I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I thought that the act of writing is the coolest thing in the world.

    Years later, during her final illness, my mother kept different things for my sister and my brother.“ But the desk，” She said, “it's for Helen.”

    Although I knew she loved me and she only showed it in action, I wanted heart­to­heart talks between mother and daughter. But they never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional (易动感情的)”，but she lived “on the surface”．

    I had my own family later. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she forgave me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. It didn't come.

    My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and finally, peace—it seemed that nothing happened. I wasn't even sure if the letter had got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I never heard from her!

    Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside—a photo of my father and a one­page letter, folded and refolded many times.

    Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.

    A lot of teenagers are good at art at school, but how would you feel if people called you “the new Picasso(毕加索)” or if presidents and other famous people collected your paintings?

    Alexandra Nechita was ten when her paintings became famous all over the world. She visited Britain, France, Italy, Japan, Australia, New Zealand and her family's native place (祖籍) Romania where 5,000 fans came to see her at the airport. Alexandra said, “When it all started, I was moved. It was very exciting and I loved the traveling, but I got very tired. And I missed home.”

    Alexandra is a good student. Her studies always come first. She only starts painting after she's done her homework. She works on two or three paintings at a time. The paintings sell for thousands and Alexandra's parents have given up their jobs to work for their daughter. Life for the Nechita family is very different from what it was like a few years ago. Alexandra's father Nike left Romania for political (政治的)reasons in 1985. At first he tried his best to learn English and had different kinds of low-paid jobs. In 1987, he brought his wife and Alexandra, who was then 18 months old, to America. The family was very poor. Alexandra began to draw at the age of three.

    She was drawing for four or five hours a day. Soon people offered(提出) to buy her paintings and she had her first art show at the age of eight. Stories about this child appeared(出现) in the newspapers and television. They now live in a large house with a swimming pool. Her mother said, “We started without anything, but thanks to Alexandra, we have everything we ever dreamed of.”

    My mother is a teacher. On weekdays, she gives lessons at school and on Saturdays she works in clubs. On Sundays, she is still busy.

On Sunday morning, mum gets up at six. She cooks breakfast for us first. And then it's time for cleaning. After that, she has breakfast with father and me. At 9, she goes to buy food for lunch in the supermarket. She can have a short rest after lunch. In the afternoon, mum doesn't go out. She helps me with my lessons. She does some reading, too.

    Mother watches TV at about 7 when she finishes (完成) the housework. But at that time she is always tired and falls asleep (睡着) in the sofa sometimes.

    Jim went to school to study history, but when he finished his first year, he didn't pass the exam and the teacher said to him, “You have to leave school.”

    When the boy's father heard this news, he was much worried. He came to the school to see the teacher. He found the teacher in the office and asked the teacher to let Jim go on with his studies the next year.

    “He is a good boy. He always does well in history,” said Jim's father, “and if you let him pass the exam this time, he will do better next year and pass the exam.”

    “No, no, that's impossible!”answered the teacher, “Last month I asked him when Napoleon（拿破仑）died and he didn't know.”

    “Please sir, give him another chance.”said Jim's father,“You know we don't have any newspapers in our house, so nobody in our family knew that Mr. Napoleon was ill.”

    In our daily life, we always come to the question “What is the real beauty?” . Different people have different ideas. Last night, I read a true story from the newspaper. It's about a poor, ordinary looking old woman. She lived alone, making a living by picking things from rubbish heaps (垃圾堆). However, she took in more than ten homeless children and tried to bring them up .Every day she worked from 6:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. In order to earn as much money as possible to raise the children and to keep them in school, she even went to a local hospital to sell her blood(血) once a month. She got so weak because of the loss of blood that she sometimes felt sick on her way home. When asked why she chose to take care of so many children, she smiled and answered,“Oh, I love children and I like to live together with them because they always bring me great happiness.” Though the old woman was poor, she was full of love and rich in spirit.So the local government and people in her city truly respected her. Maybe you can't help thinking,“What makes that poor woman so different?” It is nothing else but her inner (内部的) beauty, her true devotion of love without any thought of money. So the real beauty is the beauty in one's heart, that is, the inner beauty!

    She used to sleep on the sidewalk of the Fifth Street Post Office. I could smell her before I came close. She wore dirty clothes and her mouth was nearly toothless. I hardly saw her talk with others. If she was not asleep, she talked to herself. I always had sympathy for her. What a poor old lady! She must be desperate (感到绝望的)and hungry.

    One Thanksgiving, we had lots of food left over. I thought about the old lady. She might be still hungry. So I packed the food up and drove over to the Fifth Street.

    It was a cold night. There was hardly anyone out. But I knew she would stay at the same place and I would find her easily.

    There she was, squatted against a fence near the post office. She was dressed as she always was.

    I drove my car over to her, rolled down the window and said, "I've brought you some food. Would you like some turkey and apple pie？"

    However, the old woman didn't seem to be very excited about this. She looked at me and said quite clearly, "Oh, thank you very much, but someone has given me food earlier and I'm quite full now. Why don't you take it to someone else who needs it？"

    Her words were clear and her manners were gracious. Soon her head sank into her arms again. I was the only person who didn't know what to say. An old lady who was clearly down on her luck still thought about others. Why don't more of us do that？