Many years have passed, but she still remembers the last day of her whole class. They got together to say goodbye to their 1 schooldays. She wonders herself if any of them still remembers their2, now that time has cloaked the past memories with layers of dust and 3 each fate beyond any expectations.

    The jolly “dwarf” of the class has now4 a successful businessman. The shy skinny “bookworm” is now a talented Ph.D. Trying his luck in some5 land in the Western atmosphere. The naughty, tomboy has6 her carefree laughter in exchange for a sheltered, comfortable life. And7, a literature addict, was driven by an inner force to put her pen aside and become a8 instead.

    She decided to9 her old teacher, who had sowed the seed for the cause of nurturing people in her directionless mind10 his poetical lessons. She used to dream of the enlightened faces of her 11and their round eyes running over every page of the books. Yet, at the most12 turn of her life's course, she didn't 13literature for her career, for she had been told that literature is just like a magical paradise to which the way is extremely 14.

    Her hands are so small; 15 can they hold the depths and the fullness that literature can bring? Still, she promises herself to go16, bearing in mind the last17 of her dear teacher, “Don't18what you give or receive. Learn to live generously to enjoy life, even when it's not generous toward us.”

    Now, she is a teacher, yet she has to continue learning numerous difficult19 of life. The more she20, the better she understands the value of her teacher's last lesson.

    Charlotte Whitehead was born in England in 1843, and moved to Montreal, Canada at the age of five with her family. While  1 her ill elder sister throughout the years, Charlotte discovered she had a(an) 2in medicine. At 18 she married and3 a family. Several years later, Charlotte said she wanted to be a 4. Her husband supported her decision.5 , Canadian medical schools did not 6women students at the time. Therefore, Charlotte went to the United States to study 7  at the Women's Medical College in Philadelphia. It took her five years to8 her medical degree.

    Upon graduation, Charlotte  9  to Montreal and set up a private 10. Three years later, she moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba, and there she was once again a 11 doctor. Many of her patients were from the nearby timber and railway camps. Charlotte12  herself operating on damaged limbs and setting 13 bones, in addition to delivering all the babies in the area.

    But Charlotte had been practicing without a license. She had 14 a doctor's license in both Montreal and Winnipeg, but was15. The Manitoba College of Physicians and Surgeons, an all-male board, wanted her to16 her studies at a Canadian medical college! Charlotte refused to 17  her patients to spend time studying what she already knew. So in 1887, she appealed to the Manitoba Legislature to 18a license to her but they, too, refused. Charlotte19 to practice without a license until 1912. She died four years later at the age of 73.

    In 1993, 77 years after her 20, a medical license was issued to Charlotte. This decision was made by the Manitoba Legislature to honor “this courageous and pioneering woman.”

    When I was eight, I wrote my first poem. My mother read and cried, “Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful poem!” Shyly, but 1, I said yes. She poured out her 2.“It was nothing short of talent!” “What time will Father be home?” I asked. I could 3 wait to show my work to him. I spent quite some time 4 for his arrival. I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish(花体字), drew a fancy border around it and 5 I placed it right on my father's plate on the dining table. My father had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. I was sure he would be able to 6 my poem.

    At almost 7 o'clock my father burst in. He seemed 7. He circled the dining-room table, complaining about his employees. 8 he paused and glared at his plate. “What is this?” He's reaching for my poem. “Ben, Buddy has written his first poem!” my mother began. “And it's beautiful, absolutely amaze...” “If you don't mind, I'd like to decide for myself.” Father said. I 9 my head as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. Then I heard him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of 10. “I think it's terrible,” he said. I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting 11.

    “Ben, these are the first lines of poetry he's ever written,” my mother was saying. “He needs encouragement.” “I don't know why.” My father held his ground. “Isn't there enough 12 poetry in the world already?” I couldn't 13it another second. I ran from the dining room crying. Up in my room I 14 myself on the bed and cried the worst of the disappointment out of me.

That may have been the end of the story, but not of its 15 for me. I realized how 16 I had been. I had a mother who said, “I think it's wonderful!” and a father who drove me to hear with “I think it's awful.” Every one of us needs that mother force, from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is 17. It needs the balance of the force that 18, “Watch. Listen. Review. Improve.”

    Those 19 voices of my childhood ring in my ears through the years, like two opposing winds blowing me. 20 the two poles of confirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.

    Many years ago, I was working in an office in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We had a large 1that looked out over a busy street. I was standing by it one day when a woman in a 2car looked up and made eye contact. Naturally I 3. As she turned and tried to identify me, a quiet laugh 4 my 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 was approached, and job 7were announced. Several of my co-workers were losing their jobs, and everyone was8. While I was working a night shift, a red jacket, a box of foam(泡沫橡胶)packing and strips of tape in the corner attracted my 9. They could be Santa's jacket and beard! Then I folded a red file into a 10 and tied the beard to it. The next day I walked 11 down into the office in the costume. My co-workers 12 around me and laughed for the first time in weeks. Suddenly, my boss came up to me, 13, shook his head and then left. I feared 14. 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 17 it."

    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.

    I feel that I was blessed by an Angel not long ago  I was out in town with my husband. We live in a 1 town. Because of the cold, my 2 shrunk, causing my anniversary ring to 3. I didn't notice this until we got home. I became 4 ill ached all over. I thought my husband was going to have a heart attack.

    Although it is a material item, it is yet very 5. He went out and retraced our 6 to where we came back. I called the stores we were in and no one 7 it in. I thought it was 8 for sure.

    Well, at around midnight last night, our dogs went mad. We have a sunroom 9 to our home. The door to that is usually 10. But that night, we left it unlocked. My all-terrain motor scooter (小型摩托车) was 11 out there. In its basket was a ring box…holding my ring! Along with the ring was a diamond circle.

    There was also a 12 that told the story of this stranger 13 the ring and recognizing the work, as it is a piece made particularly. The person then went to the jeweler and 14 about finding the ring. The jeweler is a friend of mine so she gave her my 15 and the town is so small, we are 16 to find. The stranger who found the ring 17 the ribbon (丝线) in the store in order to keep the ring around the finger when it is 18 out. And then also left a gift card for us to take our family out to the movies as a Christmas gift. The note was 19 "Santa's Elf (小精灵)". My friend is keeping her lips 20 about whom it was.

    Songs bring us through our life. Each time I listen to my favorite song Reach, I'm deeply 1 by its lyrics: "If I could reach higher, just one moment touch the sky..." When we hear this 2 song sung by Gloria Estefan, we can 3 imagine how she managed to return to the stage after her serious back injury. In 1990, this Cuban singer was 4 down in a terrible traffic accident, and the doctor 5 that she might never walk again. But Gloria did not 6 and kept on working hard toward her 7. Just one year after the disaster 8, she stood up again and 9 this encouraging song at the Atlanta Olympics.

    Whenever I think of Gloria, a 10 crowds in my mind. When I entered university, naturally shy, ordinary looking, and with 11 scores in my lessons, just like an ugly duckling. I seemed to be the 12 outstanding one in my class. Continuous failures drove me into 13. "Am I to take a back seat to everyone else?" 14 to give in to such a fate I spared no effort to work on my lessons and joined in many 15, such as English speech contests and dramas. I just wanted to catch every little chance to 16 myself. My continuous efforts finally paid off. I received some 17. More importantly, I 18 courage and confidence to face any difficulty in my life.

    19 is just like farming. You 20 what you sow. Once you have a dream, don't hesitate. Keep moving!