what is the adjective in the following sentence? the car moved very slowly down the street, stopping at every light.

What tone do these lines convey?Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
A. a formal and reserved tone
B. a conversational and inquisitive tone
C. a dissatisfied and pessimistic tone
D. a hopeful and idealistic tone

Alexander the Great’s empire was eventually divided up into _____ powerful kingdoms.

A narrative poem is very short and has a funny shape.


TrueFalse

A traditional thesaurus may be used if an online thesaurus cannot be located because the information is the same in both types.

What makes Montresor feel sick?

Which sentences in this excerpt from Leo Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich reflect the author’s opinion that the members of the rising middle class can never throw off their emotional masks?Apart from this lying, or because of it, what most tormented Ivan Ilyich was that no one pitied him as he wished to be pitied. At certain moments after prolonged suffering he wished most of all (though he would have been ashamed to confess it) for someone to pity him as a sick child is pitied. He longed to be petted and comforted. He knew he was an important functionary, that he had a beard turning grey, and that therefore what he longed for was impossible, but still he longed for it and in Gerasim's attitude towards him there was something akin to what he wished for, and so that attitude comforted him. Ivan Ilyich wanted to weep, wanted to be petted and cried over, and then his colleague Shebek would come, and instead of weeping and being petted, Ivan Ilyich would assume a serious, severe, and profound air, and by force of habit would express his opinion on a decision of the Court of Cassation and would stubbornly insist on that view. This falsity around him and within him did more than anything else to poison his last days.

It was morning. He knew it was morning because Gerasim had gone, and Peter the footman had come and put out the candles, drawn back one of the curtains, and begun quietly to tidy up. Whether it was morning or evening, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, it was all just the same: the gnawing, unmitigated, agonizing pain, never ceasing for an instant, the consciousness of life inexorably waning but not yet extinguished, the approach of that ever dreaded and hateful Death which was the only reality, and always the same falsity. What were days, weeks, hours, in such a case?