The bright Sunday morning sun illuminated the stained glass windows, diffusing multi-colored hues across the congregation. Attendance is up today, thought Greg. As the organist was nearing the end of the Prelude, he stepped up to the podium. "Please take your hymnals and turn to page 23, and let's stand and sing 'Holy, Holy, Holy.'" Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning, our song shall rise to Thee... As Greg sang and conducted the 4/4 pattern, which he could do in his sleep, his mind began to wander. Shouldn't he feel guilty about what he was thinking last night while kissing Cynthia on the couch? His actions had been within the bounds of acceptable behavior. He had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. But what about his thoughts? It wasn't what he did with Cynthia--it was what he wanted to do. He didn't want to dishonor her or his commitment to God. But his feelings had been only natural. God created humans and gave them sexual desire. Wasn't it okay to want to have sex, as long as you didn't actually do it? Then he remembered the passage from Matthew 5:28. But I say to you, that whosoever shall look on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart. At the end of the hymn, Greg stepped back and Dr. Huff went to the podium and said a prayer. Then there were announcements, two more hymns, and a chorus. After the offering, it was time for the choir to sing their anthem. When Greg motioned to the choir to stand, Cynthia smiled at him from the Alto section. She was so incredibly beautiful. Standing there in her choir robe, she looked like a redheaded angel. If they could just get married, Greg could stop feeling guilty about his desire for her. What does Greg wish he and Cynthia could do? - not enough information - Have a family - Go for a walk - Go to church together
Have a family

(Question)
Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Morzeny believed that the cold: - Made him sell more apartments - Made him insane - Made his beginning stage arthritis worse - not enough information
(Answer)
Made his beginning stage arthritis worse

Ques: I already gave this example in another post but I think it was a really interesting situation with an interesting outcome so I'm going to repeat it. When I was 21 years old I produced a play. It was actually my second. The first was really successful. With the second I bit off a lot more than I could chew and I got too big for my britches and I ended up with a sprawling money eating disaster that caused me to have to move to a poor part of town and to go to court with my publicist and to be in debt for a couple of years. I could have absolutely let this ruin me and discourage me. And I realized this was a very delicate situation for my creativity and my sense of hope for the future. So I said to myself one day, "let me take a walk to the park and have this situation out with myself once and for all." Two blocks from my house was this wonderful neo classical park with beautiful stairs leading from level to level. I walked up and down the stairs and basically said to myself "this was a failure. I am having a failure experience. But I have a choice of how I look at this. And the big Takeaway for me with this experience is that I have talent and there is a big creative future for me. And I have hope. I have to slow down. I have to make sure I don't get ahead of myself. I definitely have to clean up this mess and be patient for however long it takes . But bottom line the big take away from this experience is that I have talent and I have a future and I have Hope." It was one of the most amazing moments I've ever had with myself. There are about 100 other experiences in my life where I wish I had had a conversation like this. This one was a treasure. Why did the second play fail? - He didn't have enough experience - not enough information - He bit off more than he could chew. - He didn't prepare enough
Ans: He bit off more than he could chew.

In 1981, when I was nine years old, my father took me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. Although I had to squint my eyes during some of the scary scenes, I loved it in particular because I was fairly sure that Harrison Ford's character was based on my dad. My father was a palaeontologist at the University of Chicago, and I'd gone on several field trips with him to the Rocky Mountains, where he seemed to transform into a rock-hammer-wielding superhero. That illusion was shattered some years later when I figured out what he actually did: far from spending his time climbing dangerous cliffs and digging up dinosaurs, Jack Sepkoski spent most of his career in front of a computer, building what would become the first comprehensive database on the fossil record of life. The analysis that he and his colleagues performed revealed new understandings of phenomena such as diversification and extinction, and changed the way that palaeontologists work. But he was about as different from Indiana Jones as you can get. The intertwining tales of my father and his discipline contain lessons for the current era of algorithmic analysis and artificial intelligence (AI), and points to the value-laden way in which we "see" data. My dad was part of a group of innovators in palaeontology who identified as "palaeobiologists" meaning that they approached their science not as a branch of geology, but rather as the study of the biology and evolution of past life. Since Charles Darwin's time, palaeontology especially the study of the marine invertebrates that make up most of the record involved descriptive tasks such as classifying or correlating fossils with layers of the Earth (known as stratigraphy). Some invertebrate palaeontologists studied evolution, too, but often these studies were regarded by evolutionary biologists and geneticists as little more than "stamp collecting". What does the author probably think about paleontology today? - The author probably gives it respect but doesn't want a career in it - not enough information - the author probably wishes he were a paleontologist - the author probably doesn't care whether he is a paleontologist or not
The author probably gives it respect but doesn't want a career in it