1 . The clearing of my parents’ home has made me think about the importance, even centrality of books to the house’s life and soul. The house, and our lives in it, would not have been the same without books. The force of the statement comes home to me as I see what happens when shelves are emptied. The rooms suddenly look uncomfortably bare.

I always rather took it for granted that books furnished a room. The only rooms in our house without books were the dining-room and the bathrooms. Otherwise there were books everywhere: in all the bedrooms, in the drawing-room and in the piano room which became my parents’ comfortable winter study.

I couldn’t help feeling that books were rather like people: some more formal and boring, others more entertaining; some simply for show, others with unpromising outsides but rich interiors. They had more, in fact, than furnish a room, and they were companions who will offer insights, good advice.

Now the books are being contributed (not all, to be sure, but very many), and I fear for their future, almost as if they were refugees (难民). “Habent sua fata libelli”, goes as the old Latin saying, originally written by Retentions; it meant that the fate and future of books were determined by the capability of the reader. But the meaning of the phrase has been misunderstood by time and is now associated with the physical fate of particular books, how they have passed from owner to owner. This is how Walter Benjamin read the saying when he wrote his essay “Unpacking My Library”, which analyses the extraordinarily close relationship between a collector and his or her books.

As I deal with the books –many are going to charity (慈善) shops and I hope they will find good homes–I can’t help wondering if my generation is the last that will oversee such a process. Books are disappearing, as more and more are bought in electronic form and exist only as bytes of information on E–books or other devices. Does this matter? Could books become more spiritual, as they lose their physicality?

2 . The clearing of my parents' home has made me think about the importance, even centrality of books to the house's life and soul. The house, and our lives in it, would not have been the same without books. The force of the statement comes home to me as I see what happens when shelves are emptied. The rooms suddenly look uncomfortably bare.

I always rather took it for granted that books furnished a room. The only rooms in our house without books were the dining-room and the bathrooms. Otherwise there were books everywhere: in all the bedrooms, in the drawing-room and in the piano room which became my parents' comfortable winter study.

I couldn't help feeling that books were rather like people: some more formal and boring, others more entertaining; some simply for show, others with unpromising outsides but rich interiors. They had more, in fact, than furnish a room, and they were companions who will offer insights, good advice.

Now the books are being contributed (not all, to be sure, but very many), and I fear for their future, almost as if they were refugees(难民). “Habent sua fata libelli”, goes as the old Latin saying, originally written by Retentions; it meant that the fate and future of books were determined by the capability of the reader. But the meaning of the phrase has been misunderstood by time and is now associated with the physical fate of particular books, how they have passed from owner to owner. This is how Walter Benjamin read the saying when he wrote his essay “Unpacking My Library”, which analyses the extraordinarily close relationship between a collector and his or her books.

As I deal with the books –many are going to charity (慈善) shops and I hope they will find good homes–I can’t help wondering if my generation is the last that will oversee such a process. Books are disappearing, as more and more are bought in electronic form and exist only as bytes of information on E–books or other devices. Does this matter? Could books become more spiritual, as they lose their physicality?

6 . Like many new graduates, I left university full of hope for the future but with no real idea of what I wanted to do. My degree, with honors, in English literature had not really prepared me for anything practical. I knew I wanted to make a difference in the world somehow, but I had no idea how to do that. That’s when I learned about the Lighthouse Project.

I started my journey as a Lighthouse Project volunteer by reading as much as I could about the experiences of previous volunteers. I knew it would be a lot of hard work, and that I would be away from my family and friends for a very long time. In short, I did not take my decision to apply for the Lighthouse Project lightly. Neither did my family.

Eventually, however, I won the support of my family, and I sent in all the paperwork needed for the application. After countless interviews and presentations, I managed to stand out among the candidates and survive the test alone. Several months later, I finally received a call asking me to report for duty. I would be going to a small village near Abuja, Nigeria. Where? What? Nigeria? I had no idea. But I was about to find out.

After completing my training, I was sent to the village that was small and desperately in need of proper accommodation. Though the local villagers were poor, they offered their homes, food, and hearts as if I were their own family. I was asked to lead a small team of local people in building a new schoolhouse. For the next year or so, I taught in that same schoolhouse. But I sometimes think I learned more from my students than they did from me.

Sometime during that period, I realized that all those things that had seemed so strange or unusual to me no longer did, though I did not get anywhere with the local language, and returned to the United States a different man. The Lighthouse Project had changed my life forever.

7 . I have been adopted by an American family since I was fifteen months old. Growing up in the second-whitest county in California, I had little interest in my ________ as an adopted Chinese American. After I moved to Tucson, my curiosity about my identities ________ as I was exposed to a larger Chinese population there.

During my four years at Northern Arizona University (NAU), I took two years of ________ language courses, which was a major marker in my adventure to ________ myself.

Through my class, I was introduced to the NAU Chinese culture club, where I ________ my knowledge of Chinese culture and connected with international students from China and students who were deeply ________ Chinese culture.

Then I had an opportunity to study abroad in Hong Kong for a year. Surrounded by mainly people who looked like me, I did not feel like I ________ as I usually do in the US. I became ________ connected to Hong Kong and its ________. The experience ________ me to find beauty and ________ in the complexities (难题) of holding many identities.

After returning from my ________ abroad, I started to volunteer at the Education Abroad Office at NAU. I ________ my experience and encouraged other NAU students to go abroad, as it was such a ________ experience and enabled me to better understand myself. I’m ________ to call myself an adopted Chinese American.

8 . I used to think my little comer of urban England was somewhere I could get away from the stress and strain of modern-day life — until they moved in next door. There are two of them. They are white, woolly and probably have sharp teeth as well as loud bark. But every time their constant barking interrupts my sleep, I remind myself that, in many respects, I am lucky. The neighbors don’t hold all-night parties, nor do they shout or throw crockery at each other, and though their dogs may bark, they don’t bite.

According to a recent consumer magazine report on “nightmare neighbors”, dogs are the fifth most common source of bad relations between neighbors. Noise of any description heads the list of complaints, followed by DIY enthusiasts, parking quarrelling, and arguments over house extensions.

So what alternatives are there? One is to take legal action. But this can be time-consuming and expensive and does nothing to improve already difficult relationships. The other alternatives are to sell up and go, or to try to reach a solution with the help of someone neutral. Mediation UK — the United Nations equivalent of garden fence conflicts — was set in 1984 to help resolve community disagreements.

In most cases, the lack of communication is found the main cause of conflict. David Nation of Plymouth Mediation points to poor public housing and widespread unemployment as additional factors. He also reports more cases of complaints from people who live in flats. Large houses built in the nineteenth century and designed as single-occupation family homes have, he says, been changed into flats with little or no attention to sound insulation. Dividing walls are paper thin and hardly block out sound at all.

Buyers can also be put off by the external appearance of neighboring houses. Anything from wild, uncared for gardens to unusual external color schemes can put off buyers — even though the offending property is next door. But it could be worse. John Gladden, of Norbury in Surrey upset his neighbors in St Oswald’s Road by mounting a huge fish in fiberglass (玻璃纤维) and putting it on the roof of his house. The local council argued that he should have got planning permission; residents thought the fish did nothing to improve the appearance of the neighborhood, and war broke out. Sightseers poured in and homes near the suburban property can now be hard to sell.