Questões de Concurso Sobre inglês
Foram encontradas 25.776 questões
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
I. ‘hug, arm-wrestle, back-slap, whatever’ are adverbs. II. ‘These’ is incorrect, as it should have been ‘This’. III. The correct translation is ‘Tais pessoas são capazes de distribuir abraços, brigar com os braços, dar golpes nas costas, todas essas coisas’.
Which ones are INCORRECT?
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
I. fraught (l.05) for hostile. II. starkers (l.08) for crazy. III. land (l.33) for ground.
Which ones completely change the meaning of the utterance?
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
•happily (l.08).
•physically (l.09). •badly (l.16).
I. They are all adverbs. II. They follow the same spelling rule. III. The suffix ‘ly’ is added to a noun in all cases.
Which ones are INCORRECT?
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
I. The blank in line 14 should be filled in with ‘are,
BECAUSE
II. The subject is plural.
Considering the sentences above:
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
I. It has a main verb and an adverb particle. II. It has a grammatical mistake because a phrasal verb cannot be separated. III. It means ‘to become extremely emotional’.
Which ones are correct?
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
I. hypothetical or remotely possible. II. factual or could be factual. III. necessary.
Which ones are correct?
Instruction: Answer question based on the following text.
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-eurohug-is-it-a-thing-a-global-guide-toembrace
TEXT TWO:
After so long a pause that Marcia felt sure whoever it was must have gone away, the front doorbell rang again, a courteously brief ‘still waiting.’
It would be a neighbor child on the way home from school with a handful of basketball tickets. Or an agent tardily taking orders for cheap and gaudy Christmas cards.
The trip down to the door would be laborious. Doctor Bowen had wanted her to avoid the stairs as much as possible from now on. But the diffident summons sounded very plaintive in its competition with the savage swish of sleet against the windows.
Raising herself heavily on her elbows, Marcia tried to squeeze a prompt decision out of her tousled blonde head with the tips of slim fingers. The mirror of the vanity table ventured a comforting comment on the girlish cornflower fringe that Paul always said brought out the blue in her eyes. She pressed her palms hard on the yellow curls, debating whether to make the effort. In any event she would have to go down soon, for the luncheon table was standing exactly as they had left it, and Paul would be returning in half an hour.
Edging clumsily to the side of the bed, she sat up, momentarily swept with vertigo, and fumbled with her stockinged toes for the shapeless slippers in which she had awkwardly paddled about through two previous campaigns in behalf of humanity’s perpetuity. When done with them, this time, Marcia expected to throw the slippers away.
Roberta eagerly reached up both chubby arms and bounced ecstatically at the approach of the outstretched hands. Wellie scrambled up out of his blocks and detonated an ominously sloppy sneeze.
Marcia said “Please don’t tell me you’ve been taking cold again.”
Wellie denied the accusation with a vigorous shake of his head, whooped hoarsely, and began slowly pacing the intermittent clatter of their procession down he dingy stairway, the flat of his small hand squeaking on the cold rail of the ugly yellow banister.
The bulky figure of a woman was silhouetted on the frosted glass panels of the street door. Wellie, with a wobbly index finger in his nose, halted to reconnoiter as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and his mother gave him a gentle push forward. They were in the front hall now, Marcia irresolutely considering whether to brave the blizzard. Wallie decided this matter by inquiring who it was in a penetrating treble, reinforcing his desire to know by twisting the knob with ineffective hands. Marcia shifted Roberta into the crook of her other arm and opened the door to a breath-taking swirl of stinging snow, the first real storm of the season.
DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. White Banners. New York: P. F. Collier &
Son Corporation, 1936.
TEXT TWO:
After so long a pause that Marcia felt sure whoever it was must have gone away, the front doorbell rang again, a courteously brief ‘still waiting.’
It would be a neighbor child on the way home from school with a handful of basketball tickets. Or an agent tardily taking orders for cheap and gaudy Christmas cards.
The trip down to the door would be laborious. Doctor Bowen had wanted her to avoid the stairs as much as possible from now on. But the diffident summons sounded very plaintive in its competition with the savage swish of sleet against the windows.
Raising herself heavily on her elbows, Marcia tried to squeeze a prompt decision out of her tousled blonde head with the tips of slim fingers. The mirror of the vanity table ventured a comforting comment on the girlish cornflower fringe that Paul always said brought out the blue in her eyes. She pressed her palms hard on the yellow curls, debating whether to make the effort. In any event she would have to go down soon, for the luncheon table was standing exactly as they had left it, and Paul would be returning in half an hour.
Edging clumsily to the side of the bed, she sat up, momentarily swept with vertigo, and fumbled with her stockinged toes for the shapeless slippers in which she had awkwardly paddled about through two previous campaigns in behalf of humanity’s perpetuity. When done with them, this time, Marcia expected to throw the slippers away.
Roberta eagerly reached up both chubby arms and bounced ecstatically at the approach of the outstretched hands. Wellie scrambled up out of his blocks and detonated an ominously sloppy sneeze.
Marcia said “Please don’t tell me you’ve been taking cold again.”
Wellie denied the accusation with a vigorous shake of his head, whooped hoarsely, and began slowly pacing the intermittent clatter of their procession down he dingy stairway, the flat of his small hand squeaking on the cold rail of the ugly yellow banister.
The bulky figure of a woman was silhouetted on the frosted glass panels of the street door. Wellie, with a wobbly index finger in his nose, halted to reconnoiter as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and his mother gave him a gentle push forward. They were in the front hall now, Marcia irresolutely considering whether to brave the blizzard. Wallie decided this matter by inquiring who it was in a penetrating treble, reinforcing his desire to know by twisting the knob with ineffective hands. Marcia shifted Roberta into the crook of her other arm and opened the door to a breath-taking swirl of stinging snow, the first real storm of the season.
DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. White Banners. New York: P. F. Collier &
Son Corporation, 1936.
TEXT TWO:
After so long a pause that Marcia felt sure whoever it was must have gone away, the front doorbell rang again, a courteously brief ‘still waiting.’
It would be a neighbor child on the way home from school with a handful of basketball tickets. Or an agent tardily taking orders for cheap and gaudy Christmas cards.
The trip down to the door would be laborious. Doctor Bowen had wanted her to avoid the stairs as much as possible from now on. But the diffident summons sounded very plaintive in its competition with the savage swish of sleet against the windows.
Raising herself heavily on her elbows, Marcia tried to squeeze a prompt decision out of her tousled blonde head with the tips of slim fingers. The mirror of the vanity table ventured a comforting comment on the girlish cornflower fringe that Paul always said brought out the blue in her eyes. She pressed her palms hard on the yellow curls, debating whether to make the effort. In any event she would have to go down soon, for the luncheon table was standing exactly as they had left it, and Paul would be returning in half an hour.
Edging clumsily to the side of the bed, she sat up, momentarily swept with vertigo, and fumbled with her stockinged toes for the shapeless slippers in which she had awkwardly paddled about through two previous campaigns in behalf of humanity’s perpetuity. When done with them, this time, Marcia expected to throw the slippers away.
Roberta eagerly reached up both chubby arms and bounced ecstatically at the approach of the outstretched hands. Wellie scrambled up out of his blocks and detonated an ominously sloppy sneeze.
Marcia said “Please don’t tell me you’ve been taking cold again.”
Wellie denied the accusation with a vigorous shake of his head, whooped hoarsely, and began slowly pacing the intermittent clatter of their procession down he dingy stairway, the flat of his small hand squeaking on the cold rail of the ugly yellow banister.
The bulky figure of a woman was silhouetted on the frosted glass panels of the street door. Wellie, with a wobbly index finger in his nose, halted to reconnoiter as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and his mother gave him a gentle push forward. They were in the front hall now, Marcia irresolutely considering whether to brave the blizzard. Wallie decided this matter by inquiring who it was in a penetrating treble, reinforcing his desire to know by twisting the knob with ineffective hands. Marcia shifted Roberta into the crook of her other arm and opened the door to a breath-taking swirl of stinging snow, the first real storm of the season.
DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. White Banners. New York: P. F. Collier &
Son Corporation, 1936.
TEXT TWO:
After so long a pause that Marcia felt sure whoever it was must have gone away, the front doorbell rang again, a courteously brief ‘still waiting.’
It would be a neighbor child on the way home from school with a handful of basketball tickets. Or an agent tardily taking orders for cheap and gaudy Christmas cards.
The trip down to the door would be laborious. Doctor Bowen had wanted her to avoid the stairs as much as possible from now on. But the diffident summons sounded very plaintive in its competition with the savage swish of sleet against the windows.
Raising herself heavily on her elbows, Marcia tried to squeeze a prompt decision out of her tousled blonde head with the tips of slim fingers. The mirror of the vanity table ventured a comforting comment on the girlish cornflower fringe that Paul always said brought out the blue in her eyes. She pressed her palms hard on the yellow curls, debating whether to make the effort. In any event she would have to go down soon, for the luncheon table was standing exactly as they had left it, and Paul would be returning in half an hour.
Edging clumsily to the side of the bed, she sat up, momentarily swept with vertigo, and fumbled with her stockinged toes for the shapeless slippers in which she had awkwardly paddled about through two previous campaigns in behalf of humanity’s perpetuity. When done with them, this time, Marcia expected to throw the slippers away.
Roberta eagerly reached up both chubby arms and bounced ecstatically at the approach of the outstretched hands. Wellie scrambled up out of his blocks and detonated an ominously sloppy sneeze.
Marcia said “Please don’t tell me you’ve been taking cold again.”
Wellie denied the accusation with a vigorous shake of his head, whooped hoarsely, and began slowly pacing the intermittent clatter of their procession down he dingy stairway, the flat of his small hand squeaking on the cold rail of the ugly yellow banister.
The bulky figure of a woman was silhouetted on the frosted glass panels of the street door. Wellie, with a wobbly index finger in his nose, halted to reconnoiter as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and his mother gave him a gentle push forward. They were in the front hall now, Marcia irresolutely considering whether to brave the blizzard. Wallie decided this matter by inquiring who it was in a penetrating treble, reinforcing his desire to know by twisting the knob with ineffective hands. Marcia shifted Roberta into the crook of her other arm and opened the door to a breath-taking swirl of stinging snow, the first real storm of the season.
DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. White Banners. New York: P. F. Collier &
Son Corporation, 1936.
TEXT TWO:
After so long a pause that Marcia felt sure whoever it was must have gone away, the front doorbell rang again, a courteously brief ‘still waiting.’
It would be a neighbor child on the way home from school with a handful of basketball tickets. Or an agent tardily taking orders for cheap and gaudy Christmas cards.
The trip down to the door would be laborious. Doctor Bowen had wanted her to avoid the stairs as much as possible from now on. But the diffident summons sounded very plaintive in its competition with the savage swish of sleet against the windows.
Raising herself heavily on her elbows, Marcia tried to squeeze a prompt decision out of her tousled blonde head with the tips of slim fingers. The mirror of the vanity table ventured a comforting comment on the girlish cornflower fringe that Paul always said brought out the blue in her eyes. She pressed her palms hard on the yellow curls, debating whether to make the effort. In any event she would have to go down soon, for the luncheon table was standing exactly as they had left it, and Paul would be returning in half an hour.
Edging clumsily to the side of the bed, she sat up, momentarily swept with vertigo, and fumbled with her stockinged toes for the shapeless slippers in which she had awkwardly paddled about through two previous campaigns in behalf of humanity’s perpetuity. When done with them, this time, Marcia expected to throw the slippers away.
Roberta eagerly reached up both chubby arms and bounced ecstatically at the approach of the outstretched hands. Wellie scrambled up out of his blocks and detonated an ominously sloppy sneeze.
Marcia said “Please don’t tell me you’ve been taking cold again.”
Wellie denied the accusation with a vigorous shake of his head, whooped hoarsely, and began slowly pacing the intermittent clatter of their procession down he dingy stairway, the flat of his small hand squeaking on the cold rail of the ugly yellow banister.
The bulky figure of a woman was silhouetted on the frosted glass panels of the street door. Wellie, with a wobbly index finger in his nose, halted to reconnoiter as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and his mother gave him a gentle push forward. They were in the front hall now, Marcia irresolutely considering whether to brave the blizzard. Wallie decided this matter by inquiring who it was in a penetrating treble, reinforcing his desire to know by twisting the knob with ineffective hands. Marcia shifted Roberta into the crook of her other arm and opened the door to a breath-taking swirl of stinging snow, the first real storm of the season.
DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. White Banners. New York: P. F. Collier &
Son Corporation, 1936.
Instruction: answer the question based one the following text.
Consider the following sentences about the text:
I. In the last paragraph, there’s a reference to a movie from the 90s. The text only makes sense if you remember and understand its plot.
II. The text refers to a modern problem faced online concerning security and strong passwords.
III. The narrative makes humour with the fact that people find hard to keep track of the passwords and have to re-set them often.
Which ones are correct?
Instruction: answer the question based one the following text.
Consider the expression “iH8You69” (line 43) and the following sentences:
I. It plays with the sound of the word ‘eight’ and ‘hate’.
II. It is a slang commonly used in texting.
III. It is an abbreviation.
Which ones are correct?
Instruction: answer the question based one the following text.
Conheça nossos planos