1 . Sometimes the people who give you warmth are strangers. They brighten your day or your life. Snow makes everything white. But a ________ on a cold winter morning made my heart ________.

For several days snow fell heavily. It lay many inches thick on the ground. My home is not far from the Hill Park station. Every morning I ________ to the station and caught the eight o’clock train. When I got out of the train, I was about to ________ out of the railway station when my eyes got ________ on one old guy. The morning cold winter ________ were piercing (刺入) through my woolen ________. I felt it cutting through my flesh and bones．

I was walking quickly when I ________ the old man wasn’t wearing anything on his ________ nor scarf around his neck, ________he was sitting in freezing winds. I don’t know how he was going to ________ those cold winters.

I went to him and asked the reason for not wearing any hat. He gave me a strange ________ and said nothing. I got the sign that probably he felt embarrassed about the question that I asked him. So I ________off my woolen hat and handed it to him. I told him to keep wearing it. He then smiled. I smiled ________ and left. Actually, after you do a favor or offer a convenience, you will be deeply ________ by others. We said nothing, but we all enjoyed the warmth, friendship and generosity from each other.

3 . Even now, I have vivid memories of my last day of high school. In my mind’s eye, I’m cleaning out my locker, and then staring at the emptiness for a few extra beats before slamming it shut for the last time. I’m wandering in the halls with my best friend, blissfully ignoring the bells going off every 50 minutes on schedule because, just today, we’re allowed to break the rules. I’m sitting on my desk, swinging my feet, and chatting with my English teacher, Mr. Carr, in a way that makes me feel almost grown up.

It was maybe my favorite day of the whole year. Like the final layer of watercolor, the freedom and lightness I feel seeps (渗透) into the rest of my memories of that day and turns them just a shade rosier.

If the school year hasn’t yet ended for you, consider what you can do to make the ending count. Why? Because when it comes to human memory, not all moments are created equal. Instead, our remembered experiences are disproportionately(不成比例地) influenced by peaks(the best moments as well as the worst) and endings(the last moments). Nobel Prizewinner Danny Kahneman, who discovered this phenomenon, called this the peak-end rule. It suggests that our judgment of a past experience is largely based on its most extreme point and its endpoint.

I took advantage of the peak-end rule years ago, when my girls were young enough to want a bedtime story each night. I remember thinking that whatever trouble and stress had occurred that day, I could make the last moments count. I could end on a note of calm and act like the patient mom I hadn’t quite managed to be just hours before.

Don’t mistake all moments as equal in significance. There’s a reason why yoga classes end with savasana (挺卧式). There’s a reason we eat dessert last. Do organize endings carefully. As Pete Carroll might say: Finish strong. Last impressions are especially lasting.

5 . It has been heard for years: technology is ruining our lives. We are often told that it weakens our eyes light and productivity. I don’t buy into that mindset(心态) because we all have free will and can limit our technology intakes responsibly. However, one of the strongest bad effects of the technological age has been the downfall of reading books.

Before we had phones, books were sources of entertainment. I know I’m not the only one who spent nights as a child with a flashlight hidden under my covers so that I could finish a book when I was supposed to be sleeping. I still remember one of my favorite novels was Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, from which I learned about the value of friendship.

Reading a book often feels even more pleasant than watching a movie. We create our own worlds, pictures of the characters and views of the events described. Reading requires complete focus, so it pulls us out of our daily lives, our fears and our problems. Reading a book brings us into a state of peace and adventure, letting us dive into others’ worlds.

Reading a book takes time and requires attentions, which is almost impossible in a world in which plenty of distractions(使人分心的事) exist at the mere opening of a phone lock screen. Many people even report feeling distracted by their phones while watching TV. If people are feeling distracted when watching TV shows, how can they focus on reading a novel, a task that requires complete attention?

I was recently on vacation and found myself on an eight-hour plane ride with no Internet access. At first, this seemed unbearable, but then I remembered I had packed a book in my bag. I started the book, and within minutes, I was totally absorbed. I spent the rest of my journey reading it.

I advise anyone wanting to rediscover the joys of reading, to simulate(模拟) the environment I was forced to enter into by getting on the airplane. Turn your phone off and find a quiet space. Pickup an old favorite book from childhood or a new one. Then, sit down and begin to create your own world.

6 . Every year about 40,000 people attempt to climb Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa. They bring with them lots of waste. The_________ might damage the beauty of the place. The glaciers (冰川) are disappearing, changing the_________ of Kilimanjaro.

Hearing these stories, I’m_________ about the place — other destinations are described as “purer” natural experiences.

However, I soon discovered that much has changed since the days of disturbing reports of_________ among tons of rubbish. I find a clean mountain, with toilets at camps and along the paths. The environmental challenges are_________ but the efforts made by the Tanzania National Park Authority seem to be_________ .

The best of a Kilimanjaro_________ , in my opinion, isn’t reaching the top. Mountains are regarded as spiritual places by many cultures. This_________ is especially evident on Kilimanjaro as climbers go through five ecosystems (生态系统) in the space of a few kilometers. At the base is a rainforest. It ends abruptly at 3, 000 meters,_________ lands of low growing plants. Further up, the weather__________ — low clouds envelope the mountainsides, which are covered with thick grass. I __________ twelve shades of green from where I stand. Above 4, 000 meters is the highland __________ : gravel (砾石), stones and rocks. __________ you climb into an arctic-like zone with__________ snow and the glaciers that may soon disappear.

Does Kilimanjaro deserve its__________ as a crowded mountain with lines of tourists ruining the atmosphere of peace? I found the opposite to be true.

7 . I remember as a young child bringing a bunch of brilliant yellow flowers to my mother. It didn’t matter that the stems felt sticky or that both my parents cursed the presence of these flowers in the lawn. I thought they were beautiful!

And there were so many of them! We spent hours picking the flowers and then popping the blossoms off with a snap of our fingers. But the supply of dandelions (蒲公英) never ran out. My father or brothers would chop off all the heads with the lawnmower at least once a week, but that didn’t stop these hardy wonders.

And for those flowers that escaped the honor of being hand-delivered to my mother or the sharp blades of the lawnmower, there was another level of existence. The soft roundness of a dandelion gone to seed caused endless laughter of delight as we unconsciously spread this flower across the yard.

As I worked in my garden last week, pulling unwanted weeds out of the space that would become a haven for tomatoes, corn, peas and sunflowers, I again marveled at the flower that some call a weed.

And I thought, if only I had the staying power of a dandelion. If only I could stretch my roots so deep and straight that something tugging on my stem couldn’t separate me completely from the source that feeds me life. If only I could come back to face the world with a bright, sunshiny face after someone has run me over with a lawnmower or worse, purposely attacked me in an attempt to destroy me. If only I could spread love and encouragement as freely and fully as this flower spreads seeds of itself.

The lawns at my parents’ home are now beautiful green blankets. The only patches of color come from well-placed, well-controlled flowerbeds. Chemicals have managed to kill what human interference couldn’t. Still, I hope you and I can be different. I hope that we can stretch our roots deep enough that the strongest poison can’t reach our souls. I hope that we can overcome the poisons of anger, fear, hate, criticism and competitiveness.

10 . The idea of climbing Mt.Qomolangma disgusted me. The mountain came to represent the opposite of everything that I loved and respected about climbing. What had once been the final mountain climbing goal became the focus of a commercial guiding industry. Over the years, the crowds at Base Camp grew, leaving behind tons of trash. Whenever I was asked whether I’d climb Mt.Qomolangma, my answer was always the same: not interested.

That was probably where my personal Mt. Qomolangma story would have ended, were it not for an old friend and his obsession (迷恋) with one of the greatest mysteries. In 1999, Thom Pollard began to explore and found the remains of George Mallory, the celebrated British climber who disappeared while he was attempting to be the first to climb Mt. Qomolangma. But Mallory’s partner, Sandy Irvine, and the camera he had likely carried, were not found. The mountain climbing world has been wondering whether they might have reached the top in 1924.

Pollard’s story moved me. I began to pack for the climb and expected that our advanced equipment would make it manageable, perhaps easy. I was wrong. On the highest point on the planet, I was more tired than I’d ever been in any climbing. Along the way, I continuously tipped_my_hat, not just to Mallory and Irvine but to anyone who has the drive to push himself or herself up this route. My search was in vain, but I began to reconsider Mt. Qomolangma.

I witnessed many climbers, who were much more than just self­centered tourists. We shared route information, weather forecasts, and family photos—all united around a common goal.

I went to Mt. Qomolangma to seek Irvine. But in the end, I found something more difficult to get: the spirit that Irvine and Mallory shared. It was hiding in plain sight, right where it has always been: inside the brave souls who risk so much to follow in storied adventurers’ footsteps up Mt. Qomolangma.