One afternoon，my son Adam asked me，“Are all people the same even if they are different in color？”

    I thought for a minute，and then I said，“I'll explain，1you can just wait until we make a quick 2 at the grocery store. I have something3 to show you.”

    At the grocery store， we 4 some apples—red，green and yellow ones. Back home. I told Adam，“It's time to 5 your question.” I put one apple of each 6on the table. Then I looked at Adam， who had a7 look on his face.

    “People are like apples. They come in all8colors，shapes and sizes. On the 9 ， some of the apples may not 10 look as delicious as the others.” As I was talking，Adam was 11 each one carefully.

    Then， I took each of the apples and peeled(削皮)them，12them back on the table，but13 a different place.

    “Okay， Adam， tell me which is which.”

    He said， “I 14 tell. They all look the same now.” “Take a bite of 15. See if that helps you 16which one is which.”

    He took17 ， and then a huge smile came across his face. “People are 18 like apples！ They are all different， but once you19 the outside， they're pretty much the same on the inside.”

    He totally 20it. I didn't need to say or do anything else.

    Armed with a bachelor's degree in medicine, I left Jammu, my hometown, for Delhi hoping to find a good job. Those were testing time — I was 1 my resume at every hospital and clinic in the capital, and facing upsetting 2responses. These big-city folks seemed too busy to care about a 23-year-old, jobless girl. Then a friend told me about the “Technical Recruitment Cell”,3 near the Income Tax Office (ITO), where I could 4 for a government job.

    The next day I reached the ITO area and 5 in the sun for an hour asking everybody for the Technical Recruitment Cell, but no one had any idea 6 it was.

    It was 7 and the heat unbearable. I then reached a big book shop, full of books on law and finance. Maybe I'll 8 inside, I thought as I walked in and found a man aged about 40 busy at his PC.9him, I asked if he knew the address. Seeing me drenched in sweat (大汗淋淳)，he asked me to take a 10 and offered me a glass of water. He then googled “Technical Recruitment Cell”, but without 11. I must have looked frustrated.

    “Don't get 12.” he said, as he continued his search. “We'll find it.” He'd spent several minutes searching when an older man who also 13 in the shop, came by and asked us what we were looking for.

    “Beta, it might be the Delhi Subordinate Board,” he suggested. “They 14 people for government posts.” We searched for that and found it 15 — actually the Delhi Subordinate Services Selection Board. They then gave me a printout of the 16

    “What do I 17you for the Internet time and the printout?” I asked the first gentleman.

    “Oh, nothing. Good luck!”

    “Thank you,” I said to the pair. The older man then told me the 18 of the bus that would get me there, the fare, even the best 19 to take, finally saying “God bless you!” as I walked out.

    I was happy in the discovery that not all city folks are too 20to help other.

    My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. He could not1 music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. I loved to sing, but I never learned how to 2 the mandolin. This is something I 3 to this day.

    Dad loved to play the mandolin for his 4 as he knew we enjoyed singing, and hearing him play. He was always there,5his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their life. I had to mature into a man and have children of my own 6 I realized how much he had sacrificed.7played the mandolin like my father. He could8your soul with the tones. He seemed to shine when he was playing. You could see his9 in his ability to play so well for his family.

    One day, he was involved in an 10.On this particular day, Dad got the first finger of his left hand 11 by the machine. The doctor who operated on the finger could not 12 it, which did affect his 13 to play the mandolin.

    After the accident, Dad felt that he could not play 14.When I came home and asked him to play, he would make15 for why he couldn't play.

In August of 1993 my father was diagnosed with16lung cancer. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for us. He said17.He knew it would probably be the last time he could play for us. When I looked around, there was not a18eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet man with an inner19 Dad was always doing something he had done all his life20.

I could have easily gone through life without getting to know one of the most romantic feelings—love for a dog.

    For at least ten years my 1had been suggesting that we get a dog. There were several reasons why the idea 2. We had noticed that, on our block, couples with no children as a rule3one large or two small dogs. So we got one puppy4we too had no children.

    He flew into the house with the 5 of a Formula 1 (一级方程式赛车). In several minutes he ran over all the house, 6from my shoulder onto the bed, and ended up in the 7 , where my wife washed him with motherly 8. From that day on, the invisible（看不见的） 9for the love of the new member of our household began at my home.

He seemed to 10 that at once. Most of the meals that my wife had 11 for him with greater care than those for me—he didn't 12 look at.

    Every evening I went out walking with him. I could not know who was walking whom 13 one evening, when, tired from work, I 14 the walk. The dog was very angry and dragged me out.

    Last night our dog pulled me by the ear with his teeth, 15 me up in my dream, and dragged me into the kitchen to make me turn off the 16which had disturbed（干扰） his sleep. I meekly（乖乖地）17 that I had forgotten to switch off the light, but that was not 18 . He looked at me like a teacher at a pupil who repeatedly makes 19.

    Now we finally know who's the 20 at home, and for twenty years we had seriously argued whether it was my wife or I.

    Lori was suspended (暂停)from school for having cigarettes in her locker. She told her dad, "I don't know how they got there! I was just putting them in my pocket to take them to the principal when a teacher 1 and sent me to the office." Dad had a hard time 2 that Lori didn't know how the cigarettes got into her locker, 3 only she had the key. He also found it hard to believe that she was putting them in her pocket to take them to the principal. He felt disappointed that Lori would 4 to him because they had always been such a close and loving 5. He was also worried that she was beginning to 6 her life by getting involved in smoking, drinking, and drugs.

    Dad felt like 7 and punishing and letting her know how disappointed he was.

    8 , he decided to look for the positive. It is never difficult to find, if you are willing to look for it. As he got into Lori's 9 he could understand that she was probably having a tough time deciding how to 10 with family values and still be part of the crowd. He also realized that the only reason Lori would lie to him would be because she loved him so much that she wouldn't want to disappoint him.

    With this 11 , Dad approached Lori. Instead of scolding and punishing, he kindly said, "Lori, I'll bet it is really difficult trying to 12 how to stick up for what you believe and yet not be called a 13 by your friends.

    Lori felt such 14 as she said, "Yes, it is."

    Dad went on, "And I'll bet that if you would ever lie to us, it would be because you love us so much that you wouldn't want to disappoint us." Lori got tears in her eyes and could only nod in 15. Dad added, "Lori, we would be disappointed if you did something that would 16 you. But if you don't know that you can always tell us anything, then we aren't doing a good enough job in letting you know how much we love you — 17Lori gave her dad a big 18 , and they just held each other for a while.

    They never did directly discuss the problem of smoking and lying. Over a year has gone by, and Lori seems to delight in letting her mom and dad know every time she 19 the temptation(诱惑)to do something contrary to her 20. She also feels proud that she is influencing her friends to stick up for their belief.

Lily loved school. However, there was one class Lily worried about more than any other—art. She didn't know why she just wasn't any good at drawing, painting, or cutting.

Ms. Clay, the art teacher, stood at the front of the room. "Class, next Friday our school is going to have an art competition," she announced. Ms. Clay was a great teacher, and Lily liked her a lot. But this announcement made Lily nervous. "Everyone in the school will create a piece of artwork to show in the library. You can use the different types of artwork we have been studying." Ms. Clay was quite excited when she spoke while Lily found herself sinking lower in her chair.

Lily had the whole weekend to work on her project, but she could not think of anything to do. On Monday, Lily felt frightened, so after school Lily asked Ms. Clay if she could write an art paper instead of doing an art project.

"I understand this project scared you, Lily," Ms. Clay said. "Just remember, you can create any kind of art you want." Ms. Clay smiled at her. "Art is a person's way of expressing his or her feelings—it isn't always painting, drawing, or cutting. I know you will think of something very creative, and I can't wait to see it."

When Lily arrived home, she took out a piece of paper and a pencil. She remembered Ms. Clay's words. "Art is a person's way of expressing his or her feelings." Lily wrote the word "terrified" on her paper. She crumpled (揉皱) the paper and threw it to the side of her desk.

Then Lily stared at the crumpled ball. Suddenly an idea struck her.

Paragraph 1：

Why not create something out of crumpled paper?

Paragraph 2：

On Friday, Lily carefully carried her project into the library.