Reading Comprehension

What, according to the writer, is the difference between an aggressive action and effective action?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

An aggressive leader initiates a series of moves that begin by bringing him much power. Slowly, however, his power reaches a peak, and soon everything turns against him. His numerous enemies band together; trying to maintain his power, he exhausts himself going in this direction and that inevitably he collapses. The reason for this pattern is that the aggressive person is rarely in full control. He cannot see more than a couple of moves ahead, cannot see the consequences of this bold move or of that move. Because he is constantly being forced to react to the moves of his ever growing host of enemies and to the unforeseen consequences of his own rash actions, his aggressive energy is turned against him. 
In the realm of power, it is important to ask—what is the point of chasing here and there, trying to solve problems and defeat enemies when not in control of things? The answer is simple: the idea of power is wrong. Aggressive action is mistaken for effective action. And most often the most effective action is to stay back, keep calm, and let others be frustrated by the traps laid for them, playing for long-term power rather than quick victory.
It needs to be remembered that the essence of power is the ability to keep the initiative, to get others to react to our moves, to keep the opponent and those lurking around on the defensive. When we make other people to come to us, we suddenly become the ones controlling the situation. And the one who has the control has the power. Two things must happen to place a person in this position: We must ourselves learn to master our emotions, and never allow ourselves to be influenced by anger; meanwhile, however, we must keep playing on people’s natural tendency to react angrily when pushed and baited. In the long run, the ability to make other come to us is a weapon far more powerful than any tool of aggression.
This is a delicate trick and can be performed only by those who have mastered the art. All of us have only so much energy, and there are moments when our energies are at their peak. When we make other person come to us, he wears himself out, wasting his energy on the trip. Another advantage that lies with the person to whom the other person comes is that he operates in an unknown territory. Being on hostile ground makes him nervous and often he rushes his actions and makes mistakes. For negotiations or meetings, it is always wise to lure others into our territory, or in the territory of our choice. We have our bearings, while they see nothing familiar and are subtly placed on the defensive.
Manipulation is a dangerous game. Once someone suspects he is being manipulated, it becomes harder and harder to control him. But when we make our opponents to come to us, we create an illusion that he is controlling the situation. He does not feel the strings that pull him. Everything depends on the sweetness of the bait. If the trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of the opponents’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality. The greedier they become, the more they can be led around. If we can make other people dig their own graves, why should we sweat ourselves?
When other people are made to come to us, it is sometimes better to let them know that we have forced their hand. It is better to give up deception for overt manipulation. The psychological ramifications are profound. The person who makes others come to him appears powerful, demands respect, and often gets it. If on one occasion a person has made it a point of dignity that others must come to him and he has succeeded, they will continue to do so even after that person has stopped trying.

What is the characteristic that the author identifies with an aggressive person leading to his failure?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

An aggressive leader initiates a series of moves that begin by bringing him much power. Slowly, however, his power reaches a peak, and soon everything turns against him. His numerous enemies band together; trying to maintain his power, he exhausts himself going in this direction and that inevitably he collapses. The reason for this pattern is that the aggressive person is rarely in full control. He cannot see more than a couple of moves ahead, cannot see the consequences of this bold move or of that move. Because he is constantly being forced to react to the moves of his ever growing host of enemies and to the unforeseen consequences of his own rash actions, his aggressive energy is turned against him. 
In the realm of power, it is important to ask—what is the point of chasing here and there, trying to solve problems and defeat enemies when not in control of things? The answer is simple: the idea of power is wrong. Aggressive action is mistaken for effective action. And most often the most effective action is to stay back, keep calm, and let others be frustrated by the traps laid for them, playing for long-term power rather than quick victory.
It needs to be remembered that the essence of power is the ability to keep the initiative, to get others to react to our moves, to keep the opponent and those lurking around on the defensive. When we make other people to come to us, we suddenly become the ones controlling the situation. And the one who has the control has the power. Two things must happen to place a person in this position: We must ourselves learn to master our emotions, and never allow ourselves to be influenced by anger; meanwhile, however, we must keep playing on people’s natural tendency to react angrily when pushed and baited. In the long run, the ability to make other come to us is a weapon far more powerful than any tool of aggression.
This is a delicate trick and can be performed only by those who have mastered the art. All of us have only so much energy, and there are moments when our energies are at their peak. When we make other person come to us, he wears himself out, wasting his energy on the trip. Another advantage that lies with the person to whom the other person comes is that he operates in an unknown territory. Being on hostile ground makes him nervous and often he rushes his actions and makes mistakes. For negotiations or meetings, it is always wise to lure others into our territory, or in the territory of our choice. We have our bearings, while they see nothing familiar and are subtly placed on the defensive.
Manipulation is a dangerous game. Once someone suspects he is being manipulated, it becomes harder and harder to control him. But when we make our opponents to come to us, we create an illusion that he is controlling the situation. He does not feel the strings that pull him. Everything depends on the sweetness of the bait. If the trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of the opponents’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality. The greedier they become, the more they can be led around. If we can make other people dig their own graves, why should we sweat ourselves?
When other people are made to come to us, it is sometimes better to let them know that we have forced their hand. It is better to give up deception for overt manipulation. The psychological ramifications are profound. The person who makes others come to him appears powerful, demands respect, and often gets it. If on one occasion a person has made it a point of dignity that others must come to him and he has succeeded, they will continue to do so even after that person has stopped trying.

Which of the following is definitely true about the passage?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

An aggressive leader initiates a series of moves that begin by bringing him much power. Slowly, however, his power reaches a peak, and soon everything turns against him. His numerous enemies band together; trying to maintain his power, he exhausts himself going in this direction and that inevitably he collapses. The reason for this pattern is that the aggressive person is rarely in full control. He cannot see more than a couple of moves ahead, cannot see the consequences of this bold move or of that move. Because he is constantly being forced to react to the moves of his ever growing host of enemies and to the unforeseen consequences of his own rash actions, his aggressive energy is turned against him. 
In the realm of power, it is important to ask—what is the point of chasing here and there, trying to solve problems and defeat enemies when not in control of things? The answer is simple: the idea of power is wrong. Aggressive action is mistaken for effective action. And most often the most effective action is to stay back, keep calm, and let others be frustrated by the traps laid for them, playing for long-term power rather than quick victory.
It needs to be remembered that the essence of power is the ability to keep the initiative, to get others to react to our moves, to keep the opponent and those lurking around on the defensive. When we make other people to come to us, we suddenly become the ones controlling the situation. And the one who has the control has the power. Two things must happen to place a person in this position: We must ourselves learn to master our emotions, and never allow ourselves to be influenced by anger; meanwhile, however, we must keep playing on people’s natural tendency to react angrily when pushed and baited. In the long run, the ability to make other come to us is a weapon far more powerful than any tool of aggression.
This is a delicate trick and can be performed only by those who have mastered the art. All of us have only so much energy, and there are moments when our energies are at their peak. When we make other person come to us, he wears himself out, wasting his energy on the trip. Another advantage that lies with the person to whom the other person comes is that he operates in an unknown territory. Being on hostile ground makes him nervous and often he rushes his actions and makes mistakes. For negotiations or meetings, it is always wise to lure others into our territory, or in the territory of our choice. We have our bearings, while they see nothing familiar and are subtly placed on the defensive.
Manipulation is a dangerous game. Once someone suspects he is being manipulated, it becomes harder and harder to control him. But when we make our opponents to come to us, we create an illusion that he is controlling the situation. He does not feel the strings that pull him. Everything depends on the sweetness of the bait. If the trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of the opponents’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality. The greedier they become, the more they can be led around. If we can make other people dig their own graves, why should we sweat ourselves?
When other people are made to come to us, it is sometimes better to let them know that we have forced their hand. It is better to give up deception for overt manipulation. The psychological ramifications are profound. The person who makes others come to him appears powerful, demands respect, and often gets it. If on one occasion a person has made it a point of dignity that others must come to him and he has succeeded, they will continue to do so even after that person has stopped trying.

What is the essence of the passage?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

An aggressive leader initiates a series of moves that begin by bringing him much power. Slowly, however, his power reaches a peak, and soon everything turns against him. His numerous enemies band together; trying to maintain his power, he exhausts himself going in this direction and that inevitably he collapses. The reason for this pattern is that the aggressive person is rarely in full control. He cannot see more than a couple of moves ahead, cannot see the consequences of this bold move or of that move. Because he is constantly being forced to react to the moves of his ever growing host of enemies and to the unforeseen consequences of his own rash actions, his aggressive energy is turned against him. 
In the realm of power, it is important to ask—what is the point of chasing here and there, trying to solve problems and defeat enemies when not in control of things? The answer is simple: the idea of power is wrong. Aggressive action is mistaken for effective action. And most often the most effective action is to stay back, keep calm, and let others be frustrated by the traps laid for them, playing for long-term power rather than quick victory.
It needs to be remembered that the essence of power is the ability to keep the initiative, to get others to react to our moves, to keep the opponent and those lurking around on the defensive. When we make other people to come to us, we suddenly become the ones controlling the situation. And the one who has the control has the power. Two things must happen to place a person in this position: We must ourselves learn to master our emotions, and never allow ourselves to be influenced by anger; meanwhile, however, we must keep playing on people’s natural tendency to react angrily when pushed and baited. In the long run, the ability to make other come to us is a weapon far more powerful than any tool of aggression.
This is a delicate trick and can be performed only by those who have mastered the art. All of us have only so much energy, and there are moments when our energies are at their peak. When we make other person come to us, he wears himself out, wasting his energy on the trip. Another advantage that lies with the person to whom the other person comes is that he operates in an unknown territory. Being on hostile ground makes him nervous and often he rushes his actions and makes mistakes. For negotiations or meetings, it is always wise to lure others into our territory, or in the territory of our choice. We have our bearings, while they see nothing familiar and are subtly placed on the defensive.
Manipulation is a dangerous game. Once someone suspects he is being manipulated, it becomes harder and harder to control him. But when we make our opponents to come to us, we create an illusion that he is controlling the situation. He does not feel the strings that pull him. Everything depends on the sweetness of the bait. If the trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of the opponents’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality. The greedier they become, the more they can be led around. If we can make other people dig their own graves, why should we sweat ourselves?
When other people are made to come to us, it is sometimes better to let them know that we have forced their hand. It is better to give up deception for overt manipulation. The psychological ramifications are profound. The person who makes others come to him appears powerful, demands respect, and often gets it. If on one occasion a person has made it a point of dignity that others must come to him and he has succeeded, they will continue to do so even after that person has stopped trying.

Why, according to the passage, forms must keep changing from time to time?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

The human animal is distinguished by its constant creation of forms. Rarely expressing its emotions directly, it gives them form through language or through socially acceptable rituals. We cannot communicate our emotions without a form.
The forms that we create, however, change constantly—in fashion, in style, in all those human phenomena representing the mood of the moment. We are constantly altering the forms we have inherited from previous generations, and these changes are signs of life and vitality. Indeed, the things that don’t change, the forms that rigidify, come to look to us like death, and we destroy them. The young show this most clearly. Uncomfortable with the forms that society imposes upon them, having no set identity, they play with their own characters, trying, on a variety of masks and poses to express themselves. This is the vitality that drives the motor of form, creating constant changes in style.
Human creations evolve towards abstraction, towards being more mental and less material. This evolution is clear in art, which, in this century, made the great discovery of abstraction and conceptualism; it can also be seen in politics, which over the time have become less overtly violent, more complicated, indirect and cerebral. Warfare and strategy too have followed this pattern. Strategy began in the manipulation of armies on land, positioning them in ordered formations; on land, strategy is relatively two dimensional, and controlled by topography. But all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea, for commerce and colonization. And to protect their trading lanes they have had to learn how to fight at sea. Maritime warfare requires tremendous creativity and abstract thinking, since the lines are constantly shifting. Naval captains distinguish themselves by their ability to adapt to the literal fluidity of the terrain and to confuse the enemy with an abstract, hard-to-anticipate form. They are operating in a third dimension: the mind.
Back on land, guerilla warfare too demonstrates this evolution towards abstraction. T.E. Lawrence was perhaps the first modern strategist to develop the theory behind this kind of warfare, and to put it into practice. His ideas influenced Mao, who found in his writings an uncanny western equivalent to wei-chi. Lawrence was working with Arabs fighting for their territory against the Turks. His idea was to make the Arabs blend into the vast desert, never providing a target, never collecting together in one place. As the Turks scrambled to fight this vaporous army, they spread themselves thin, wasting energy in moving from place to place. They had the superior firepower but the Arabs kept the initiative by playing cat and mouse, giving the Turks nothing to hold on to, destroying their morale. “Most wars were wars of contact, ours should be a war of detachment,” Lawrence wrote. “We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast unknown desert, not disclosing ourselves till we attacked.”
This is the ultimate form of strategy. The war of engagement has become far too dangerous and costly; indirection and elusiveness yield far better results at a much lower cost. The main cost, in fact, is mental—the thinking it takes to align forces in scattered patterns, and to undermine the minds and psychology of the opponents. And nothing will infuriate and disorient them more than formlessness. In a world where wars of detachment are the order of the day, formlessness is crucial.

According to the passage, why did Borri maintain a dignified silence to the charges of heresy and witchcraft levelled against him by the Church?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

In the year 1653, a twenty-seven-year old Milan man named Francesco Borri claimed to have had a vision. He went around town telling one and all that the archangel Michael had appeared to him and announced that he had been chosen to be the capitano generale of the Army of the New Pope, an army that would seize and revitalize the world. The archangel had further revealed that Borri now had the power to see people’s souls, and that he would soon discover the philosopher’s stone—a long-sought-after substance that could change base metals into gold. Friends and acquaintances who heard Borri explain the vision, and who witnessed the change that had come over him, were impressed, for Borri had previously devoted himself to a life of wine, women and gambling. Now he gave all that up, plunging himself into the study of alchemy and talking only of mysticism and the occult.
The transformation was so sudden and miraculous, and Borri’s words were so filled with enthusiasm, that he began to create a following. Unfortunately, the Italian Inquisition began to notice him as well—they prosecuted anyone who delved into the occult—so he left Italy and began to wander Europe, from Austria to Holland, telling one and all that ‘to those who follow me all joy shall be granted.’ Wherever Borri stayed he attracted followers. His method was simple. He spoke of his vision, which had grown more and more elaborate, and offered to “look into” the soul of anyone who believed him (and they were many). Seemingly in a trance, he would stare at this new follower for several minutes, then claim to have seen the person’s soul, degree of enlightenment, and potential for spiritual greatness. If what he saw showed promise, he would add the person to his growing order of disciples, an honour indeed. 
The cult had six degrees, into which the disciples were assigned according to what Borri had glimpsed in their souls. With work and total devotion to the cult they could graduate to a higher degree. Borri—whom they called “His Excellency,” and “Universal Doctor”—demanded from them the strictest vows of poverty. All the goods and moneys they possessed had to be turned over to him. But they did not mind handing over their property, for Borri had told them, “I shall soon bring my chemical studies to a happy conclusion by the discovery of the philosopher’s stone, and by this means we shall have as much gold as we desire.”
Given his growing wealth, Borri began to change his style of living. Renting the most splendid apartment in the city into which he had temporarily settled, he would furnish it with fabulous furniture and accessories, which he had begun to collect. He would drive through city in a coach studded with jewels, with six magnificent black horses at its head. He never stayed too long in one place, and when he disappeared, saying he had more souls to gather into his flock, his reputation only grew in his absence. He became famous, although in fact he had never done a single concrete thing.
From all over Europe, the blind, the crippled, and the desperate came to visit Borri, for word had spread that he had healing powers. He asked no fee for his services, which only made him seem more marvellous, and indeed some claimed that in this or that city he had performed miracle cure. By only hinting at his accomplishments, he encouraged people’s imagination to blow them up to fantastic proportions. His wealth, for example, actually from the vast sums he was collecting from his increasingly select group of rich disciples; yet it was presumed that he had in fact perfected the philosopher’s stone. The Church continued to pursue him, denouncing him for heresy and witchcraft, and Borri’s response to these charges was a dignified silence; this only enhanced his reputation and made his followers more passionate. Only the great are persecuted, after all; how many understood Jesus Christ in his own time? Borri did not have to say a word—his followers now called the Pope the Antichrist.

The writer seems to suggest that

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

An aggressive leader initiates a series of moves that begin by bringing him much power. Slowly, however, his power reaches a peak, and soon everything turns against him. His numerous enemies band together; trying to maintain his power, he exhausts himself going in this direction and that inevitably he collapses. The reason for this pattern is that the aggressive person is rarely in full control. He cannot see more than a couple of moves ahead, cannot see the consequences of this bold move or of that move. Because he is constantly being forced to react to the moves of his ever growing host of enemies and to the unforeseen consequences of his own rash actions, his aggressive energy is turned against him. 
In the realm of power, it is important to ask—what is the point of chasing here and there, trying to solve problems and defeat enemies when not in control of things? The answer is simple: the idea of power is wrong. Aggressive action is mistaken for effective action. And most often the most effective action is to stay back, keep calm, and let others be frustrated by the traps laid for them, playing for long-term power rather than quick victory.
It needs to be remembered that the essence of power is the ability to keep the initiative, to get others to react to our moves, to keep the opponent and those lurking around on the defensive. When we make other people to come to us, we suddenly become the ones controlling the situation. And the one who has the control has the power. Two things must happen to place a person in this position: We must ourselves learn to master our emotions, and never allow ourselves to be influenced by anger; meanwhile, however, we must keep playing on people’s natural tendency to react angrily when pushed and baited. In the long run, the ability to make other come to us is a weapon far more powerful than any tool of aggression.
This is a delicate trick and can be performed only by those who have mastered the art. All of us have only so much energy, and there are moments when our energies are at their peak. When we make other person come to us, he wears himself out, wasting his energy on the trip. Another advantage that lies with the person to whom the other person comes is that he operates in an unknown territory. Being on hostile ground makes him nervous and often he rushes his actions and makes mistakes. For negotiations or meetings, it is always wise to lure others into our territory, or in the territory of our choice. We have our bearings, while they see nothing familiar and are subtly placed on the defensive.
Manipulation is a dangerous game. Once someone suspects he is being manipulated, it becomes harder and harder to control him. But when we make our opponents to come to us, we create an illusion that he is controlling the situation. He does not feel the strings that pull him. Everything depends on the sweetness of the bait. If the trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of the opponents’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality. The greedier they become, the more they can be led around. If we can make other people dig their own graves, why should we sweat ourselves?
When other people are made to come to us, it is sometimes better to let them know that we have forced their hand. It is better to give up deception for overt manipulation. The psychological ramifications are profound. The person who makes others come to him appears powerful, demands respect, and often gets it. If on one occasion a person has made it a point of dignity that others must come to him and he has succeeded, they will continue to do so even after that person has stopped trying.

What, according to the passage, renders form so important?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

The human animal is distinguished by its constant creation of forms. Rarely expressing its emotions directly, it gives them form through language or through socially acceptable rituals. We cannot communicate our emotions without a form.
The forms that we create, however, change constantly—in fashion, in style, in all those human phenomena representing the mood of the moment. We are constantly altering the forms we have inherited from previous generations, and these changes are signs of life and vitality. Indeed, the things that don’t change, the forms that rigidify, come to look to us like death, and we destroy them. The young show this most clearly. Uncomfortable with the forms that society imposes upon them, having no set identity, they play with their own characters, trying, on a variety of masks and poses to express themselves. This is the vitality that drives the motor of form, creating constant changes in style.
Human creations evolve towards abstraction, towards being more mental and less material. This evolution is clear in art, which, in this century, made the great discovery of abstraction and conceptualism; it can also be seen in politics, which over the time have become less overtly violent, more complicated, indirect and cerebral. Warfare and strategy too have followed this pattern. Strategy began in the manipulation of armies on land, positioning them in ordered formations; on land, strategy is relatively two dimensional, and controlled by topography. But all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea, for commerce and colonization. And to protect their trading lanes they have had to learn how to fight at sea. Maritime warfare requires tremendous creativity and abstract thinking, since the lines are constantly shifting. Naval captains distinguish themselves by their ability to adapt to the literal fluidity of the terrain and to confuse the enemy with an abstract, hard-to-anticipate form. They are operating in a third dimension: the mind.
Back on land, guerilla warfare too demonstrates this evolution towards abstraction. T.E. Lawrence was perhaps the first modern strategist to develop the theory behind this kind of warfare, and to put it into practice. His ideas influenced Mao, who found in his writings an uncanny western equivalent to wei-chi. Lawrence was working with Arabs fighting for their territory against the Turks. His idea was to make the Arabs blend into the vast desert, never providing a target, never collecting together in one place. As the Turks scrambled to fight this vaporous army, they spread themselves thin, wasting energy in moving from place to place. They had the superior firepower but the Arabs kept the initiative by playing cat and mouse, giving the Turks nothing to hold on to, destroying their morale. “Most wars were wars of contact, ours should be a war of detachment,” Lawrence wrote. “We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast unknown desert, not disclosing ourselves till we attacked.”
This is the ultimate form of strategy. The war of engagement has become far too dangerous and costly; indirection and elusiveness yield far better results at a much lower cost. The main cost, in fact, is mental—the thinking it takes to align forces in scattered patterns, and to undermine the minds and psychology of the opponents. And nothing will infuriate and disorient them more than formlessness. In a world where wars of detachment are the order of the day, formlessness is crucial.

Human creations these days are moving more towards abstractions because

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

The human animal is distinguished by its constant creation of forms. Rarely expressing its emotions directly, it gives them form through language or through socially acceptable rituals. We cannot communicate our emotions without a form.
The forms that we create, however, change constantly—in fashion, in style, in all those human phenomena representing the mood of the moment. We are constantly altering the forms we have inherited from previous generations, and these changes are signs of life and vitality. Indeed, the things that don’t change, the forms that rigidify, come to look to us like death, and we destroy them. The young show this most clearly. Uncomfortable with the forms that society imposes upon them, having no set identity, they play with their own characters, trying, on a variety of masks and poses to express themselves. This is the vitality that drives the motor of form, creating constant changes in style.
Human creations evolve towards abstraction, towards being more mental and less material. This evolution is clear in art, which, in this century, made the great discovery of abstraction and conceptualism; it can also be seen in politics, which over the time have become less overtly violent, more complicated, indirect and cerebral. Warfare and strategy too have followed this pattern. Strategy began in the manipulation of armies on land, positioning them in ordered formations; on land, strategy is relatively two dimensional, and controlled by topography. But all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea, for commerce and colonization. And to protect their trading lanes they have had to learn how to fight at sea. Maritime warfare requires tremendous creativity and abstract thinking, since the lines are constantly shifting. Naval captains distinguish themselves by their ability to adapt to the literal fluidity of the terrain and to confuse the enemy with an abstract, hard-to-anticipate form. They are operating in a third dimension: the mind.
Back on land, guerilla warfare too demonstrates this evolution towards abstraction. T.E. Lawrence was perhaps the first modern strategist to develop the theory behind this kind of warfare, and to put it into practice. His ideas influenced Mao, who found in his writings an uncanny western equivalent to wei-chi. Lawrence was working with Arabs fighting for their territory against the Turks. His idea was to make the Arabs blend into the vast desert, never providing a target, never collecting together in one place. As the Turks scrambled to fight this vaporous army, they spread themselves thin, wasting energy in moving from place to place. They had the superior firepower but the Arabs kept the initiative by playing cat and mouse, giving the Turks nothing to hold on to, destroying their morale. “Most wars were wars of contact, ours should be a war of detachment,” Lawrence wrote. “We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast unknown desert, not disclosing ourselves till we attacked.”
This is the ultimate form of strategy. The war of engagement has become far too dangerous and costly; indirection and elusiveness yield far better results at a much lower cost. The main cost, in fact, is mental—the thinking it takes to align forces in scattered patterns, and to undermine the minds and psychology of the opponents. And nothing will infuriate and disorient them more than formlessness. In a world where wars of detachment are the order of the day, formlessness is crucial.

According to the writer, all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea because

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

The human animal is distinguished by its constant creation of forms. Rarely expressing its emotions directly, it gives them form through language or through socially acceptable rituals. We cannot communicate our emotions without a form.
The forms that we create, however, change constantly—in fashion, in style, in all those human phenomena representing the mood of the moment. We are constantly altering the forms we have inherited from previous generations, and these changes are signs of life and vitality. Indeed, the things that don’t change, the forms that rigidify, come to look to us like death, and we destroy them. The young show this most clearly. Uncomfortable with the forms that society imposes upon them, having no set identity, they play with their own characters, trying, on a variety of masks and poses to express themselves. This is the vitality that drives the motor of form, creating constant changes in style.
Human creations evolve towards abstraction, towards being more mental and less material. This evolution is clear in art, which, in this century, made the great discovery of abstraction and conceptualism; it can also be seen in politics, which over the time have become less overtly violent, more complicated, indirect and cerebral. Warfare and strategy too have followed this pattern. Strategy began in the manipulation of armies on land, positioning them in ordered formations; on land, strategy is relatively two dimensional, and controlled by topography. But all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea, for commerce and colonization. And to protect their trading lanes they have had to learn how to fight at sea. Maritime warfare requires tremendous creativity and abstract thinking, since the lines are constantly shifting. Naval captains distinguish themselves by their ability to adapt to the literal fluidity of the terrain and to confuse the enemy with an abstract, hard-to-anticipate form. They are operating in a third dimension: the mind.
Back on land, guerilla warfare too demonstrates this evolution towards abstraction. T.E. Lawrence was perhaps the first modern strategist to develop the theory behind this kind of warfare, and to put it into practice. His ideas influenced Mao, who found in his writings an uncanny western equivalent to wei-chi. Lawrence was working with Arabs fighting for their territory against the Turks. His idea was to make the Arabs blend into the vast desert, never providing a target, never collecting together in one place. As the Turks scrambled to fight this vaporous army, they spread themselves thin, wasting energy in moving from place to place. They had the superior firepower but the Arabs kept the initiative by playing cat and mouse, giving the Turks nothing to hold on to, destroying their morale. “Most wars were wars of contact, ours should be a war of detachment,” Lawrence wrote. “We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast unknown desert, not disclosing ourselves till we attacked.”
This is the ultimate form of strategy. The war of engagement has become far too dangerous and costly; indirection and elusiveness yield far better results at a much lower cost. The main cost, in fact, is mental—the thinking it takes to align forces in scattered patterns, and to undermine the minds and psychology of the opponents. And nothing will infuriate and disorient them more than formlessness. In a world where wars of detachment are the order of the day, formlessness is crucial.

Why did the author term the Arab army engaging the Turks as 'vaporous army'?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

The human animal is distinguished by its constant creation of forms. Rarely expressing its emotions directly, it gives them form through language or through socially acceptable rituals. We cannot communicate our emotions without a form.
The forms that we create, however, change constantly—in fashion, in style, in all those human phenomena representing the mood of the moment. We are constantly altering the forms we have inherited from previous generations, and these changes are signs of life and vitality. Indeed, the things that don’t change, the forms that rigidify, come to look to us like death, and we destroy them. The young show this most clearly. Uncomfortable with the forms that society imposes upon them, having no set identity, they play with their own characters, trying, on a variety of masks and poses to express themselves. This is the vitality that drives the motor of form, creating constant changes in style.
Human creations evolve towards abstraction, towards being more mental and less material. This evolution is clear in art, which, in this century, made the great discovery of abstraction and conceptualism; it can also be seen in politics, which over the time have become less overtly violent, more complicated, indirect and cerebral. Warfare and strategy too have followed this pattern. Strategy began in the manipulation of armies on land, positioning them in ordered formations; on land, strategy is relatively two dimensional, and controlled by topography. But all the great powers have eventually taken to the sea, for commerce and colonization. And to protect their trading lanes they have had to learn how to fight at sea. Maritime warfare requires tremendous creativity and abstract thinking, since the lines are constantly shifting. Naval captains distinguish themselves by their ability to adapt to the literal fluidity of the terrain and to confuse the enemy with an abstract, hard-to-anticipate form. They are operating in a third dimension: the mind.
Back on land, guerilla warfare too demonstrates this evolution towards abstraction. T.E. Lawrence was perhaps the first modern strategist to develop the theory behind this kind of warfare, and to put it into practice. His ideas influenced Mao, who found in his writings an uncanny western equivalent to wei-chi. Lawrence was working with Arabs fighting for their territory against the Turks. His idea was to make the Arabs blend into the vast desert, never providing a target, never collecting together in one place. As the Turks scrambled to fight this vaporous army, they spread themselves thin, wasting energy in moving from place to place. They had the superior firepower but the Arabs kept the initiative by playing cat and mouse, giving the Turks nothing to hold on to, destroying their morale. “Most wars were wars of contact, ours should be a war of detachment,” Lawrence wrote. “We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast unknown desert, not disclosing ourselves till we attacked.”
This is the ultimate form of strategy. The war of engagement has become far too dangerous and costly; indirection and elusiveness yield far better results at a much lower cost. The main cost, in fact, is mental—the thinking it takes to align forces in scattered patterns, and to undermine the minds and psychology of the opponents. And nothing will infuriate and disorient them more than formlessness. In a world where wars of detachment are the order of the day, formlessness is crucial.

Why, according to the author, the idea of robbing the rich because he is rich did not occur to the Jew merchant?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

Some centuries before the Christian era, a Jew merchant, largely engaged in business on the Gold Coast, and reported to have made one of the largest fortunes of his time (held also in repute for much practical sagacity), left among his ledgers some general maxims concerning wealth, which have been preserved, strangely enough, even to our own days. They were held in considerable respect by the most active traders of the middle ages, especially by the Venetians, who even went so far in their admiration as to place a statue of the old Jew on the angle of one of their principle public buildings.
Of late years these writings have fallen into disrepute, being opposed in every particular to the spirit of modern commerce. Nevertheless we can reproduce a passage or two from them here, partly because they may interest the reader by their novelty; and chiefly because they will show him that it is possible for a very practical and acquisitive tradesman to hold, through a not unsuccessful career, that principle of distinction between well-gotten and ill-gotten wealth, which we must examine more completely in this.
He says, for instance, in one place: “the getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death:” adding in another, with the same meaning (he has a curious way of doubling his sayings): “treasures of wickedness profit nothing: but justice delivers from death.” Both these passages are notable for their assertion of death as the only real issue and sum of attainment by any unjust scheme of wealth. If we read, instead of ‘lying tongue’, ‘lying label, title, pretence, or advertisement,’ we shall more clearly perceive the bearing of the words on modern business.
The seeking of death is a grand expression of the true course of men’s toil in such business. We usually speak as if death pursued us, and we fled from him; but that is only so in rare instances. Ordinarily, he makes himself—makes himself beautiful—all-glorious; not like the King’s daughter, all-glorious within, but outwardly: his clothing of wrought gold. We pursue him frantically all our days, he flying or hiding from us. Our crowning success at three-score and ten is utterly and perfectly to seize, and hold him in his eternal integrity—robes, ashes, and sting.
Again the merchant says, “He that oppresses the poor to increase his riches, shall surely come to want.” And again more strongly: “Rob not the poor because he is poor; neither oppress the afflicted in the place of business. For, god shall spoil the soul of those that spoiled them.”
This ‘robbing the poor because he is poor,’ is especially the mercantile form of theft, consisting in taking advantage of a man’s necessities in order to obtain his labour or property at a reduced price. The ordinary highwayman’s opposite form of robbery—of the rich, because he is rich—does not appear to occur so often to the old merchant’s mind; probably because, being less profitable and more dangerous than the robbery of the poor, it is rarely practised by persons of discretion. (from Unto This Last)

What is the central idea of the passage?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

Some centuries before the Christian era, a Jew merchant, largely engaged in business on the Gold Coast, and reported to have made one of the largest fortunes of his time (held also in repute for much practical sagacity), left among his ledgers some general maxims concerning wealth, which have been preserved, strangely enough, even to our own days. They were held in considerable respect by the most active traders of the middle ages, especially by the Venetians, who even went so far in their admiration as to place a statue of the old Jew on the angle of one of their principle public buildings.
Of late years these writings have fallen into disrepute, being opposed in every particular to the spirit of modern commerce. Nevertheless we can reproduce a passage or two from them here, partly because they may interest the reader by their novelty; and chiefly because they will show him that it is possible for a very practical and acquisitive tradesman to hold, through a not unsuccessful career, that principle of distinction between well-gotten and ill-gotten wealth, which we must examine more completely in this.
He says, for instance, in one place: “the getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death:” adding in another, with the same meaning (he has a curious way of doubling his sayings): “treasures of wickedness profit nothing: but justice delivers from death.” Both these passages are notable for their assertion of death as the only real issue and sum of attainment by any unjust scheme of wealth. If we read, instead of ‘lying tongue’, ‘lying label, title, pretence, or advertisement,’ we shall more clearly perceive the bearing of the words on modern business.
The seeking of death is a grand expression of the true course of men’s toil in such business. We usually speak as if death pursued us, and we fled from him; but that is only so in rare instances. Ordinarily, he makes himself—makes himself beautiful—all-glorious; not like the King’s daughter, all-glorious within, but outwardly: his clothing of wrought gold. We pursue him frantically all our days, he flying or hiding from us. Our crowning success at three-score and ten is utterly and perfectly to seize, and hold him in his eternal integrity—robes, ashes, and sting.
Again the merchant says, “He that oppresses the poor to increase his riches, shall surely come to want.” And again more strongly: “Rob not the poor because he is poor; neither oppress the afflicted in the place of business. For, god shall spoil the soul of those that spoiled them.”
This ‘robbing the poor because he is poor,’ is especially the mercantile form of theft, consisting in taking advantage of a man’s necessities in order to obtain his labour or property at a reduced price. The ordinary highwayman’s opposite form of robbery—of the rich, because he is rich—does not appear to occur so often to the old merchant’s mind; probably because, being less profitable and more dangerous than the robbery of the poor, it is rarely practised by persons of discretion. (from Unto This Last)

The writer seems to suggest that what the Jew said ages ago is still relevant in as much as

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

Some centuries before the Christian era, a Jew merchant, largely engaged in business on the Gold Coast, and reported to have made one of the largest fortunes of his time (held also in repute for much practical sagacity), left among his ledgers some general maxims concerning wealth, which have been preserved, strangely enough, even to our own days. They were held in considerable respect by the most active traders of the middle ages, especially by the Venetians, who even went so far in their admiration as to place a statue of the old Jew on the angle of one of their principle public buildings.
Of late years these writings have fallen into disrepute, being opposed in every particular to the spirit of modern commerce. Nevertheless we can reproduce a passage or two from them here, partly because they may interest the reader by their novelty; and chiefly because they will show him that it is possible for a very practical and acquisitive tradesman to hold, through a not unsuccessful career, that principle of distinction between well-gotten and ill-gotten wealth, which we must examine more completely in this.
He says, for instance, in one place: “the getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death:” adding in another, with the same meaning (he has a curious way of doubling his sayings): “treasures of wickedness profit nothing: but justice delivers from death.” Both these passages are notable for their assertion of death as the only real issue and sum of attainment by any unjust scheme of wealth. If we read, instead of ‘lying tongue’, ‘lying label, title, pretence, or advertisement,’ we shall more clearly perceive the bearing of the words on modern business.
The seeking of death is a grand expression of the true course of men’s toil in such business. We usually speak as if death pursued us, and we fled from him; but that is only so in rare instances. Ordinarily, he makes himself—makes himself beautiful—all-glorious; not like the King’s daughter, all-glorious within, but outwardly: his clothing of wrought gold. We pursue him frantically all our days, he flying or hiding from us. Our crowning success at three-score and ten is utterly and perfectly to seize, and hold him in his eternal integrity—robes, ashes, and sting.
Again the merchant says, “He that oppresses the poor to increase his riches, shall surely come to want.” And again more strongly: “Rob not the poor because he is poor; neither oppress the afflicted in the place of business. For, god shall spoil the soul of those that spoiled them.”
This ‘robbing the poor because he is poor,’ is especially the mercantile form of theft, consisting in taking advantage of a man’s necessities in order to obtain his labour or property at a reduced price. The ordinary highwayman’s opposite form of robbery—of the rich, because he is rich—does not appear to occur so often to the old merchant’s mind; probably because, being less profitable and more dangerous than the robbery of the poor, it is rarely practised by persons of discretion. (from Unto This Last)

Which of the following can definitely not be inferred from the passage?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:

Some centuries before the Christian era, a Jew merchant, largely engaged in business on the Gold Coast, and reported to have made one of the largest fortunes of his time (held also in repute for much practical sagacity), left among his ledgers some general maxims concerning wealth, which have been preserved, strangely enough, even to our own days. They were held in considerable respect by the most active traders of the middle ages, especially by the Venetians, who even went so far in their admiration as to place a statue of the old Jew on the angle of one of their principle public buildings.
Of late years these writings have fallen into disrepute, being opposed in every particular to the spirit of modern commerce. Nevertheless we can reproduce a passage or two from them here, partly because they may interest the reader by their novelty; and chiefly because they will show him that it is possible for a very practical and acquisitive tradesman to hold, through a not unsuccessful career, that principle of distinction between well-gotten and ill-gotten wealth, which we must examine more completely in this.
He says, for instance, in one place: “the getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death:” adding in another, with the same meaning (he has a curious way of doubling his sayings): “treasures of wickedness profit nothing: but justice delivers from death.” Both these passages are notable for their assertion of death as the only real issue and sum of attainment by any unjust scheme of wealth. If we read, instead of ‘lying tongue’, ‘lying label, title, pretence, or advertisement,’ we shall more clearly perceive the bearing of the words on modern business.
The seeking of death is a grand expression of the true course of men’s toil in such business. We usually speak as if death pursued us, and we fled from him; but that is only so in rare instances. Ordinarily, he makes himself—makes himself beautiful—all-glorious; not like the King’s daughter, all-glorious within, but outwardly: his clothing of wrought gold. We pursue him frantically all our days, he flying or hiding from us. Our crowning success at three-score and ten is utterly and perfectly to seize, and hold him in his eternal integrity—robes, ashes, and sting.
Again the merchant says, “He that oppresses the poor to increase his riches, shall surely come to want.” And again more strongly: “Rob not the poor because he is poor; neither oppress the afflicted in the place of business. For, god shall spoil the soul of those that spoiled them.”
This ‘robbing the poor because he is poor,’ is especially the mercantile form of theft, consisting in taking advantage of a man’s necessities in order to obtain his labour or property at a reduced price. The ordinary highwayman’s opposite form of robbery—of the rich, because he is rich—does not appear to occur so often to the old merchant’s mind; probably because, being less profitable and more dangerous than the robbery of the poor, it is rarely practised by persons of discretion. (from Unto This Last)