Abbaye, a master artist, was ready to retire in 1392. One day, Bartoli, a rich Italian merchant,  1 him saying, "Could you 2  my portrait on my banquet room wall? It's 20 feet tall.”

    “I'm ready to retire," Abbaye shook his head,“so I'm not  3.”But seeing the disappointment in Bartoli's eyes, he   4  his mind, "Well, there's a possibility if you can find it in your  5  to allow me to explore the  6  of my abilities. Furthermore, already I can see your 7 .So I insist

that while l work your portrait stay 8  even from you!”

    “No problem," Bartoli agreed, though he thought it was  9  ，"Anything you wish, but it must look realistic．”

Immediately the master artist  10  a high curtain in front of the wall, -through which Bartoli couldn't see at all.

A week passed. "How is it coming?" asked the  11   Bartoli.

     “It's coming quite well. You see, a masterpiece  12   quite a while at least.” Abbaye answered from behind the  13   ．

Another three, four weeks passed and  14half a year went by. Bartoli lost his  15 .“Today I must see it!" he shouted.

Stepping from behind the curtain 16  surprised by such anger, Abbaye said calmly," That's fine.

You needed only to request it.” And he  17  aside the 20 - foot curtain.

          Bartoli stared at the masterpiece and then his mouth 18  open. He was obviously so angry that his eyes  19  red. So what was wrong? Abbaye had drawn to his heart's  20  for 20 feet tall. Perhaps Bartoli couldn't tolerate his abstract expression, which Picasso would have been proud of.

    Compassion（同情心） is a desire within us to help others. With effort, we can translate compassion into 1. An experience last weekend showed me this is 2. I work part-time in a supermarket across from a building 3 the elderly. These old people are our main 4, and it's not hard to lose 5 over their slowness. But last Sunday, one 6 gentleman appeared to teach me a 7 lesson. The man walked up to my register with a box of biscuits. He said he was 8, had just moved into his room, and had 9 in his cupboards. He asked if we could let him have the food on trust. He promised to  10 me the next day.

    I couldn't help staring at him. I  11 what kind of person he had been years before, and 12 he would be like if luck had gong his way. I had a hurt in my heart for this kind of human soul. I told him that was 13 , but store rules didn't allow me to do so. I felt 14 and unkind saying this, but I 15 my job.

    Just then, another man, standing behind the first, spoke up. “If anything”, he looked more pitiable. “16 it to me.” was all he said.

    What I had been feeling was pity. Pity is soft and easy. Compassion, 17, is caring in action. I 18 the second man but told him that was not 19 either. Then I reached into my pocket and paid for the biscuits myself. I reached into my pocket 20 these two men had reached into my heart and taught me compassion.

    When I was 13 my only purpose was to become the star on our football team. That meant 1 Miller King, who was the best 2 at our school.

    Football season started in September and all summer long I worked out. I carried my football everywhere for 3.

    Just before September, Miller was struck by a car and lost his right arm. I went to see him after he came back from 4.He looked very 5,but he didn't cry.

    That season, I 6 all of Miller's records while he 7 the home games from the bench. We went 10-1 and I was named most valuable player,8 I often had crazy dreams in which I was to blame for Miller's 9.

    One afternoon ,I was crossing the field to go home and saw Miller 10 going over a fence-which wasn't 11 to climb if you had both arms. I'm sure I was the last person in the world he wanted to accept 12 from. But even that challenge he accepted. I 13 him move slowly over the fence. When we were finally 14 on the other side, he said to me, “You know, I didn't tell you this during the season, but you did 15.Thank you for filling in for 16.”

    His words freed me from my bad 17.I thought to myself, how even without an arm he was more of a leader. Damaged but not defeated, he was 18 ahead of me. I was right to have 19 him. From that day on, I grew 20 and a little more real.

    Miss Bessie was only five feet tall, but she was the only woman strict enough to make me read Beowulf. I shall never forget the day she 1 me and persuaded me to read it.

    “But Miss Bessie,” I complained, “I ain't much2 it.”

    “Boy,” she said, “how dare you say 'ain't' to me! I've taught you better than that.”

    “Miss Bessie,” I responded, “I'm trying to be the 3of the football team, and if I go around saying 'it isn't' and 'they aren't', my friends are going to laugh at me.”

    “Boy,” she said, “you want to be the leader4 you have courage. But do you know what5 takes courage? It's 6to lower your standards to those of the crowd.”

    Then, I 7 saying “it isn't” and “they aren't, '' and I 8 became the leader, without losing my friends' 9

    Born in 1895 in poverty, Miss Bessie grew up in Athens, Alabama. She never attended university because she could not 10 it. In the local high school, she11a lot about Shakespeare and the great importance of12“What you put in your head,” she once said, “can never be13 by anybody.”

    During her14 44-year career （职业生涯）, Miss Bessie taught hundreds of youngsters. I remember her now with 15and affection. Miss Bessie noticed things that had nothing to do with schoolwork, but were important to a youngster's 16 Once a few classmates 17 my worn-out overcoat, and as I was leaving school, Miss Bessie18 me,” Carl, never worry about what you don't have. Just make the most of what you do have —a brain.

    When Miss Bessie died in 1980, hundreds of her former 19mourned. Many of them20 by Miss Bessie's example, became excellent teachers.

    People from every corner flooded into the streets that Christmas Eve. "Frosty the Snowman," and "Jingle Bells" 1 in stores; on the pavements, the street singers performed happily. Everyone, was 2 by someone else, delighted and cheerful. I was alone.

    As one of 8 kids of a Brazilian family, brought up in America's crowded apartment, I'd spent several years searching for aloneness. Now, 3, at 27, a college student after the 4 with my girlfriend, every cell inside me wanted to be alone, 5 not at Christmas. My family had 6 to Brazil and my friends were 7 with their own lives. Dusk was approaching, and the fact that I had to return to my 8 home made me sad. Lights from windows blinked, and I hoped someone would 9 from one of those homes to invite me inside with a Christmas tree decorated with shiny fake snow and 10presents.

    At a market, I felt more 11 when people were buying lots of goods, which 12 the gifts we received as children in my mind. I missed my family and wanted to cry for wanting to be alone and for having achieved it.

    Outside the church , a manger (小耶稣) had been set 13. I stood with others watching the scene, some of them 14 themselves, praying. As I walked home, I realized that leaving Brazil was still a 15experience as I struggled with whatI had become in 15 years in America. I'd mourned the 16, but for the first time, I recognized what I'd gained. I was independent, 17 and healthy. My life was still ahead, full of18.

    Sometimes the best gift is the one that you give yourself. That Christmas, I gave myself 19 for what I'd obtained up to now and promise to go forward. It is the best gift I've ever got, the one that I most 20.

    Whenever my kids have a party at school, I am the mom who always signs up to bring the juice boxes. It's not because I'm 1 or that I don't care if my kids have a good party. I am just not good at making homemade bread into holiday-themed shapes like other mothers. 2, I'm happy to try, even though it'll 3 me a long time to do it.

    People say that housewives should have the 4 to make delicious meals, keep their houses clean, and 5 every minute of their child's life. Their words used to 6 me a lot. I felt that I should also be able to do those things as a housewife. So 7 I couldn't make the turkey-shaped cookies, I 8 feeling like a failure as a mom.

    After many 9 attempts at baking, and many afternoons spent crying over my inabilities as a mother, I finally accepted the 10 that my lot (命运) in life is to be the juice box mom. I worked hard to be the 11 one in the elementary school. And after one of my daughter's class parties, it 12. Her teacher stopped me as I was leaving and said, “Thank you so much for always bringing 13 drinks. Sometimes parents forget that other children will also 14 class parties, and they end up being left out because we don't have enough 15 for everyone.”

    I just accepted her appreciation（感激）, rather than telling her that I brought extra drinks because I could 16 remember how many kids were in the class. But her 17 taught me an important lesson: I'm not a failure as a mom.

    Not everyone is cut out to be a(n) 18 mom. I believe it's okay to be the juice box mom. I may not bake cookies and decorate them beautifully, but I 19 something to drink. And I think that's just as 20.