Questões de Vestibular CÁSPER LÍBERO 2010 para Vestibular
Foram encontradas 50 questões
O Instituto de Pesquisas Espaciais (INPE) realiza estudo sobre o desmatamento da floresta amazônica por meio de dois programas que analisam fotos de satélites: o Prodes e o Deter. Esses sistemas apresentam algumas limitações como o fato de imagens não serem captadas em dias nublados (dependendo da época do ano), ficando assim parte do território amazônico sem ser verificado. O gráfico acima mostra dados da área total de desmatamento por ano, baseado nas análises desses sistemas.
A partir do gráfico, podemos concluir que:
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
“Ficamos todos a ver o desfile e era um mês de março. O locutor deu alguma informação errada sobre o carnaval, e um dos primos disse que não era assim, que aquele era o Carnaval da Vitória porque a 27 de março se comemorava o dia em que as forças armadas tinham expulsado o último sul-africano de solo angolano”.
O trecho aborda a infância do personagem Ndalu, em Luanda, Angola, na década de 1980. No texto, o personagem principal lembra-se da festa que ganhou o nome de Carnaval da Vitória, após a independência do país, em 1975. Sobre a dominação portuguesa na África, é correto afirmar que:
“Chegou a nossa vez. Um camarada também aí num microfone tipo escondido aquecia a multidão: ‘Pioneiros de Agostinho Neto, na construção do socialismo...’ e nós gritávamos, suados, contentes, meio a rir meio a berrar: ‘Tudo pelo Povo!’”
O trecho acima narra a participação do personagem principal, Ndalu, em um desfile de Primeiro de Maio, em Luanda, na década de 1980, durante a vigência do regime socialista em Angola. Esse regime, implantado logo após a independência pelo Movimento Popular de Libertação de Angola (MPLA), com o apoio de Cuba e da antiga União Soviética, enfrentou uma guerra civil promovida por dois outros grupos armados: a União Nacional pela Libertação Total de Angola (UNITA) e a Frente Nacional de Libertação Angolana (FNLA). Os três grupos atuaram nas lutas pela independência do país, em 1975. Pode-se afirmar que um dos motivos da guerra civil em Angola foi:
A passagem acima foi extraída de Dois Irmãos, de Milton Hatoum, e descreve a demolição de um bairro portuário em Manaus, em 1967, por determinação do governo de Castelo Branco, para possibilitar a construção da Zona Franca de Manaus. Sobre esse projeto, é correto afirmar que:
(...) O sapo-tanoeiro, Parnasiano aguado, Diz: – “Meu cancioneiro É bem martelado.
Vede como primo Em comer os hiatos! Que arte! E nunca rimo Os termos cognatos.
O meu verso é bom Frumento sem joio. Faço rimas com Consoantes de apoio.
Vai por cinqüenta anos Que lhes dei a norma: Reduzi sem danos A fôrmas a forma.
Clame a saparia Em críticas céticas: Não há mais poesia, Mas há artes poéticas...” (...)
Se queres sentir a felicidade de amar, esquece a tua alma, A alma é que estraga o amor. Só em Deus ela pode encontrar satisfação, Não noutra alma. Só em Deus – ou fora do mundo. As almas são incomunicáveis. Deixa o teu corpo entender-se com outro corpo. Porque os corpos se entendem, mas as almas não.
“Baixos Rendimentos: há ainda cerca de um milhar de milhão de pessoas a viver no limiar da sobrevivência com menos de US$1 por dia, com 2,6 mil milhões – 40% da população mundial – a viver com menos de US$2 por dia. Fora da Ásia de Leste, a maioria das regiões em desenvolvimento estão a reduzir os índices de pobreza a um ritmo lento – demasiado lento para atingir os ODMs (Objectivos de Desenvolvimento do Milênio) de reduzir para metade a extrema pobreza em 2015. A não ser que se verifique uma aceleração na redução de pobreza a partir de 2008, o objectivo não deverá ser cumprido para cerca de 380 milhões de pessoas.”
Para atingir os ODMs, o número de pessoas, por ano, que deve sair da situação de extrema pobreza, vivendo com menos de US$2 por dia, deve aumentar, aproximadamente (considerando o período em questão de sete anos), de:
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