When I was eighteen, I couldn't wait to get my first job, which meant I made the first step toward adulthood.

    But it was difficult to get a work permit. One day I was dropped off by my parents at the1, where applicants took their physical tests for work permits. Although I had night blindness, my vision was clearer during the day, which helped me walk 2 by myself. Then the doctor began the 3. He looked into my eyes with a bright light. “I suggest your parents take you to an eye specialist,” he said, “I  4 you have a retinal(视网膜)disease. If you do, you will never 5a day in your life… ”

    My parents did take me to specialists. After much time and money spent seeking an6result，it was determined that I had an eye disease that slowly 7a person of sight. But still, during daylight, I could walk without 8. I could read, but not for hours. My eyes began to 9 and words slipped off the page when I read more than a few pages. However, no matter how tired my eyes became, I never gave up reading. I knew the 10of great writers as well as the most popular music stars. Their words were powerful, which 11 me to try writing. Soon writing brought me a lot of 12each time I completed a paper.

    Then an important phone call from an editor changed my life．An article I 13 appeared in a local newspaper. The newspaper, to my 14, continued to print my work. Next, a book series published several of my essays. I got interested in writing and 15 up with each acceptance. On the pages, readers never knew of my blindness 16I chose to present it. For me, finding my voice through writing gave me the pride and satisfaction I 17 so many years ago. Now, I have numerous essays and articles in 18.

    Should I be thanking that misguided doctor? By falsely predicting that I could never work a day, he fueled my 19 into success. He set the bar too 20 and focused on what I wouldn't be able to do. Yet I proved what I could do.

    Dante Gabriel Rossetti was a famous 19th-century poet and artist.One day,he was1by an elderly man.The old fellow had some sketches and drawings that he wanted Rossetti to look at and tell him if they were any good,2if they at least showed3talent.

    Rossetti examined them carefully.After the first few, he knew that they were4,showing not the least5of artistic talent.But Rossetti was a kind man,and he told the elderly man as6as possible that the pictures were without much7and showed little talent.He was sorry,but he could not 8 to the man.The visitor was9 ,but seemed to10 Rossetti's judgment.

    He then11for taking up Rossetti's time,but12to ask whether he would just look at a few more drawings—these done by a young art student.Rossetti looked over the second batch of sketches and immediately became 13 over the talent they14 .“These,”he said,“oh,these are good.This young student has great talent.He should be given every help and encouragement in his15 as an artist.He has a great future if he will work hard and16it.”

    Rossetti could see that the old fellow was deeply17 .“Who is this fine young artist?”he asked.“Your son?” “No,”said the old man18 “It is me—40 years ago.If only I had heard your19then!For you see,I got discouraged and gave up—too20”

    I used to live selfishly, I should admit. But one moment changed me. I was on my lunch break and had 1 the office to get something to eat. On the way, I 2 a Busker (街头艺人), with a hat in front of him. I had some 3 in my pocket, but I would not give them to him, thinking to myself he would 4 use the money to feed his addiction (上瘾)to drugs or alcohol. He 5 like that type …young and ragged. 6 what was I going to spend the money on? Only to feed my addiction to Coca-Cola or chocolate! I then 7 I had no right to place myself above 8 just because he was busking.

I 9 and dropped all the coins into his 10, and he smiled at me, I watched for a while. As 11 as it sounds, I expected something more to come from that moment—a feeling of12 or satisfaction, for example. But nothing happened. 13, I walked off. "It proved to be a waste of 14," I thought.

    On my way home at the end of the 15, I saw the busker again and he was 16. I watched him pick up the hat and walk 17 a cafe counter. There he  poured the 18 money into a tin collecting 19 an earthquake fund-raising (募捐) event. He was busking for charity (慈善)!

    Now I donate any 20 I have to charity tins and enjoy the feeling of giving.

    The other night, I had to go to a meeting, which lasted past my daughter's bedtime. I 1  home and was brushing my teeth when I 2, and there on the bathroom mirror was a note in the  3 of a heart. It said, “Hi, Mom! I Love You. Laurel. ” 4, I cut a heart out of a piece of paper, and pasted(贴) a(n) 5 next to hers, saying, “I Love You, too, Laurel. Love, Mom”, which she  6 the next morning.

    Our family has 7 that by integrating(互相) writing into our 8 activities, we become more thoughtful of each other. Meanwhile, our daughter is learning to enjoy writing and becoming a(n) 9 writer.

    While teaching in a primary school, I 10 how influential parents can be as children learn to write. 11 when our daughter first began to scribble（乱涂）, I became 12 by her work. I offered praise for her 13, for I found that scribbling is far more complex and important than I had 14. It was obvious that her scribbles, 15 being lovely art objects, showed a lot about her 16 of the world of writing.

    Gradually, our family began writing a great deal. I sensed that writing helped Laurel learn 17 to read. As a matter of fact, by 18 my own child and her friends and by reading professional books, I became more and more 19 about how writing develops and how 20 can help children become eager writers.

    I stood in the yard with my son. He had a 1of bubbles（泡沫） and would dip and dip and blow and blow, but no bubbles. He 2me the bottle and loop and asked me, “Daddy, can you 3bubbles?”

    I hadn't blown bubbles in years. Though as a 4, I have successfully performed various experiments, I was having no more5than my son. I would dip and puff（喷出）,but failed.

    After several 6attempts, I changed ways.7puffing on the loop of soapy water, I gently breathed on it. My son shouted with 8as a big beautiful bubble 9and floated away. He grabbed the loop, dipped and blew, but nothing happened as it was 10. I explained to him, “Son, you can't blow 11.You must so gently breathe on the loop.” He stopped his strong 12to create big bubbles by blowing with a lot of strength and 13my advice. Big bubbles came into being.

    There are some things that you can get with cruel14, but there are other things that only 15with the gentleness of a soft breath. Too often, we try to force 16and affection from whom we like. It won't happen. The greater force we put on it, the 17we will gain. Just like the bubbles, it bursts before it can ever 18because we put too much force on it. It can't be forced and is more often19in the soft things of life. Blow beautiful bubbles; breathe 20.

    When the dirty orange cat turned up in the prison yard, I was one of the first to go out there and pet it. I hadn't1a cat or a dog in over 20 years. It was graceful to feel him and know that I was2the life of another creature. I believe that caring for something or someone3is what makes us human.

    Over the next few days, I watched other prisoners4to the cat. They stood around talking and taking5petting the cat. These were guys you wouldn't usually find talking to each other. Several times I saw an officer in the group—not forcing people away,6just watching and seeming to7it.

    Bowls of milk and water appeared, along with bread,8placed under the edge of the dustbin to9the seagulls(海鸥)from getting it. The cat was obviously in pretty bad10. One prisoner brought out his small11, and trimmed(修剪)for him.

    People said, "That cat came to the right place. He's getting12like a king." This was true. But as I watched, I was also thinking about what the13was doing for us.

    There's a lot of talk about what's14with prisons in America. We need more15or treatment of various kinds. Some even talk about making prisons more kind, but I think what we really need is a chance to16kindness ourselves. Not receive it, but17it.

    They've taken him away now—18to a comfortable home—but it did my heart good to see the effect he had19me and the men here. He didn't have a PhD, he wasn't a psychologist, but by simply saying, "I need some help here," he did something important for us. He needed us, and we need to be20. I believe we all do.