Input: Sometimes a full Moon moves through Earths shadow. This is a lunar eclipse . During a total lunar eclipse, the Moon travels completely in Earths umbra. During a partial lunar eclipse, only a portion of the Moon enters Earths umbra. When the Moon passes through Earths penumbra, it is a penumbral eclipse. Since Earths shadow is large, a lunar eclipse lasts for hours. Anyone with a view of the Moon can see a lunar eclipse. So unlike a solar eclipse, it doesnt get dark on Earth. Instead it gets dark on the Moon. Partial lunar eclipses occur at least twice a year, but total lunar eclipses are less common. The Moon glows with a dull red coloring during a total lunar eclipse.
"How is a lunar eclipse different from a solar eclipse?" is "A solar eclipse causes the earth to go dark"?
Output: yes
Input: Allan crouched over his desk once more, pen in hand and mind blank. He contemplated a story, an outline he had laboriously constructed some time ago. He had filled his pen and raised it, the nib descending towards the paper, before the sound came: the gentle, persistent tapping of the gnarled, primeval willow touching the window with long, insistent fingers. His eyes awoke with a passionate, determined flame, though the only light came from the glutted moon. Allan filled page after page, the words escaping from his mind onto the paper. Where before they had marched in regiments, practiced in ranks and followed their leaders' commands, the words now escaped in their true forms, unhindered by any stricture. He continued long into the night, until the eldritch orb had sunk into the waiting hands of the willow, raised perpetually skyward. Arthur looked up from the results of a night's frenzied labors and looked Allan in the eye. "What is this?" he queried, indicating the pages he held in his left hand. "I decided that since I wasn't having much success with more traditional stories, I might see what sort of work I produced if I let my imagination go freely," Allan replied, somewhat less self-assured than he had been the previous night. "What in G-d's name could have possessed you to do such a thing," cried Arthur, nearly raising his voice. "After all I said the day before, why have you abandoned centuries of literary progress for some self-indulgent fantasy?" He shook the papers at Allan, raising them like a belt above the head of a disobedient son. "This is nothing but a glorified Grimm's tale, a miscarried child of Stoker, a creation less fit to be published than to be told around an open fire at the hovel of some peasant!" He spoke the last word with such heavy intonation that Allan shrank back before the physical wave of sound emanating from Arthur's throat. "Do you hate the modern system of literature? Do you personally despise the works the Enlightenment or the progress made since Shakespeare?" For a moment, Allan could hardly do more than shake his head. "No, of course not I " "Then why," Arthur barreled on, "do you disregard them all and return to this superstitious babble, this morbid, paganistic drivel?
"When Allan fills pages without stricture, how does Arthur react?" is "He is angry"?
Output: yes
Input: Captured Moments by Will Shetterly I remember Papa's stopbox, a teal blue Tiempo Capturado that Mama brought home for his birthday. It was huge and inefficient, and she should never have spent so many pesos on a toy, but Papa would not let her return it. He used it to preserve baby tomatoes, cucumbers, and strawberries in translucent cubes that he stored in the pantry for spring-time meals in the middle of winter. Mama kept her mink jacket, a family hand-me-down, safe from time in a stopbox, and lent the capturador to my uncle for his stamp collection. Sometimes they would let us little ones to seal a treasured toy or a last piece of birthday cake until we begged them for its release, usually a few hours after enclosing it. When my father died, a year after my mother, my sisters and I cleaned out their apartment. We found our baby shoes protected in stopboxes. I took mine home, where they sat above my computer while I worked on my first play. One night when I did not believe love had ever existed for anyone, I used my own capturador, a sleek titanium Sanyo Tardar Ahora, to undo the stopbox. Bringing my face close to the shoes, I breathed deeply of air that my parents had trapped while closing up that symbol of their love for me. The instant would have been improved had my baby shoes been cleaned before they were encased. But as soon as I coughed, I laughed, and I did not try to kill myself that night.
"What was mamas mink jacket?" is "Stamp collection"?
Output:
no