E) Once upon a time there was a little girl called Cinderella. Her mother was dead, and she lived with her father and two elder sisters

D) With such happiness, I sometimes sit out on our terrace at sunset and look over a vast green lawn to the lake in the distance, and beyond the lake the reassuring mountains, and in this mood think of nothing, but enjoy their magnificent serenity.

F) My name is Joe. That is what my collegue, Milton Davidson, calls me. He is a programmer and I am a computer. I am part of the Multivac-complex and am connected with other parts all over the world. I know everything. Almost everything.

I am Milton’s private computer. His Joe. He understands more about computers than anyone in the world, and I am his experimental model. He has made me speak better than any other computer can. (Isaac Asimov, True Love)

g) One can ready oneself for death. I see death as more of a dynamic than a static event. The actual physical manifestation of the absence of life is simply the ultimate step of a process that leads inevitably to that stage. In the interim, before the absolute end, one can do much to make life as meaningful as possible. What would have devastated me was to discover that I had infected my wife, Jeanne, and my daughter, Camera. I do not think it would have made any difference, on this score, whether I had contracted AIDS “innocently” from a blood transfusion or in one of the ways that most of society disapproves of, such as homosexual contacts or drug addiction. The overwhelming sense of guilt and shame would be the same in either case, if I had infected another human being. (Arthur Ashe, Days of Grace)

2. (A) Matching stories. Here are the opening and closing paragraphs of four different books. Read them carefully and match them up. Define the story types.

a) I was born on 16^th April 1889, at eight o’clock at night, in East Lane, Walworth. Soon after, we moved to West Square, St. George’s Road, Lambeth. According to Mother my world was a happy one.

b) “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man left on earth!” Netta faced him defiantly, a tiny figure shaking with outrage, her spirit as fiery as the color of her copper curls. “The feeling is mutual,” he snapped back through tight lips.

c) At the palace the King was glad to welcome his son’s bride. He arranged a magnificent wedding for the Prince and his chosen wife. The wedding feast lasted a whole week and they all lived happily ever after.

f) When I have finished writing, I shall enclose this whole manuscript in an envelope and address it to Poirot. And then — what shall it be? Veronal? There would be a kind of poetic justice. Not that I take any responsibility for Mrs. Ferrars’s death. I was the direct consequence of her own actions. I feel no pity for her.

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