Everything You Need to Pass: test_prep GED_SECTION_4_LANGUAGE_ARTS_READING

What Has Happened to Gregor?As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.What has happened to me? he thought. It was no dream. His room, a regular human bedroom, only rather too small, lay quiet between the four familiar walls.Above the table on which a collection of cloth samples was unpacked and spread out Samsa was a commercial traveler hung the picture which he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and put into a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady, with a fur cap on and a fur stole, sitting upright and holding out to the spectator a huge fur muff into which the whole of her forearm had vanished!. . . .He slid down again into his former position. This getting up early, he thought, makes one quite stupid. A man needs his sleep. Other commercials live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the hotel of a morning to write up the orders Ive got, these others are only sitting down to breakfast. Let me just try that with my chief; Id be sacked on the spot. Anyhow, that might be quite a good thing for me, who can tell? If I didnt have to hold my hand because of my parents Id have given notice long ago, Id have gone to the chief and told him exactly what I think of him. That would knock him endways from his desk! Its a queer way of doing, too, this sitting on high at a desk and talking down to employees, especially when they have to come quite near because the chief is hard of hearing. Well, theres still hope; once Ive saved enough money to pay back my parents debts to him that should take another five or six years Ill do it without fail. Ill cut myself completely loose then. For the moment, though, Id better get up, since my train goes at five.Franz Kafka, from The Metamorphosis (1912)In lines 47–48, Gregor tells himself, "I’d better get up, since my train goes at five." This suggests that

What Did the Speaker Learn from Alfonso?Alfonso -I am not the first poet born to my family. We have painters and singers, actors and carpenters.I inherited my trade from my zio, Alfonso. Zio maybe was the tallest man in the village, he certainly was the widest. He lost his voice to cigarettes before I was born, but still he roared with his hands, his eyes, with his brow, and his deafening smile.He worked the sea with my nonno fishing in silence among the grottoes so my father could learn to write and read and not speak like the guaglione, filled with curses and empty pockets.He would watch me write with wonder, I could hear him on the couch, he looked at the lines over my shoulder, tried to teach himself to read late in the soft Adriatic darkness. Wine-stained pages gave him away.But I learned to write from Zio He didnt need words, still he taught me the language of silence, the way the sun can describe a shadow, a gesture can paint a moment, a scent could fill an entire village with words and color and sound, a perfect little grape tomato can be the most beautiful thing in the world, seen through the right eyes.Marco A. Annunziata (2002)Reprinted by permission of the author.In line 5, the speaker says, "I inherited my trade from my zio, Alfonso."What trade did the speaker inherit?

What Did the Speaker Learn from Alfonso?Alfonso -I am not the first poet born to my family. We have painters and singers, actors and carpenters.I inherited my trade from my zio, Alfonso. Zio maybe was the tallest man in the village, he certainly was the widest. He lost his voice to cigarettes before I was born, but still he roared with his hands, his eyes, with his brow, and his deafening smile.He worked the sea with my nonno fishing in silence among the grottoes so my father could learn to write and read and not speak like the guaglione, filled with curses and empty pockets.He would watch me write with wonder, I could hear him on the couch, he looked at the lines over my shoulder, tried to teach himself to read late in the soft Adriatic darkness. Wine-stained pages gave him away.But I learned to write from Zio He didnt need words, still he taught me the language of silence, the way the sun can describe a shadow, a gesture can paint a moment, a scent could fill an entire village with words and color and sound, a perfect little grape tomato can be the most beautiful thing in the world, seen through the right eyes.Marco A. Annunziata (2002)Reprinted by permission of the author.What is the relationship between the speaker and Alfonso?

What Did the Speaker Learn from Alfonso?Alfonso -I am not the first poet born to my family. We have painters and singers, actors and carpenters.I inherited my trade from my zio, Alfonso. Zio maybe was the tallest man in the village, he certainly was the widest. He lost his voice to cigarettes before I was born, but still he roared with his hands, his eyes, with his brow, and his deafening smile.He worked the sea with my nonno fishing in silence among the grottoes so my father could learn to write and read and not speak like the guaglione, filled with curses and empty pockets.He would watch me write with wonder, I could hear him on the couch, he looked at the lines over my shoulder, tried to teach himself to read late in the soft Adriatic darkness. Wine-stained pages gave him away.But I learned to write from Zio He didnt need words, still he taught me the language of silence, the way the sun can describe a shadow, a gesture can paint a moment, a scent could fill an entire village with words and color and sound, a perfect little grape tomato can be the most beautiful thing in the world, seen through the right eyes.Marco A. Annunziata (2002)Reprinted by permission of the author.Which of the following statements about Alfonso is true?

What Did the Speaker Learn from Alfonso?Alfonso -I am not the first poet born to my family. We have painters and singers, actors and carpenters.I inherited my trade from my zio, Alfonso. Zio maybe was the tallest man in the village, he certainly was the widest. He lost his voice to cigarettes before I was born, but still he roared with his hands, his eyes, with his brow, and his deafening smile.He worked the sea with my nonno fishing in silence among the grottoes so my father could learn to write and read and not speak like the guaglione, filled with curses and empty pockets.He would watch me write with wonder, I could hear him on the couch, he looked at the lines over my shoulder, tried to teach himself to read late in the soft Adriatic darkness. Wine-stained pages gave him away.But I learned to write from Zio He didnt need words, still he taught me the language of silence, the way the sun can describe a shadow, a gesture can paint a moment, a scent could fill an entire village with words and color and sound, a perfect little grape tomato can be the most beautiful thing in the world, seen through the right eyes.Marco A. Annunziata (2002)Reprinted by permission of the author.In lines 11–13, the speaker says that Alfonso "roared / with his hands, his eyes, / with his brow, and his deafening smile." These lines suggest that Alfonso

What Has Happened to Gregor?As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.What has happened to me? he thought. It was no dream. His room, a regular human bedroom, only rather too small, lay quiet between the four familiar walls.Above the table on which a collection of cloth samples was unpacked and spread out Samsa was a commercial traveler hung the picture which he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and put into a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady, with a fur cap on and a fur stole, sitting upright and holding out to the spectator a huge fur muff into which the whole of her forearm had vanished!. . . .He slid down again into his former position. This getting up early, he thought, makes one quite stupid. A man needs his sleep. Other commercials live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the hotel of a morning to write up the orders Ive got, these others are only sitting down to breakfast. Let me just try that with my chief; Id be sacked on the spot. Anyhow, that might be quite a good thing for me, who can tell? If I didnt have to hold my hand because of my parents Id have given notice long ago, Id have gone to the chief and told him exactly what I think of him. That would knock him endways from his desk! Its a queer way of doing, too, this sitting on high at a desk and talking down to employees, especially when they have to come quite near because the chief is hard of hearing. Well, theres still hope; once Ive saved enough money to pay back my parents debts to him that should take another five or six years Ill do it without fail. Ill cut myself completely loose then. For the moment, though, Id better get up, since my train goes at five.Franz Kafka, from The Metamorphosis (1912)When Gregor Samsa wakes up, he realizes that he