My fiancé and I were excited about shopping for our first home. But our funds were1and none of the houses in our price range seemed satisfactory.

    One agent2a house in particular. Although her description sounded wonderful, the price was3our range, so we declined. But she kept urging us to have a look4.

    We finally did and it was5at first sight. It was Our Home, small and charming, overlooking a quiet lake. Walking through the rooms and talking with the owners, a nice elderly couple, we felt the warmth and6of the marriage within that home. As perfect as it was, the price remained too high for us. But every day, we would sit by the lake, looking at the house and dreaming of7it would be like to live there.

    Days later, we made a(n)8—far below the asking price. Surprisingly, they didn't9us. They renewed their offer10. It was also much more than we could afford, but far11than the original asking price.

    The next day, we got a12message that another buyer had offered a much higher price. Even so, we decided to talk with the13directly. We made our final offer, which14was thousands of dollars less than the other buyer's bid. We knew it,15we had to try.

     “Sold!” said the owner. Then he16: He'd seen us sitting by the lake all those times; he knew how much we loved the place and that we'd17the years of work they had put into their home; he realized he would take a18by selling it to us, but it was worthwhile; we were the people they wanted to live there. He told us to consider the19in the price “an early wedding present。“

    That's how we found our home and how I learned that when people are20they are not strangers, only friends we haven't yet met.

    I started serving the homeless when I was eight years old. I didn't know these people would make such a big difference in my 1.

    Twice a month I go to the church and help get things ready for 2. When the gate is opened, people come 3in to get drinks. They take their seats while breakfast is4, and then we begin to5. We each take two plates and carry them 6the line as the plates are 7. Each person receives kinds of foods. I walk to the tables and8the plates before them. After I've served them, I ask if they need9else and bring them whatever they ask for.

    When I first started serving, I was a little 10. At first I stayed close to my mom most of the time, but after I got to know these strangers, I11that they were friendly people. And the12of them was often nicer than the outside. I realized that there was no13 to the scared. After serving for a few months, I started to14seeing the same people each week.

    All of these people make my day much15. The past two years have made a big16in my life. I do this 17it is the right thing to do. When I serve people, I want them to know that someone 18them and that they matter. Serving makes me happy, but even more 19, it teaches me to love and 20others and helps make the world a better place.

Be a Traveler, not a Tourist

    Last summer, I had just enough money saved to buy a golden ticket—a 3-month train pass that would take me to the furthest reaches of Europe. Excited for my journey, I packed all the necessities —except the 1.

    While the convenience of the Internet was definitely a contributing factor to my 2 not to take with me the few expensive kilograms of out-of-date information, this was not the only reason why I decided to fly alone.

    To be honest, my main 3 with the guidebook is that I find it 4 the pleasure of a journey—like bossy aunt who is always telling you what to do, 5 she doesn't always know what is the best.

    Experience has taught me that there is an obvious 6 between a tourist and traveler.

    While waiting in a queue, I met a man who had a checklist. He showed me his list of “Top 20 Things To Do in Italy” and 7 off in a loud American accent that he'd seen everything Italy has to offer in just four days.

    The problem I had with this man's 8 to travelling was that he was too 9 information provided by his guidebook. He was lost in the 10 attractiveness of the “must-sees” and 11 to all the wonders and adventures that might happen during the 12 trip.

    So, 13 any guidebook, I traveled to Estonia, the tiny Baltic country bordering Russia. In the 14 of advance plans as guidebooks would suggest, I had no choice but to turn to some friendly faces for advice. I 15 myself first and then asked them what was happening around the town. When this 16 an invitation to a beautiful Estonian home by a river where I 17 a 110-degree wood-stove sauna, 18 picked forest-mushrooms and the good 19 of our five newfound Estonian friends, I was most glad that I had left my “bossy 20” at home.

    I always long for romantic moments, like a little girl longing for candies.However, my husband is my complete1His inability to bring romantic moments into our life has made me get tired of our2One day, I finally told him that I wanted a divorce.

    "Why?" he asked,3.

    "I am tired; there are no4for everything in the world!" I answered.

    He kept5, seeming to be in deep thought, with a lighted cigarette in his hands. Finally he asked," What can I do to change your6?"

    Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered," Let's say, I want a flower on a mountain cliff and picking the flower will cause your7Will you do it for me?"

    He answered," I will give you my answer tomorrow."

    I8the next morning, finding a piece of paper on the dining table, which read:" My dear, I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to9."

    My feeling of disappointment only10, but I continued reading:

    "You always leave the11keys behind, so I have to save my legs to12home to open the door for you. You always like to stay indoors and I13that you will feel too lonely, so I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories. You always stare14the computer and that will do nothing15for your eyes, so I have to save my eyes so that when we grow16, I can help to clip your nails. Thus, my dear,17I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do, I could not pick that flower yet, and die."

    My tears fell on the18and I continued reading:

    "Now that you have finished reading my answer, if you are19, please open the front door for I am standing outside20your favorite bread and fresh milk."

    Love, not words, wins arguments.

    A few weeks ago, my friend offered to sell some of our things for us. I thought it was a good opportunity to 1my 7-year-old son's room and 2some toys that were no longer suitable for him to play with. We 3 that all the money we got from selling the toys would be his money.

    The night before the 4 we loaded(装载)up the truck with toys and a little bike that was too 5for him. In the yard he   6 the bike for the last time and then happily put it onto the truck. This little bike had at least two previous (以前的) owners as far as we 7 .It was certainly not 8, but the tyres (轮胎)were 9 good.

    We put a price of $ 10 on it, but it didn't sell. So, after the sale was 10 , my friend put it on the sidewalk, with a sign that 11 "FREE BIKE". Within five minutes her doorbell rang. A little boy was 12 there. In poor English he asked whether the bike was 13 free. She said yes and that he could have it for 14He smiled, got on the bike and rode away.

    Later that evening when I told my son how much money he had made at the sale, he was very 15 , shouting happily. He asked about a few of his things, wondering 16they had been sold. When he asked about the bike, I told him about the little boy and that made him 17. He was much happier than when I told him how much he had 18 He was so happy to 19 that someone else would make good 20 of that little bike!