LSAT 48 – Section 3 – Passage 2 – Questions

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Question
QuickView
Type Tags Answer
Choices
Curve Question
Difficulty
Psg/Game/S
Difficulty
Explanation
PT48 S3 Q06
+RC
Art +Art
Main point +MP
A
9%
161
B
11%
160
C
13%
159
D
68%
165
E
0%
157
139
153
167
+Harder 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q07
+RC
Art +Art
Implied +Imp.
Other’s perspective +OP
A
0%
157
B
12%
158
C
1%
152
D
4%
157
E
84%
164
130
142
155
+Medium 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q08
+RC
Art +Art
Structure +Struc.
Meaning in context (of word, phrase, or idea) +MeanCtx
A
4%
158
B
9%
161
C
60%
165
D
1%
157
E
27%
161
141
157
173
+Harder 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q09
+RC
Art +Art
RC Analogy +An.
A
77%
165
B
4%
159
C
9%
158
D
7%
160
E
4%
156
142
151
161
+Medium 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q10
+RC
Art +Art
Stated +St.
A
2%
155
B
2%
154
C
93%
164
D
1%
154
E
2%
155
135
142
150
+Medium 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q11
+RC
Art +Art
Stated +St.
A
1%
153
B
1%
158
C
1%
152
D
6%
156
E
91%
164
129
139
149
+Easier 148.368 +SubsectionMedium
PT48 S3 Q12
+RC
Art +Art
Implied +Imp.
Author’s attitude +AA
A
1%
152
B
2%
156
C
24%
161
D
66%
165
E
7%
159
137
153
170
+Harder 148.368 +SubsectionMedium

Louise Glück awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature (2020)

The Past
Louise Glück, 1943

Small light in the sky appearing
suddenly between
two pine boughs, their fine needles

now etched onto the radiant surface
and above this
high, feathery heaven—

Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine,
most intense when the wind blows through it
and the sound it makes equally strange,
like the sound of the wind in a movie—

Shadows moving. The ropes
making the sound they make. What you hear now
will be the sound of the nightingale, Chordata,
the male bird courting the female—

The ropes shift. The hammock
sways in the wind, tied
firmly between two pine trees.

Smell the air. That is the smell of the white pine.

It is my mother’s voice you hear
or is it only the sound the trees make
when the air passes through them

because what sound would it make,
passing through nothing?

The Night Migrations
Louise Glück, 1943

This is the moment when you see again
the red berries of the mountain ash
and in the dark sky
the birds’ night migrations.

It grieves me to think
the dead won’t see them—
these things we depend on,
they disappear.

What will the soul do for solace then?
I tell myself maybe it won’t need
these pleasures anymore;
maybe just not being is simply enough,
hard as that is to imagine.

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