Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Kurt Vonnegut, writer and famous speech giver at US university graduation ceremonies, made this point to one group of soon-to-be-non-students: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. It is the end of a story about his grandpa who, on a summer's afternoon, would find the shade of a tree under which he could rest with a glass of homemade lemonade. The family didn't have a lot of cash, the grandpa worked hard every day of his life, but no matter how relentless the day-to-day was, he would always repeat this phrase as a reminder to those around him that, at the end of the day, this is all still amazing to be part of. This kind of optimism, as you might call it, can often disappear in a flash in the busy-ness of business or school. Things become impossible, hardgoing, relentless(ly difficult). And the reasons we give for that busyness nearly always involve someone or something else - the system, the job, the weather... For many years, people would ask the salutary "how are you?" and my answer was a stock one: "I'm tired." It was my wife who pointed it out to me, presumably because everyone else was too polite to express their boredom with my reply. The fact is, most people feel tired most of the time, until they make a switch in their life. That switch is deciding that the only person who can turn that frown upside down, who can make crazy stuff happen (or attempt to, and enjoy the process), is you. And in Vonnegut's case, that switch came from saying out loud the one phrase that brings us back to the good elements in what we or our team or our family is doing at any given moment: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. Question: Who is the famous writer at speech giver at US university graduations? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Kurt Vonnegut
- Kurt's grandpa
- not enough information
- the author's wife

Answer: Kurt Vonnegut

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Diane's heart felt leaden as she prepared to leave. Each face she looked at, she knew she was seeing for the last time. As if she were dying and they all were going to live on. Oh, why must I leave? Now, when all of you are about to put on the martyr's crown, how can you cast me out? I want to die with you. I do not want to go on, stumbling through this world alone. For years these people had been her only family. When she was a child, her faith was preached and practiced openly all over the south of France. The crusade was already twenty years old then, but the perfecti still taught crowds of people in the streets of great cities like Toulouse and Beziers, still won converts away from the Church of Rome. From the lords and ladies in their castles to the peasants on the mountainsides, over half the people were Cathars. Now this year, one thousand two hundred forty-four, might come to be remembered as the year Catharism in France disappeared. From now on there would be nothing but a remnant in hiding, having to sneak about. No, she didn't want to live that way. She longed to throw herself down and beg Bishop Bertran once again to let her stay. But duty pressed down upon her like a mail shirt. It was burdensome, but it protected her from error. She quietly made ready. Before long, Diane and Roland were standing on the northeast wall amid a group of perfecti. From a family that had taken refuge on Mont Segur had come a red and green costume for Diane, the tunic and hose of a well-to-do boy, an equerry. They had cut her hair short and tucked it under a cap topped with a long partridge feather. They had sewn the red cross back on Roland's black surcoat, and had made one for Diane's tunic from a gentlewoman's crimson scarf. A rope to form a sling was tied around her waist and another around her knees. Roland was similarly tied. Question: For how long did Diane know the Cathars? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- a day
- not enough information
- two weeks
- her whole life
Answer: her whole life

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I recall just one case of its kind. In my first year out of high school in college, I didn't quite get along with one vocal pipsqueak of a guy. Mid-year one afternoon post-dismissal, a small white car drove past dangerously close to me and honked as I made my way to the bus stand home. If there had actually been any malice intended, I would have been caught out totally by surprise. The next day, he wondered aloud why I did not respond or react to him flippantly wanting to ram me with his car as he drove by. To think of it, I had already taken a swipe at another guy whom I suspected of being behind the wheel less than an hour earlier. Professing some half-hearted disinterest, I thought and felt to myself that this episode wasn't over - yet. Fast forward some 4560 days later, this guy is suddenly absent from college for almost a week. Successive class lecturers note that it is not like him to skip classes without a valid reason. Late on the second day of absence, another lecturer asks our class about him. "His car crashed.", I state almost flippantly, with a weak spirit of retribution shining inside my gut. But as you would realize from answering this question it later turned out to be true. While driving at quite a clip near his home, he had barreled through a residential cross-junction and broadsided a delivery van that had charged through the open junction with no regulating traffic lights. The van ended up upside down on the road shoulder and his parents-issued car was out of commission for like, three weeks. He suffered a concussion and a shattered nasal septum from the impact and police issued the van driver a ticket for dangerous driving. Basically, he had joked about striking me with his car hit-and-run and I had later joked to that lecturer and the class that he had crashed his car - and it turned out I was right. Question: Who drove the car? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- A young man.
- An older man.
- An old woman
Answer:
A young man.