When President Obama took the stage here Wednesday to address a community—and a nation—traumatized by Saturday’s shooting rampage in Tucson, Arizona, it invited comparisons to President George W. Bush’s speech to the nation after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and the memorial service President Bill Clinton led after the bombing of a federal office building killed 168 people in Oklahoma City in 1995. But Mr. Obama’s appearance presented a deeper challenge, reflecting the tenor of his times. Unlike those tragedies-which, at least initially, united a mournful country and quieted partisan divisions—this one has, in the days since the killings, had the opposite effect, inflaming the divide. It was a political reality Mr. Obama seemed to recognize the moment he took the stage. He directly confronted the political debate that erupted after the rampage, asking people of all beliefs not to use the tragedy to turn on one another. He called for an end to partisan recriminations, and for a unity that has seemed increasingly elusive as each day has brought more harsh condemnations from the left and the right. It was one of the more powerful addresses that Mr. Obama has delivered as president, harnessing the emotion generated by the shock and loss from Saturday’s shootings to urge Americans "to remind ourselves of all the ways that our hopes and dreams are bound together.\ It was one of the more powerful addresses that Mr. Obama has delivered as president, harnessing the emotion generated by the shock and loss from Saturday’s shootings to urge Americans "to remind ourselves of all the ways that our hopes and dreams are bound together".
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The percentage of people who send cards to themselves on February 14 is ______.
Questions 17 ~ 20 are based on the passage about the relationship between reading and dreams. You now have 20 seconds to read Questions 17 ~ 20. Who dreamed less and have fewer nightmares
A. Women.
B. Men.
C. The old.
D. Children.
Consider the following statements, made by the same man eight years apart. "Eventually, being ’poor’ won’t be as much a matter of living in a poor country as it will be a matter of having poor skills." That was Bill Gates talking in 1992. Way back then, the Microsoft chairman’s image was that of a rather harsh, libertarian-leaning fellow who proudly declared his products alone would "change the world." When asked what he would do with his billions, the boy wonder of Silicon Valley used to shrug off the question, saying his long workdays didn’t leave time for charity. But now listen to the same Gates-or perhaps not quite the same Gages-talking in the fall of 2000: Whenever the computer industry has a panel about the digital divide and I’m on the panel, I always think, "OK, you want to send computers to Africa, what about food and electricity-those computers aren’t going to be that valuable"... The mothers are going to walk right up to that computer and say: "My children are dying, what can you do" Yes, even Bill Gates, the iconic capitalist of our day, seems to have come around. The self-assured Gates of 1992 was obviously a man of his times, confident of his industry’s ability to change the world, certain that the power of markets and new technology, once unleashed, would address most of the world’s ills. But the more skeptical Gates of the new millennium is someone who evinces a passion for giving and government aid. He shares a growing realization, even in the multibillionaire set, that something is amiss with the ideology that has prevailed since the end of the cold war: global-capitalism-as-panacea. Consider the following statements, made by the same man eight years apart. "Eventually, being ’poor’ won’t be as much a matter of living in a poor country as it will be a matter of having poor skills." That was Bill Gates talking in 1992.