Article: Frank looked at us and said, ''My Dad was a fisherman. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish.'' His voice dropped a bit. ''When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had an old truck which was older than he was. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he drove toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!'' He paused and then went on, ''I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, 'No, Dad. I'm too old for a goodbye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss.'' ''My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield . 'You're right,' he said. 'You are a big boy....a man. I won't kiss you anymore.'' Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. ''It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats.'' Question: In what tone did Frank tell of his father? Yes or no, is the answer "Regretful."?
No

Article: Nowadays more and more people are trapped in too busy work to relax themselves. We have no time to tell a bed-time story to our children, or enjoy a nice dinner with our family, or take a break to think about how we live the precious life, or even meet friends. All we notice is that the distinctions that used to guide and steady us --between Sunday and Monday, public and private, here and there--are gone. We have more ways to communicate, but less and less to say. Partly because we're so busy communicating. Maybe that's why more and more people I know, even if they have no religious belief, seem to be turning to yoga, or meditation, or tai chi. Some friends of mine try to go on long walks every Sunday, or to "forget" their cell phones at home. A series of tests in recent years has shown that their brains become both calmer and sharper after spending time in quiet rural settings. In my own case, I often turn to extreme measures to try to keep my sanity and ensure that I have time to do nothing at all. I've not yet used a cell phone and I've never Tweeted or entered Face book. I try not to go online till my day's writing is finished, and I moved from Manhattan to rural Japan. None of this is a matter of principle or asceticism : it's just pure selfishness. Nothing makes me feel better-----calmer, clearer and happier----than being in one place, absorbed in a book, a conversation, a piece of music. It's actually something deeper than mere happiness: it's joy, which David Steindl-Rast describes as "that kind of happiness that doesn't depend on what happens." That is the highest of the highest we have been longing for--The Joy of Quiet. Question: Which of the following is right? Yes or no, is the answer "Slowing down to find deep-down joy is necessary."?
No

Article: While I was waiting outside my wife's office building for her to get out of work, I saw a beggar coming my way from across the parking lot. "I hope he doesn't ask me for any money," I thought. He didn't. He came and sat in front of the bus stop, but he didn't look like he could have enough money to ride the bus. After a few minutes he spoke. "That's a pretty car," he said, pointing to my car. He was ragged , but he had an air of dignity about himself. I gave him a smile and continued cleaning my car. He sat there quietly as I worked. The expected asking for money never came. As the silence between us widened, it seemed that a voice inside me said, "Ask him if he needs any help." I was sure that he would say "yes", but I listened to the inner voice. "Do you need any help?" I asked. He answered in three simple but meaningful words that I shall never forget. We often look for wisdom in great men and women, and we expect it from those of higher learning and achievements. I expected nothing but a dirty hand from him, but he said three words that shook me. "Don't we all?" he said. I was feeling high, successful and important above a beggar in the street, until those three words hit me like a shot. Don't we all? I needed help. Maybe not for a bus fare or for a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached in my wallet and gave him not only for a bus fare, but enough to get a warm meal and shelter for the day. Those three little words still ring true. No matter how much you have, no matter how much you have achieved, you need help, too. No matter how little you have, no matter how loaded you are with problems, even without money or a place to sleep, you can give help. Question: The story happened _ . Yes or no, is the answer "outside an office building"?
Yes