Victor Hugo said that if he were writing for his own time only, he would have to break his pen and throw it away. As so it seems that, in order for a philosopher to be relevant for the future as well as the present, he must take into account all of the objections to his philosophy which can be anticipated at the present time. And it seems to me that the most frequent objections to modern and pre-modern (but not postmodern) philosophers come from the incompatibility of their philosophies with what is considered to be established scientific fact. For instance, Plato's theory of forms does not, to me, seem to jibe with modern physics and cosmology. And although I can only vaguely glimpse the psychology which underlies Kant, it seems to be highly questionable. (In my view, application of Kant's epistemology and metaphysics could never produce an artificial intelligence capable of passing a Turing test.) And so, it seems to me, the best way that a philosopher can keep from being dated is to be aware of scientific knowledge, and integrate it into philosophy. Of course, this necessitates an independent evaluation of the merits and drawbacks of a given scientific idea, which necessitates, in turn, a thorough knowledge of that theory.

After all, physics can give us insights into metaphysics, since both seek different ways to do the same thing; psychology, sociology, anthropology, and archeology can give us insights into epistemology; various "soft" sciences dealing with comparative cultures can provide food for thought in ethics, and so on. History is, of course, necessary to any understanding of a philosophy: how it came about, what people did with it, etc. Sartre, although he developed some of his ideas from Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, probably could not have expounded those same ideas of existentialism in their times; Nietzsche, who popularized the idea that "God is dead"; could not have written in the time of Descartes; and Descartes could not have expressed (or, possibly, even produced) his.

I suppose that my point is that philosophy does not (and should not, and must not) stand apart from the rest of the sciences (and it should, can, and must be a science). Rather, Philosophy should be integrated with the rest of the sciences through a method of rational judgment. Rather than sailing behind, or next to but away from, the rest of the sciences, Philosophy should be the flagship of the group. Although the other sciences can provide us with data, observations, and theories, only philosophy can integrate those into a coherent whole, tell us what to do with them, or provide a meaningful context for using these facts in our daily lives.

The passage advocates

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

The central idea of the passage can be assessed from the following lines of the passage:

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

Ecclesiastical Reservation was

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Edict of Restitution from 1629 was Ferdinand-II, Holy Roman Emperor’s attempt to restore the religious and territorial settlement after the Peace of Augsburg (1555). The "Ecclesiastical Reservation" forbade the secularisation of Catholic land after 1555. However, during the decades of weak emperors, princes had secularised Catholic land simply because it was so valuable and they had got away with it as no emperor was powerful enough to enforce the "Ecclesiastical Reservation".

The main proposal of the "Edict of Restitution" was to ensure that the "Ecclesiastical Reservation" was enforced and it affected the secularised archbishoprics of Bremen and Magdeburg, 12 bishoprics and over 100 religious houses. The Edict resulted in a great transfer of power and property away from the Protestants to the Catholics. Thousands of Protestants had to leave where they lived and go to states that were Protestant.

The greatest impact of this was in north-east Germany. It was in this area that Ferdinand’s power was at its weakest, so this move was very understandable and potentially very rewarding for him. Ferdinand appointed Imperial administrators to take over the secularised states/cities. By doing this, he was re-establishing Imperial authority to an area that had enjoyed freedom from Imperial rule for nearly 100 years. The threat was implicit to the German princes. It was a move that alarmed the French - though Ferdinand was well within his rights to do what he did.

The German princes could do nothing. They had seen the Coalition destroyed and Wallenstein had a massive army in the field - 134,000 troops - to enforce Imperial authority if required.

Ironically, Wallenstein disliked the Edict as it trespassed into the region his considered his own but he played his part for the emperor to the full. He stated that "he would teach the Electors manners. They must be dependent on the emperor, not the emperor on them." Ferdinand would have approved of such words. The response of the princes was to group behind Maximillian of Bavaria to pressurise Ferdinand into dismissing Wallenstein.

Their chance came in 1630 when Ferdinand had to call a meeting of the Electors because he wanted his son, also called Ferdinand, elected King of the Romans. Ironically, the man with so much apparent power, had to rely, by law, on the votes of the Electors to maintain his dynasty in power. The meeting was held in Regensburg. Ferdinand also hoped to persuade the Electors to approve greater Imperial involvement in the wars that were being fought in Europe.

The passage answers all the below given questions except:

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

What most easily describes the organization of the passage

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

What can be best inferred from the passage about the psychological processes?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

In his well-known essay "Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances" Roman Jakobson presents a theory of language based on certain empirical observations and discoveries. Jakobson examines aphasia, a disorder of language use, which he characterizes as consisting of two more fundamental types of disorder. These coincide with what he considers to be the bases and underlying processes of languages as such. These are the metaphoric and metonymic processes that govern all verbal activity and indeed even human behavior in general. Every case of aphasia involves an impairment of the metaphoric or metonymic activities, and every case exhibits at least one of these traits. Normally these two processes occur continuously and interactively in language, though the individual speaker places greater emphasis on one or the other in accord with his or her preferences and predilections. Metaphor and metonymy are the defining poles of language: all linguistic expression lies somewhere between these extremes.

Having identified these essential components of language Jakobson begins looking for further evidence to confirm his claim. He graduates his arguments to facilitate comprehension of the increasingly complex uses to which language is put. He considers, for instance, a normal but controlled use of language in a psychology experiment performed with children. When a group of children were presented with the noun "hut," their verbal responses invariably exhibited metaphoric or metonymic preferences. There was, in other words, no response other than in terms of metaphor or metonymy. This consequence bolsters the findings based on aphasia: the defining poles of language are metaphor and metonymy, and the individual preference (or predilection) determines the priority of one over the other.

Jakobson's theory is brief and concise, and is very much in accord with the concept of a definition prevalent in the natural sciences. But he is not content with these two pieces of evidence; he goes on to consider an uncontrolled use of language. One can gauge the depth of Jakobson's conviction when one notices that in focusing on an uncontrolled use of language he selects an exceptionally creative form--literature. If the theory can handle literature, then unquestionably it must be acceptable. Jakobson considers the literary schools of Romanticism, Realism, and Symbolism and shows how they relate to the metaphoric and metonymic poles. Citing examples of literary products of these schools he shows that they exhibit the same pattern as the aphasia patients and the children in the psychology experiment. From literature it is an easy step to other artistic forms like the cinema; and again one finds the same evidence of metaphoric and metonymic processes at work. Jakobson then makes the larger claim that the same is true of other semiotic systems and suggests that collaborative, interdisciplinary research be undertaken to explore the implications of his discovery fully. (1) Such research could be carried out, he suggests, by experts from the disciplines of linguistics, psychology, psychopathology, poetics, and semiotics (93). The depth of Jakobson's conviction is perhaps best stated in a remark he made in 1980: "A linguistic study of aphasia closely linked to the study of language in general and to poetic language in particular not only contributes to the classification of aphasic disorders, but also to the comprehension of the structure of language and even to the improvement of the methods of poetics" (Jakobson and Pomorska 134).

As an example of what might result from such research and as further evidence for the metaphoric and metonymic poles of language, Jakobson discusses the case of Gleb Ivanovic Uspenskij, a Russian novelist with a strong metonymic bent. Jakobson contends that Uspenskij's writings constitute a case in point of the predominance of metonymy in Realist literature. Uspenskij suffered in his later life from a mental illness that involved a verbal disorder. Since he displayed a metonymical bent in his literary works, one would expect to see this characteristic reflected in his verbal disorder--and that is what exactly happened. Uspenskij was unable to relate his first and patronymic names (Gleb and Ivanovic), a disorder bound up with the metonymical bent. This kind of psycholinguistic analysis of verbal behavior is only one area illuminated by Jakobson's discovery. Other dichotomies in human actions and expressions, too, can be interpreted in this light. For instance, Freud's theory of the structure of dreams, the principles underlying magic and ritual, and the differences between prose and poetry can all be explicated on the model of Jakobson's bipolar division operating in human processes.

In the first paragraph, secularisation of catholic land would entail

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Edict of Restitution from 1629 was Ferdinand-II, Holy Roman Emperor’s attempt to restore the religious and territorial settlement after the Peace of Augsburg (1555). The "Ecclesiastical Reservation" forbade the secularisation of Catholic land after 1555. However, during the decades of weak emperors, princes had secularised Catholic land simply because it was so valuable and they had got away with it as no emperor was powerful enough to enforce the "Ecclesiastical Reservation".

The main proposal of the "Edict of Restitution" was to ensure that the "Ecclesiastical Reservation" was enforced and it affected the secularised archbishoprics of Bremen and Magdeburg, 12 bishoprics and over 100 religious houses. The Edict resulted in a great transfer of power and property away from the Protestants to the Catholics. Thousands of Protestants had to leave where they lived and go to states that were Protestant.

The greatest impact of this was in north-east Germany. It was in this area that Ferdinand’s power was at its weakest, so this move was very understandable and potentially very rewarding for him. Ferdinand appointed Imperial administrators to take over the secularised states/cities. By doing this, he was re-establishing Imperial authority to an area that had enjoyed freedom from Imperial rule for nearly 100 years. The threat was implicit to the German princes. It was a move that alarmed the French - though Ferdinand was well within his rights to do what he did.

The German princes could do nothing. They had seen the Coalition destroyed and Wallenstein had a massive army in the field - 134,000 troops - to enforce Imperial authority if required.

Ironically, Wallenstein disliked the Edict as it trespassed into the region his considered his own but he played his part for the emperor to the full. He stated that "he would teach the Electors manners. They must be dependent on the emperor, not the emperor on them." Ferdinand would have approved of such words. The response of the princes was to group behind Maximillian of Bavaria to pressurise Ferdinand into dismissing Wallenstein.

Their chance came in 1630 when Ferdinand had to call a meeting of the Electors because he wanted his son, also called Ferdinand, elected King of the Romans. Ironically, the man with so much apparent power, had to rely, by law, on the votes of the Electors to maintain his dynasty in power. The meeting was held in Regensburg. Ferdinand also hoped to persuade the Electors to approve greater Imperial involvement in the wars that were being fought in Europe.

What can be deduced about the semantic relevance of the word ironic in the last paragraph?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Edict of Restitution from 1629 was Ferdinand-II, Holy Roman Emperor’s attempt to restore the religious and territorial settlement after the Peace of Augsburg (1555). The "Ecclesiastical Reservation" forbade the secularisation of Catholic land after 1555. However, during the decades of weak emperors, princes had secularised Catholic land simply because it was so valuable and they had got away with it as no emperor was powerful enough to enforce the "Ecclesiastical Reservation".

The main proposal of the "Edict of Restitution" was to ensure that the "Ecclesiastical Reservation" was enforced and it affected the secularised archbishoprics of Bremen and Magdeburg, 12 bishoprics and over 100 religious houses. The Edict resulted in a great transfer of power and property away from the Protestants to the Catholics. Thousands of Protestants had to leave where they lived and go to states that were Protestant.

The greatest impact of this was in north-east Germany. It was in this area that Ferdinand’s power was at its weakest, so this move was very understandable and potentially very rewarding for him. Ferdinand appointed Imperial administrators to take over the secularised states/cities. By doing this, he was re-establishing Imperial authority to an area that had enjoyed freedom from Imperial rule for nearly 100 years. The threat was implicit to the German princes. It was a move that alarmed the French - though Ferdinand was well within his rights to do what he did.

The German princes could do nothing. They had seen the Coalition destroyed and Wallenstein had a massive army in the field - 134,000 troops - to enforce Imperial authority if required.

Ironically, Wallenstein disliked the Edict as it trespassed into the region his considered his own but he played his part for the emperor to the full. He stated that "he would teach the Electors manners. They must be dependent on the emperor, not the emperor on them." Ferdinand would have approved of such words. The response of the princes was to group behind Maximillian of Bavaria to pressurise Ferdinand into dismissing Wallenstein.

Their chance came in 1630 when Ferdinand had to call a meeting of the Electors because he wanted his son, also called Ferdinand, elected King of the Romans. Ironically, the man with so much apparent power, had to rely, by law, on the votes of the Electors to maintain his dynasty in power. The meeting was held in Regensburg. Ferdinand also hoped to persuade the Electors to approve greater Imperial involvement in the wars that were being fought in Europe.

According to the passage, the difference between humanities and physical sciences can be

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Mankind is not an entity, an organism, or a coral bush. The entity involved in production and trade is man. It is with the study of man – not of the loose aggregate known as a “community” – that any science of the humanities has to begin.

This issue represents one of the epistemological differences between the humanities and the physical sciences, one of the causes of the former’s well-earned inferiority complex in regard to the latter. A physical science would not permit itself (not yet, at least) to ignore or bypass the nature of its subject. Such an attempt would mean: a science of astronomy that gazed at the sky, but refused to study individual stars, planets, and satellites – or a science of medicine that studies disease, without any knowledge or criterion of health, and took, as its basic subject of study, a hospital as a whole never focusing on individual patients.

A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society – by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Yet that is the methodology adopted by most political economists. Their attitude, in effect, amounts to the unstated, implicit postulate: “Man is that which fits economic equations.” Since he obviously does not, this leads to the curious fact that in spite of the practical nature of their science, political economists are oddly unable to relate their abstractions to the concretes of actual existence.

It leads also to a baffling sort of double standard or double perspective in their way of viewing men and events: if they observe a shoemaker, they find no difficulty in concluding that he is working in order to make a living; but as political economists, on the tribal premise, they declare that his purpose (and duty) is to provide society with shoes. If they observe a panhandler on a street corner, they identify him as a bum; in political economy, he becomes “a sovereign consumer.” If they hear the communist doctrine that all property should belong to the state, they reject it emphatically and feel, sincerely, that they would fight communism to the death; but in political economy, they speak of the government’s duty to effect “a fair redistribution of wealth,” and they speak of businessmen as the best, most efficient trustees of the nation’s “natural resources.”

This is what a basic premise (and philosophical negligence) will do; this is what the tribal premise has done.

To reject that premise and begin at the beginning – in one’s approach to political economy and to the evaluation of various social systems – one must begin by identifying man’s nature, i.e., those essential characteristics which distinguish him from all other living species.

This is not just a question of "relevance" to everyday life; these fields are as rigorous and fundamental as those in traditional curriculums. Nor is it a question of tradition being bad and innovation good — many fad movements are just as evasive about setting priorities. Even if learning music were shown to enhance math skills, that doesn't mean it is as effective as the same number of hours spent learning math.

In a world with complexities that constantly challenge the abilities nature gave us, serious thinking about trade-offs in education cannot be responsibly avoided — by scientists, educators or policy makers.

According to the passage, the purpose of the Edict of Restitution can be

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Edict of Restitution from 1629 was Ferdinand-II, Holy Roman Emperor’s attempt to restore the religious and territorial settlement after the Peace of Augsburg (1555). The "Ecclesiastical Reservation" forbade the secularisation of Catholic land after 1555. However, during the decades of weak emperors, princes had secularised Catholic land simply because it was so valuable and they had got away with it as no emperor was powerful enough to enforce the "Ecclesiastical Reservation".

The main proposal of the "Edict of Restitution" was to ensure that the "Ecclesiastical Reservation" was enforced and it affected the secularised archbishoprics of Bremen and Magdeburg, 12 bishoprics and over 100 religious houses. The Edict resulted in a great transfer of power and property away from the Protestants to the Catholics. Thousands of Protestants had to leave where they lived and go to states that were Protestant.

The greatest impact of this was in north-east Germany. It was in this area that Ferdinand’s power was at its weakest, so this move was very understandable and potentially very rewarding for him. Ferdinand appointed Imperial administrators to take over the secularised states/cities. By doing this, he was re-establishing Imperial authority to an area that had enjoyed freedom from Imperial rule for nearly 100 years. The threat was implicit to the German princes. It was a move that alarmed the French - though Ferdinand was well within his rights to do what he did.

The German princes could do nothing. They had seen the Coalition destroyed and Wallenstein had a massive army in the field - 134,000 troops - to enforce Imperial authority if required.

Ironically, Wallenstein disliked the Edict as it trespassed into the region his considered his own but he played his part for the emperor to the full. He stated that "he would teach the Electors manners. They must be dependent on the emperor, not the emperor on them." Ferdinand would have approved of such words. The response of the princes was to group behind Maximillian of Bavaria to pressurise Ferdinand into dismissing Wallenstein.

Their chance came in 1630 when Ferdinand had to call a meeting of the Electors because he wanted his son, also called Ferdinand, elected King of the Romans. Ironically, the man with so much apparent power, had to rely, by law, on the votes of the Electors to maintain his dynasty in power. The meeting was held in Regensburg. Ferdinand also hoped to persuade the Electors to approve greater Imperial involvement in the wars that were being fought in Europe.

Why should Philosophy be the 'flagship of the group'?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Many of the philosophers we have been reading in class seem to me to be hopelessly dated (although some of them express useful ideas and/or make good points). Of course, it's easy to become trapped in writing only for the period a person lives in, and a philosophy is necessarily dependant on the historical situation and the extent of man's knowledge. And many of the philosophers who have existed over the course of the centuries have necessarily had to worry about governmental, church, or societal disapproval, censorship, or punishment. (Socrates, for instance, was sentenced to death by a court for the crime of explaining his ideas.)

However, Victor Hugo said that if he were writing for his own time only, he would have to break his pen and throw it away. As so it seems that, in order for a philosopher to be relevant for the future as well as the present, he must take into account all of the objections to his philosophy which can be anticipated at the present time. And it seems to me that the most frequent objections to modern and pre-modern (but not postmodern) philosophers come from the incompatibility of their philosophies with what is considered to be established scientific fact. For instance, Plato's theory of forms does not, to me, seem to jibe with modern physics and cosmology. And although I can only vaguely glimpse the psychology which underlies Kant, it seems to be highly questionable. (In my view, application of Kant's epistemology and metaphysics could never produce an artificial intelligence capable of passing a Turing test.) And so, it seems to me, the best way that a philosopher can keep from being dated is to be aware of scientific knowledge, and integrate it into philosophy. Of course, this necessitates an independent evaluation of the merits and drawbacks of a given scientific idea, which necessitates, in turn, a thorough knowledge of that theory.

After all, physics can give us insights into metaphysics, since both seek different ways to do the same thing; psychology, sociology, anthropology, and archeology can give us insights into epistemology; various "soft" sciences dealing with comparative cultures can provide food for thought in ethics, and so on. History is, of course, necessary to any understanding of a philosophy: how it came about, what people did with it, etc. Sartre, although he developed some of his ideas from Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, probably could not have expounded those same ideas of existentialism in their times; Nietzsche, who popularized the idea that "God is dead"; could not have written in the time of Descartes; and Descartes could not have expressed (or, possibly, even produced) his.

I suppose that my point is that philosophy does not (and should not, and must not) stand apart from the rest of the sciences (and it should, can, and must be a science). Rather, Philosophy should be integrated with the rest of the sciences through a method of rational judgment. Rather than sailing behind, or next to but away from, the rest of the sciences, Philosophy should be the flagship of the group. Although the other sciences can provide us with data, observations, and theories, only philosophy can integrate those into a coherent whole, tell us what to do with them, or provide a meaningful context for using these facts in our daily lives.

The passage deals with an issue that is

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

Edict of Restitution from 1629 was Ferdinand-II, Holy Roman Emperor’s attempt to restore the religious and territorial settlement after the Peace of Augsburg (1555). The "Ecclesiastical Reservation" forbade the secularisation of Catholic land after 1555. However, during the decades of weak emperors, princes had secularised Catholic land simply because it was so valuable and they had got away with it as no emperor was powerful enough to enforce the "Ecclesiastical Reservation".

The main proposal of the "Edict of Restitution" was to ensure that the "Ecclesiastical Reservation" was enforced and it affected the secularised archbishoprics of Bremen and Magdeburg, 12 bishoprics and over 100 religious houses. The Edict resulted in a great transfer of power and property away from the Protestants to the Catholics. Thousands of Protestants had to leave where they lived and go to states that were Protestant.

The greatest impact of this was in north-east Germany. It was in this area that Ferdinand’s power was at its weakest, so this move was very understandable and potentially very rewarding for him. Ferdinand appointed Imperial administrators to take over the secularised states/cities. By doing this, he was re-establishing Imperial authority to an area that had enjoyed freedom from Imperial rule for nearly 100 years. The threat was implicit to the German princes. It was a move that alarmed the French - though Ferdinand was well within his rights to do what he did.

The German princes could do nothing. They had seen the Coalition destroyed and Wallenstein had a massive army in the field - 134,000 troops - to enforce Imperial authority if required.

Ironically, Wallenstein disliked the Edict as it trespassed into the region his considered his own but he played his part for the emperor to the full. He stated that "he would teach the Electors manners. They must be dependent on the emperor, not the emperor on them." Ferdinand would have approved of such words. The response of the princes was to group behind Maximillian of Bavaria to pressurise Ferdinand into dismissing Wallenstein.

Their chance came in 1630 when Ferdinand had to call a meeting of the Electors because he wanted his son, also called Ferdinand, elected King of the Romans. Ironically, the man with so much apparent power, had to rely, by law, on the votes of the Electors to maintain his dynasty in power. The meeting was held in Regensburg. Ferdinand also hoped to persuade the Electors to approve greater Imperial involvement in the wars that were being fought in Europe.