Questões de Inglês

Out of Shape at 18, at Risk for Future Diabetes

Nicholas Bakalar 

March 9, 2016 

 

  Being out of shape at age 18 may increase your risk for eventually developing Type 2 diabetes, regardless of your weight and family history, a new study says. The study looked at data from more than 1.5 million Swedish men, using tests of muscle strength and aerobic capacity when they were conscripted for military service at age 18, between 1969 and 1997. Their muscle strength had been measured with handgrip and other tests, and their aerobic capacity calculated as they exercised on a stationary bicycle.

  With this data in hand, researchers checked the men’s medical records from 1987 to 2012. They found 34,008 cases of Type 2 diabetes over an average 26 years of follow-up. The study is in the Annals of Internal Medicine. Both low aerobic capacity and low muscle strength at 18 were associated with a higher risk for Type 2 diabetes; poor aerobic capacity was a slightly stronger risk factor. Having both weak muscles and low aerobic capacity more than tripled the risk for future diabetes. The effect was independent of other risk factors — body mass index, family history of diabetes, education and socioeconomic status.

  “Early life interventions are really important,” said the lead author, Dr. Casey Crump, a professor of family medicine at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York. “Prevention of Type 2 diabetes should begin early in life, and should include both aerobic fitness and muscular strength. This is important regardless of people’s weight.” 

(http://well.blogs.nytimes.com)

O acompanhamento dos dados iniciais do estudo

Out of Shape at 18, at Risk for Future Diabetes

Nicholas Bakalar 

March 9, 2016 

 

  Being out of shape at age 18 may increase your risk for eventually developing Type 2 diabetes, regardless of your weight and family history, a new study says. The study looked at data from more than 1.5 million Swedish men, using tests of muscle strength and aerobic capacity when they were conscripted for military service at age 18, between 1969 and 1997. Their muscle strength had been measured with handgrip and other tests, and their aerobic capacity calculated as they exercised on a stationary bicycle.

  With this data in hand, researchers checked the men’s medical records from 1987 to 2012. They found 34,008 cases of Type 2 diabetes over an average 26 years of follow-up. The study is in the Annals of Internal Medicine. Both low aerobic capacity and low muscle strength at 18 were associated with a higher risk for Type 2 diabetes; poor aerobic capacity was a slightly stronger risk factor. Having both weak muscles and low aerobic capacity more than tripled the risk for future diabetes. The effect was independent of other risk factors — body mass index, family history of diabetes, education and socioeconomic status.

  “Early life interventions are really important,” said the lead author, Dr. Casey Crump, a professor of family medicine at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York. “Prevention of Type 2 diabetes should begin early in life, and should include both aerobic fitness and muscular strength. This is important regardless of people’s weight.” 

(http://well.blogs.nytimes.com)

Segundo o texto, o estudo constatou que:

Text

 

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

 

[1]   Seventy-one years ago, on a bright  

cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and  

the world was changed. A flash of light and a  

wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated  

[5] that mankind possessed the means to destroy  

itself. 

  It is not the fact of war that sets  

Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent  

conflict appeared with the very first man. Our  

[10] early ancestors having learned to make blades  

from flint and spears from wood used these  

tools not just for hunting but against their  

own kind. On every continent, the history of  

civilization is filled with war, whether driven  

[15] by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, comp

elled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. 

Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have  

been subjugated and liberated. And at each  

juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless  

[20] toll, their names forgotten by time. 

  The world war that reached its brutal  

end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought  

among the wealthiest and most powerful of  

nations. Their civilizations had given the world  

[25] great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers  

had advanced ideas of justice and harmony  

and truth. And yet the war grew out of the  

same base instinct for domination or conquest  

that had caused conflicts among the simplest  

[30] tribes, an old pattern amplified by new  

capabilities and without new constraints. 

  In the image of a mushroom cloud that  

rose into these skies, we are most starkly 

reminded of humanity’s core contradiction.  

[35] How the very spark that marks us as a  

species, our thoughts, our imagination, our  

language, our toolmaking, our ability to set  

ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our  

will — those very things also give us the  

[40] capacity for unmatched destruction. 

  How often does material advancement  

or social innovation blind us to this truth? How  

easily we learn to justify violence in the name  

of some higher cause. 

[45]   Every great religion promises a pathway  

to love and peace and righteousness, and yet  

no religion has been spared from believers  

who have claimed their faith as a license to  

kill. 

[50]   Nations arise telling a story that binds  

people together in sacrifice and cooperation,  

allowing for remarkable feats. But those same  

stories have so often been used to oppress  

and dehumanize those who are different. 

[55]   Science allows us to communicate  

across the seas and fly above the clouds, to  

cure disease and understand the cosmos, but  

those same discoveries can be turned into  

ever more efficient killing machines. 

[60]   The wars of the modern age teach us  

this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth.  

Technological progress without an equivalent  

progress in human institutions can doom us.  

The scientific revolution that led to the  

[65] splitting of an atom requires a moral  

revolution as well. 

  Mere words cannot give voice to such  

suffering. But we have a shared responsibility  

to look directly into the eye of history and ask  

[70] what we must do differently to curb such  

suffering again. 

  Since that fateful day, we have made  

choices that give us hope. The United States  

and Japan have forged not only an alliance but  

[75] a friendship that has won far more for our  

people than we could ever claim through war.  

The nations of Europe built a union that  

replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce  

and democracy. Oppressed people and nations  

[80] won liberation. An international community  

established institutions and treaties that work  

to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll  

back and ultimately eliminate the existence of  

nuclear weapons. 

[85]   Still, every act of aggression between  

nations, every act of terror and corruption and  

cruelty and oppression that we see around the  

world shows our work is never done. We may  

not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do  

[90] evil, so nations and the alliances that we form

must possess the means to defend ourselves.

But among those nations like my own that

hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the

courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue

[95] a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my

lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the

possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a

course that leads to the destruction of these

[100] stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new

nations and secure deadly materials from

fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see

around the world today how even the crudest

[105] rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence

on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset

about war itself. To prevent conflict

through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts

after they’ve begun. To see our growing

[110] interdependence as a cause for peaceful

cooperation and not violent competition. To

define our nations not by our capacity to

destroy but by what we build. And perhaps,

above all, we must reimagine our connection

[115] to one another as members of one human

race.

For this, too, is what makes our species

unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to

repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn.

[120] We can choose. We can tell our children a

different story, one that describes a common

humanity, one that makes war less likely and

cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with

[125] simple words: All men are created equal and

endowed by our creator with certain

unalienable rights including life, liberty and

the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal

has never been easy, even within our own

[130] borders, even among our own citizens. But

staying true to that story is worth the effort. It

is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that

extends across continents and across oceans.

The irreducible worth of every person, the

[135] insistence that every life is precious, the

radical and necessary notion that we are part

of a single human family — that is the story

that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I

[140] think. They do not want more war. They

would rather that the wonders of science be

focused on improving life and not eliminating

it. When the choices made by nations, when

the choices made by leaders, reflect this

[145] simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima

is done.

The world was forever changed here,

but today the children of this city will go

through their day in peace. What a precious

[150] thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then

extending to every child. That is a future we

can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and

Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of

atomic warfare but as the start of our own

[155] moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com 

 

The sentences “Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man” (lines 8-9) and “A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself” (lines 03-06) respectively contain a/an

Text

 

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

 

[1]   Seventy-one years ago, on a bright  

cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and  

the world was changed. A flash of light and a  

wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated  

[5] that mankind possessed the means to destroy  

itself. 

  It is not the fact of war that sets  

Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent  

conflict appeared with the very first man. Our  

[10] early ancestors having learned to make blades  

from flint and spears from wood used these  

tools not just for hunting but against their  

own kind. On every continent, the history of  

civilization is filled with war, whether driven  

[15] by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, comp

elled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. 

Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have  

been subjugated and liberated. And at each  

juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless  

[20] toll, their names forgotten by time. 

  The world war that reached its brutal  

end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought  

among the wealthiest and most powerful of  

nations. Their civilizations had given the world  

[25] great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers  

had advanced ideas of justice and harmony  

and truth. And yet the war grew out of the  

same base instinct for domination or conquest  

that had caused conflicts among the simplest  

[30] tribes, an old pattern amplified by new  

capabilities and without new constraints. 

  In the image of a mushroom cloud that  

rose into these skies, we are most starkly 

reminded of humanity’s core contradiction.  

[35] How the very spark that marks us as a  

species, our thoughts, our imagination, our  

language, our toolmaking, our ability to set  

ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our  

will — those very things also give us the  

[40] capacity for unmatched destruction. 

  How often does material advancement  

or social innovation blind us to this truth? How  

easily we learn to justify violence in the name  

of some higher cause. 

[45]   Every great religion promises a pathway  

to love and peace and righteousness, and yet  

no religion has been spared from believers  

who have claimed their faith as a license to  

kill. 

[50]   Nations arise telling a story that binds  

people together in sacrifice and cooperation,  

allowing for remarkable feats. But those same  

stories have so often been used to oppress  

and dehumanize those who are different. 

[55]   Science allows us to communicate  

across the seas and fly above the clouds, to  

cure disease and understand the cosmos, but  

those same discoveries can be turned into  

ever more efficient killing machines. 

[60]   The wars of the modern age teach us  

this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth.  

Technological progress without an equivalent  

progress in human institutions can doom us.  

The scientific revolution that led to the  

[65] splitting of an atom requires a moral  

revolution as well. 

  Mere words cannot give voice to such  

suffering. But we have a shared responsibility  

to look directly into the eye of history and ask  

[70] what we must do differently to curb such  

suffering again. 

  Since that fateful day, we have made  

choices that give us hope. The United States  

and Japan have forged not only an alliance but  

[75] a friendship that has won far more for our  

people than we could ever claim through war.  

The nations of Europe built a union that  

replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce  

and democracy. Oppressed people and nations  

[80] won liberation. An international community  

established institutions and treaties that work  

to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll  

back and ultimately eliminate the existence of  

nuclear weapons. 

[85]   Still, every act of aggression between  

nations, every act of terror and corruption and  

cruelty and oppression that we see around the  

world shows our work is never done. We may  

not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do  

[90] evil, so nations and the alliances that we form

must possess the means to defend ourselves.

But among those nations like my own that

hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the

courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue

[95] a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my

lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the

possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a

course that leads to the destruction of these

[100] stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new

nations and secure deadly materials from

fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see

around the world today how even the crudest

[105] rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence

on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset

about war itself. To prevent conflict

through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts

after they’ve begun. To see our growing

[110] interdependence as a cause for peaceful

cooperation and not violent competition. To

define our nations not by our capacity to

destroy but by what we build. And perhaps,

above all, we must reimagine our connection

[115] to one another as members of one human

race.

For this, too, is what makes our species

unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to

repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn.

[120] We can choose. We can tell our children a

different story, one that describes a common

humanity, one that makes war less likely and

cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with

[125] simple words: All men are created equal and

endowed by our creator with certain

unalienable rights including life, liberty and

the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal

has never been easy, even within our own

[130] borders, even among our own citizens. But

staying true to that story is worth the effort. It

is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that

extends across continents and across oceans.

The irreducible worth of every person, the

[135] insistence that every life is precious, the

radical and necessary notion that we are part

of a single human family — that is the story

that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I

[140] think. They do not want more war. They

would rather that the wonders of science be

focused on improving life and not eliminating

it. When the choices made by nations, when

the choices made by leaders, reflect this

[145] simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima

is done.

The world was forever changed here,

but today the children of this city will go

through their day in peace. What a precious

[150] thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then

extending to every child. That is a future we

can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and

Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of

atomic warfare but as the start of our own

[155] moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com 

 

The sentences “And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes” (lines 27-30) and “The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well” (lines 64-66) contain relative clauses respectively classified as

Text

 

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

 

[1]   Seventy-one years ago, on a bright  

cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and  

the world was changed. A flash of light and a  

wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated  

[5] that mankind possessed the means to destroy  

itself. 

  It is not the fact of war that sets  

Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent  

conflict appeared with the very first man. Our  

[10] early ancestors having learned to make blades  

from flint and spears from wood used these  

tools not just for hunting but against their  

own kind. On every continent, the history of  

civilization is filled with war, whether driven  

[15] by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, comp

elled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. 

Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have  

been subjugated and liberated. And at each  

juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless  

[20] toll, their names forgotten by time. 

  The world war that reached its brutal  

end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought  

among the wealthiest and most powerful of  

nations. Their civilizations had given the world  

[25] great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers  

had advanced ideas of justice and harmony  

and truth. And yet the war grew out of the  

same base instinct for domination or conquest  

that had caused conflicts among the simplest  

[30] tribes, an old pattern amplified by new  

capabilities and without new constraints. 

  In the image of a mushroom cloud that  

rose into these skies, we are most starkly 

reminded of humanity’s core contradiction.  

[35] How the very spark that marks us as a  

species, our thoughts, our imagination, our  

language, our toolmaking, our ability to set  

ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our  

will — those very things also give us the  

[40] capacity for unmatched destruction. 

  How often does material advancement  

or social innovation blind us to this truth? How  

easily we learn to justify violence in the name  

of some higher cause. 

[45]   Every great religion promises a pathway  

to love and peace and righteousness, and yet  

no religion has been spared from believers  

who have claimed their faith as a license to  

kill. 

[50]   Nations arise telling a story that binds  

people together in sacrifice and cooperation,  

allowing for remarkable feats. But those same  

stories have so often been used to oppress  

and dehumanize those who are different. 

[55]   Science allows us to communicate  

across the seas and fly above the clouds, to  

cure disease and understand the cosmos, but  

those same discoveries can be turned into  

ever more efficient killing machines. 

[60]   The wars of the modern age teach us  

this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth.  

Technological progress without an equivalent  

progress in human institutions can doom us.  

The scientific revolution that led to the  

[65] splitting of an atom requires a moral  

revolution as well. 

  Mere words cannot give voice to such  

suffering. But we have a shared responsibility  

to look directly into the eye of history and ask  

[70] what we must do differently to curb such  

suffering again. 

  Since that fateful day, we have made  

choices that give us hope. The United States  

and Japan have forged not only an alliance but  

[75] a friendship that has won far more for our  

people than we could ever claim through war.  

The nations of Europe built a union that  

replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce  

and democracy. Oppressed people and nations  

[80] won liberation. An international community  

established institutions and treaties that work  

to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll  

back and ultimately eliminate the existence of  

nuclear weapons. 

[85]   Still, every act of aggression between  

nations, every act of terror and corruption and  

cruelty and oppression that we see around the  

world shows our work is never done. We may  

not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do  

[90] evil, so nations and the alliances that we form

must possess the means to defend ourselves.

But among those nations like my own that

hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the

courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue

[95] a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my

lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the

possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a

course that leads to the destruction of these

[100] stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new

nations and secure deadly materials from

fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see

around the world today how even the crudest

[105] rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence

on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset

about war itself. To prevent conflict

through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts

after they’ve begun. To see our growing

[110] interdependence as a cause for peaceful

cooperation and not violent competition. To

define our nations not by our capacity to

destroy but by what we build. And perhaps,

above all, we must reimagine our connection

[115] to one another as members of one human

race.

For this, too, is what makes our species

unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to

repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn.

[120] We can choose. We can tell our children a

different story, one that describes a common

humanity, one that makes war less likely and

cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with

[125] simple words: All men are created equal and

endowed by our creator with certain

unalienable rights including life, liberty and

the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal

has never been easy, even within our own

[130] borders, even among our own citizens. But

staying true to that story is worth the effort. It

is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that

extends across continents and across oceans.

The irreducible worth of every person, the

[135] insistence that every life is precious, the

radical and necessary notion that we are part

of a single human family — that is the story

that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I

[140] think. They do not want more war. They

would rather that the wonders of science be

focused on improving life and not eliminating

it. When the choices made by nations, when

the choices made by leaders, reflect this

[145] simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima

is done.

The world was forever changed here,

but today the children of this city will go

through their day in peace. What a precious

[150] thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then

extending to every child. That is a future we

can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and

Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of

atomic warfare but as the start of our own

[155] moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com 

 

The -ING words in “efficient killing machines” (line 59) and “voice to such suffering” (lines 67-68) respectively function as

Text

 

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

 

[1]   Seventy-one years ago, on a bright  

cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and  

the world was changed. A flash of light and a  

wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated  

[5] that mankind possessed the means to destroy  

itself. 

  It is not the fact of war that sets  

Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent  

conflict appeared with the very first man. Our  

[10] early ancestors having learned to make blades  

from flint and spears from wood used these  

tools not just for hunting but against their  

own kind. On every continent, the history of  

civilization is filled with war, whether driven  

[15] by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, comp

elled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. 

Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have  

been subjugated and liberated. And at each  

juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless  

[20] toll, their names forgotten by time. 

  The world war that reached its brutal  

end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought  

among the wealthiest and most powerful of  

nations. Their civilizations had given the world  

[25] great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers  

had advanced ideas of justice and harmony  

and truth. And yet the war grew out of the  

same base instinct for domination or conquest  

that had caused conflicts among the simplest  

[30] tribes, an old pattern amplified by new  

capabilities and without new constraints. 

  In the image of a mushroom cloud that  

rose into these skies, we are most starkly 

reminded of humanity’s core contradiction.  

[35] How the very spark that marks us as a  

species, our thoughts, our imagination, our  

language, our toolmaking, our ability to set  

ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our  

will — those very things also give us the  

[40] capacity for unmatched destruction. 

  How often does material advancement  

or social innovation blind us to this truth? How  

easily we learn to justify violence in the name  

of some higher cause. 

[45]   Every great religion promises a pathway  

to love and peace and righteousness, and yet  

no religion has been spared from believers  

who have claimed their faith as a license to  

kill. 

[50]   Nations arise telling a story that binds  

people together in sacrifice and cooperation,  

allowing for remarkable feats. But those same  

stories have so often been used to oppress  

and dehumanize those who are different. 

[55]   Science allows us to communicate  

across the seas and fly above the clouds, to  

cure disease and understand the cosmos, but  

those same discoveries can be turned into  

ever more efficient killing machines. 

[60]   The wars of the modern age teach us  

this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth.  

Technological progress without an equivalent  

progress in human institutions can doom us.  

The scientific revolution that led to the  

[65] splitting of an atom requires a moral  

revolution as well. 

  Mere words cannot give voice to such  

suffering. But we have a shared responsibility  

to look directly into the eye of history and ask  

[70] what we must do differently to curb such  

suffering again. 

  Since that fateful day, we have made  

choices that give us hope. The United States  

and Japan have forged not only an alliance but  

[75] a friendship that has won far more for our  

people than we could ever claim through war.  

The nations of Europe built a union that  

replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce  

and democracy. Oppressed people and nations  

[80] won liberation. An international community  

established institutions and treaties that work  

to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll  

back and ultimately eliminate the existence of  

nuclear weapons. 

[85]   Still, every act of aggression between  

nations, every act of terror and corruption and  

cruelty and oppression that we see around the  

world shows our work is never done. We may  

not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do  

[90] evil, so nations and the alliances that we form

must possess the means to defend ourselves.

But among those nations like my own that

hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the

courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue

[95] a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my

lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the

possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a

course that leads to the destruction of these

[100] stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new

nations and secure deadly materials from

fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see

around the world today how even the crudest

[105] rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence

on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset

about war itself. To prevent conflict

through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts

after they’ve begun. To see our growing

[110] interdependence as a cause for peaceful

cooperation and not violent competition. To

define our nations not by our capacity to

destroy but by what we build. And perhaps,

above all, we must reimagine our connection

[115] to one another as members of one human

race.

For this, too, is what makes our species

unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to

repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn.

[120] We can choose. We can tell our children a

different story, one that describes a common

humanity, one that makes war less likely and

cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with

[125] simple words: All men are created equal and

endowed by our creator with certain

unalienable rights including life, liberty and

the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal

has never been easy, even within our own

[130] borders, even among our own citizens. But

staying true to that story is worth the effort. It

is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that

extends across continents and across oceans.

The irreducible worth of every person, the

[135] insistence that every life is precious, the

radical and necessary notion that we are part

of a single human family — that is the story

that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I

[140] think. They do not want more war. They

would rather that the wonders of science be

focused on improving life and not eliminating

it. When the choices made by nations, when

the choices made by leaders, reflect this

[145] simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima

is done.

The world was forever changed here,

but today the children of this city will go

through their day in peace. What a precious

[150] thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then

extending to every child. That is a future we

can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and

Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of

atomic warfare but as the start of our own

[155] moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com 

 

“Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us” (lines 62-63) is an example of