Once upon a time, there lived two parent parrots. Every morning they flew out to 1 food for their two young birds. One day, a hunter 2 the young birds. The young birds 3 to free themselves from the hands of the hunter. One 4 from the hunter, while the other was taken in a cage by the hunter to his house. He gave it to his 5.

    The other parrot flew away and came to a place where some holy men lived. They did not 6 the young parrot, so it stayed there. It 7 their talk and learned to say a few words.

    Several years later, a traveler was walking near the hunter's hut(小屋). He sat near the hut, extremely 8. He heard the parrot that lived there say, “9, why have you come here? I will cut your throat.” The traveler 10 got up and left the place in a hurry. Then he happened to reach the place where the other parrot lived. The parrot was sitting on a tree. Seeing the traveler, it said, “Welcome, traveler. Welcome to this hermitage(偏僻的寺院). We have a lot of good 11 in this forest, which looks sweet and delicious. Eat whatever you like. The holy men will 12 you well.”

    The traveler was 13. He couldn't understand why this parrot was so polite 14 the other one was so rude. They were both parrots, after all. 15 it wasn't strange. The parrot he met first lived with the hunter's children who often spoke 16 words, while the parrot he met later had learned the 17 of holy people.

    Our growing environment is of great 18. It is the company that shapes our words and deeds. Good company helps us learn good things while bad company 19 the contrary. Therefore, choose the 20 people to grow up with.

    I come from one of those families where you have to yell at the dinner table to get in a word. Everyone has a strong1 and talks at the same time, and no one has a2leading to heated arguments. We often talk or even debate with each other on different topics.

    3 a family like mine has made me more 4 about the world around me, making me tend to 5 anything any one tells me. But it has also made me realize that I'm not a good listener. And when I say “listening”, I'm not 6 to the nodding-your-head-and-politely-answering-Uh-huh-or-Ooh-I-see variety. I mean the kind of listening where you find yourself deeply 7 with the person you're speaking with, when his story becomes so 8that your world becomes less about you and more about him. No, I was never very good at that.

    I spent summer in South Africa two years ago. I worked for a good non-profit 9 called Noah, which works 10 on behalf of children affected by AIDS. But 11 you asked me what I really did in South Africa, I'd tell you one thing: I listened, and I listened. Sometimes I 12 but mostly I listened.

    And had I not spent two months 13, I might have missed the 14moment when a quiet little girl at one of Noah's community centers, orphaned（孤儿）at the age of three, whispered after a long 15 “I love you.”16 that summer, I knew how to hear. I could sit down with anyone and hear their 17 and nod and respond at the18 time—but most of the time I was 19 about the next words out of my own month. Ever since my summer in South Africa, I have noticed that it's in those moments when my mouth is closed and my20 is wide open that I've learned the most about other people, and perhaps about myself.

    Many years ago, I was working in an office in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We had large 1 that look out over a busy street. I was standing by one of those windows one day when a woman in a 2 car looked up and made eye contact. Naturally I 3. As she turned and tried to identify me, a quiet laugh4my lips. My co-workers began taking an interest, and stood back watching the 5 I received, and laughing happily. Then the stress of work was 6 away.

    Christmas approached, and job 7 were announced. Several of my co-workers were losing their jobs, and everyone was 8. While I was working a night shift, a red jacket , a box of foam packing and strips of tape in the corner caught my 9. They could be Santa's jacket and beard! Then I folded a red file into a hat and tied the 10 to it. With the red jacket , a Santa's Costume appeared.

    The next day I walked 11down into the office in the costume. My co-workers 12around me and laughed for the first time in weeks. Suddenly, my boss came to me, 13, shook his head and then left. I feared14. Then the phone rang.

    With a bead of sweat 15 my forehead, I entered the boss' office . 16, he laughed: "Thanks, Mike! It's been hard to enjoy the Christmas season. Thanks for the laugh. I 17it."

    That evening, I stood 18 by the window and waved at my fans, with my heart 19 with joy. For a few minutes of that day, we'd been able to forget our 20.

    One afternoon, I went to pick up my mother from work. 1, I looked outside the car window, there was a small park 2 I saw a little boy running freely on the grass as his mother watched from a short distance. The boy would then fall to the grass, 3 , and without hesitation or without looking back at his mother, run as fast as he could, again, still with a smile on his face, 4 nothing happened.

    When they fall down, kids don't 5 their falling down as a failure, but 6, they treat it as a learning experience, 7 just another result of outcome. They try and try again 8 they succeed. They haven't associated “falling down” with the word "9" yet, thus they don't know how to feel the state which accompanies failure. So they don't 10. Plus, they probably think to themselves that it's perfectly okay to fall down, and that it's not 11to do so. In other words, they give themselves 12 to make mistakes, subconsciously.

    While I was13by the boy's persistence, I was equally touched by the 14 in which he ran. With each attempt, he looked so confident… so natural. His only aim was to run freely and to do it as effectively as he could. He was just being a child—just being himself—being completely in the moment. He was not looking for approval or was not worrying about15 someone was watching. He wasn't 16 about being judged. He didn't seem to be bothered by 17 that maybe someone would see him fall. No, what 18 to him was to accomplish the task or activity 19 to the best of his ability.

    I learned a lot from that 20 and experience, and have successfully brought that lesson with me in my life.

    I come from one of those families where you have to yell at the dinner table to get in a word. Everyone has a strong 1, and talks at the same time, and no one has a 2 leading to heated arguments. We often talk or even debate with each other on different topics. 3 a family like mine has made me more 4 about the world around me, making me tend to question anything anyone tells me. But it has also made me realize that I'm not a good listener. And when I say "listening", I'm not 5 to the nodding-your-head-and-6-answering-Uh-huh-or-Ooh-I-see variety. I mean the kind of listening where you find yourself deeply 7 with the person you're speaking with, when his story becomes so 8 that your world becomes less about you and more about him. No, I was never very good at that.

    I spent summer in South Africa two years ago. I worked for a good non-profit 9 called Noah, which works 10 on behalf of children affected by AIDS. But 11 you asked me what I really did in South Africa, I'd tell you one thing: I listened, and I listened. Sometimes I 12, but mostly listened.

    And had I not spent two months 13, I might have missed the 14 moment when a quiet little girl at one of Noah's community centers, orphaned（孤儿）at the age of three, whispered after a long 15, "I love you."

    16 that summer, I knew how to hear. I could sit down with anyone and hear their 17 and nod and respond at the 18 time­but most of the time I was 19 about the next words out of my own mouth. Ever since my summer in South Africa, I have noticed that it's in those moments when my mouth is closed and my 20 is wide open that I've learned the most about other people, and perhaps about myself.

    As the train picked up its speed, the passengers slowly settled down on their seats, I1the lower berth(铺位),so that I could enjoy the2of outside from the moving train. I don t know why I always preferred to get the 3 seat. An elderly lady4the front seat of mine. I looked at her. She must be in her eighties, I guessed. At one point, we met our5. She smiled at me and I gave her a response. Both of us were6. By that time, the train was in its full speed.

    It was 4:50 pm, evening time. So,7time was still in a long way, I couldn't8myself any longer and asked, "Auntie! Where are you going?"

    She looked at me and friendly said, "9 camp, dear."

    Suddenly my enthusiasm10to know the reason. I politely said. "Auntie, you are 11 someone?"

    She smiled and said, "Yes!"

    Just to continue the conversation, I talked to her in a very cheerful 12. "Auntie, you must he feeling so13to see your child and your grandchildren."

    14, this question hurt her a little but boldly (大胆地) she answered, "Oh, dear! You are so sweet! Anyway, I had only one son who was15and was killed in a battle just a few days before. I bought so many new clothes for him. So, I thought why not 16my son's clothes for some other soldiers, so that I would control my 17and would be happy thinking that my own son has18it."

    I was shocked hearing her heartbreaking story! But I19the old lady from the core of my heart, I was thinking of her20heart!