The SAT and the ACT may appear to be similar on the surface, but each test requires a different set of test taking strategies and techniques. To learn whether the SAT or the ACT caters to your strengths or to find out which test you would prefer, answer the following set of questions.
This passage is adapted from Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, originally published in 1911. Mattie Silver is Ethan’s household employee. |
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Mattie Silver had lived under Ethan’s roof for a year, and from | |
early morning till they met at supper he had frequent chances of | |
seeing her; but no moments in her company were comparable to | |
those when, her arm in his, and her light step flying to keep time | |
5 | with his long stride, they walked back through the night to the farm. |
He had taken to the girl from the first day, when he had driven over | |
to the Flats to meet her, and she had smiled and waved to him from | |
the train, crying out, “You must be Ethan!” as she jumped down with | |
her bundles, housework while he reflected, looking over her slight | |
10 | person: “She don’t look much on housework, but she ain’t a fretter, |
anyhow.” But it was not only that the coming to his house of a bit of | |
hopeful young life was like the lighting of a fire on a cold | |
hearth. The girl was more than the bright serviceable creature he | |
had thought her. She had an eye to see and an ear to hear: he | |
15 | could show her things and tell her things, and taste the bliss of |
feeling that all he imparted left long reverberations and echoes he | |
could wake at will. | |
It was during their night walks back to the farm that he felt most | |
intensely the sweetness of this communion. He had always been | |
20 | more sensitive than the people about him to the appeal of natural |
beauty. His unfinished studies had given form to this sensibility and | |
even in his unhappiest moments field and sky spoke to him with a | |
deep and powerful persuasion. But hitherto the emotion had | |
remained in him as a silent ache, veiling with sadness the beauty | |
25 | that evoked it. He did not even know whether any one else in the |
world felt as he did, or whether he was the sole victim of this | |
mournful privilege. Then he learned that one other spirit had | |
trembled with the same touch of wonder: that at his side, living | |
under his roof and eating his bread, was a creature to whom he | |
30 | could say: "That’s Orion down yonder; the big fellow to the |
right is Aldebaran, and the bunch of little ones—like bees | |
swarming—they’re the Pleiades..." or whom he could hold | |
entranced before a ledge of granite thrusting up through the fern | |
while he unrolled the huge panorama of the ice age, and the long | |
35 | dim stretches of succeeding time. The fact that admiration for his |
learning mingled with Mattie’s wonder at what he taught was not | |
the least part of his pleasure. And there were other sensations, less | |
definable but more exquisite, which drew them together with a | |
shock of silent joy: the cold red of sunset behind winter hills, the | |
40 | flight of cloud-flocks over slopes of golden stubble, or the intensely |
blue shadows of hemlocks on sunlit snow. When she said to him | |
once: “It looks just as if it was painted!” it seemed to Ethan that the | |
art of definition could go no farther, and that words had at last been | |
found to utter his secret soul.... | |
45 | As he stood in the darkness outside the church these memories |
came back with the poignancy of vanished things. Watching Mattie | |
whirl down the floor from hand to hand he wondered how he could | |
ever have thought that his dull talk interested her. To him, who was | |
never gay but in her presence, her gaiety seemed plain proof of | |
50 | indifference. The face she lifted to her dancers was the samewhich, |
when she saw him, always looked like a window that has | |
caught the sunset. He even noticed two or three gestures which, in | |
his fatuity, he had thought she kept for him: a way of throwing her | |
head back when she was amused, as if to taste her laugh before | |
55 | she let it out, and a trick of sinking her lids slowly when anything |
charmed or moved her. |
PROSE FICTION: This passage IS adapted from the short story "Tattoo" by Rai a Mai (©2006 by University of Hawai'i Press) |
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The first time I heard about tattoo, I was still a | |
little girl. My grandmother was telling me that the last | |
woman in Polynesia to have the face entirely tattooed | |
in those days was living in Hiva'Oa | |
5 | "She would often come down to the village by the |
shore. Maybe because she loved the-ocean ... Her | |
body, I could not tell because she was always wrapped | |
in tapa cloth. I used to play with the other village chil- | |
10 | dren at the shore. And she would come and just sit |
there, under the sun, for hours. She would stare silently | |
at the sea. Not moving. Not talking. Not smiling. Not | |
looking at anyone. Her eyes on the sea, as if captivated | |
by these ever-rolling waves. Her body leaning with | |
15 | intensity toward the ocean, as if her whole being was |
listening to something we could not hear. | |
"I like people who can sit under the sun without | |
moving and without talking, their eyes filled with | |
dreams from another world ... | |
20 | "I was probably about your age when my parents |
decided to migrate to the Marquesas Islands. You know, | |
child, the people over there have skin different from | |
ours. Mine is black. This is Pa'umotu skin! Yours is | |
white because you have in you the mixed blood of your | |
26 | ancestors. But theirs is a beautiful reddish color, like |
ahi mono'i, made from sandalwood and powder. The | |
way they speak is also different. When they speak, you | |
hear a song. They sound like the white birds that fly | |
over the cliffs along the shoreline just before·the rain. | |
30 | "Yes ... I do like people who can sit under the sun |
without moving and without talking, their eyes filled | |
with dreams from another world ... | |
"So when we played tiipa, I would hide behind a | |
rock not too far away from the tattoo lady and I would | |
35 | imitate her. I would sit against the rock and feel the |
pleasure of the sunrays trapped in the rock warming my | |
back. I: d close my eyes, breathe deeply, and feel the | |
sunrays on my eyelids. Then I would open my eyes | |
again and just stare at the sea ... I tried to hear what | |
45 | she was hearing ... |
"But you see, child, I didn't have any tattoo | |
around my eyes, and I couldn't see what she saw. I | |
didn't have any tattoo around my lips and on my chin, | |
45 | have any tattoo on my forehead, and I couldn't concen- |
trate on the ocean's language. | |
"Sometimes the tattoo lady would lift her hands up | |
toward the sky. And from her hands would dance a few | |
words among the clouds from Heaven. See, child, her | |
50 | hands were beautifully tattooed on the side of the palm |
and along the small fingers. At times, she would catch a | |
word and bring it back to her chest, as if to bury it in | |
her heart. | |
"I would see, then, tears run along the tattoo on | |
55 | her face ... |
"So I went to see my father and told him that I | |
wanted a tattoo somewhere on my body. I said that | |
I wanted to be able to hear what others couldn't hear. I | |
said that I wanted to catch the words from among the | |
60 | clouds from Heaven. |
"My father looked at me, opened his mouth. But | |
no word came out of it. Then he closed his mouth again | |
and just looked at me. He drew me against him and sat | |
me on his lap. With his arms wrapped around me, he | |
65 | chanted. He sang like the white birds that fly over the |
cliffs along the shoreline just before the rain. | |
"Then he said, 'We used to tell our story on our | |
body. And people and heavens would know who we | |
were. They would recognize us. But nowadays, stories | |
70 | and words are written in books. The words are caught |
directly from our memories and written with ink on | |
paper. You don't need to catch the words in the clouds | |
from Heaven any longer. They are here!' And he | |
pointed a finger to my forehead. | |
75 | "So you see, child," my grandmother went on, |
"today no one has Polynesian tattoo on their body any- | |
more. Well ... some men bring back tattoo from the | |
army. But theirs tell not of war; they speak of love and | |
broken hearts. They draw a heart pierced by an arrow | |
... They draw the name of a woman they fell in love | |
with ... They are unfinished designs. In fact, nobody | |
knows how to tattoo the way our ancestors did. They have | |
forgotten. | |
"Our word tatau has traveled all over the world | |
85 | and is known by all the nations. It has become such a |
part of everyone's language that people have forgotten | |
that originally this word was a Polynesian word: tatau! | |
Tatau has disappeared from our memories ... | |
"And you know what? I was never able to catch | |
90 | any words: neither in books nor from among the clouds |
from Heaven." | |
As I listened to my grandmother, I looked at her | |
naked black hands and I felt the desire for words to | |
grow inside me. |
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