On the tip of a tree which had lost all its other leaves, two still remained hanging from one branch: Ole and Trufa. For some reason unknown to them, Ole and Trufa had   36   all the rains and winds. But Ole and Trufa believed the answer  37  in the great love they bore one another. One leaf can do   38  for another when the wind blows, the rain pours.   39  , Ole encouraged Trufa at every opportunity.

At times during cold and stormy nights, Ole would 40 : “My time has come, Trufa, but you hang on!"

"What for?" Trufa asked. "Without you, my life is  41  . If you fall, I'll fall with you. "

One day just as Trufa spoke these words, what they two had   42  all these months happened―wind came up and tore Ole  43  from the branch. Soon Ole disappeared from sight and Trufa was left all alone on the tree.

As long as it was still day, Trufa managed somehow to  44  her sorrow. But when it grew dark and cold, she  45  despair. Somehow she felt that the blame for all the leafy  46  was laid on the tree. Leaves fell, but the trunk stood tall, and  47  rooted in the wood. No wind, or rain could  48  it.

One night, Trufa dozed off. The next morning, to her   49   , she found that she was no longer  50  on the tree. The wind had blown her down while she was asleep. She  51  now that she wasn't just a leaf that  52  the wind, but that she was  53 of the universe.

Next to her lay Ole, and they  54  each other with a love they hadn't been aware of before. This wasn't a love that depended on chance, but a love as powerful and   55  as the universe itself.

On the tip of a tree which had lost all its other leaves，two still remained hanging from one branch：Ole and Trufa．For some reason unknown to them，Ole and Trufa had __1__ all the rains and winds．But Ole and Trufa believed the answer __2__ in the great love they bore one another．One leaf can do __3__ for another when the wind blows，the rain pours．__4__，Ole encouraged Trufa at every opportunity．

At times during cold and stormy nights，Ole would __5__：“My time has come，Trufa，but you hang on!”

“What for?” Trufa asked．“Without you，my life is __6__．If you fall，I’ll fan with you．”

One day just as Trufa spoke these words，what they two had __7__ all these months happened--a wind came up and tore Ole __8__ from the branch．Soon Ole disappeared from sight and Trufa was left all alone on the tree．

As long as it was still day，Trufa managed somehow to __9__ her sorrow．But when it grew dark and cold，she __10__ despair．Somehow she felt that the blame for all the leafy __11__ was laid on the tree．Leaves fell，but the trunk stood tall，and _12__ rooted in the wood．No wind，or rain could __13__ it．

One night，Trufa dozed off．The next morning，to her __14__，she found that she was no longer __15__ on the tree．The wind had blown her down while she was asleep．She __16__ now that she wasn't just a leaf that __17__ the wind，but that she was __18__ of the universe．

Next to her lay Ole，and they __19__ each other with a love they hadn't been aware of before．This wasn't a love that depended on chance，but a love as powerful and __20__ as the universe itself．

1．A．suffered                B．survived               C．escaped                 D．avoided

2．A．resulted                 B．brought                C．lay                      D．came

3．A．little                      B．much                   C．favor                     D．few

4．A．But                       B．Still                     C．Though                  D．Otherwise

5．A．complain               B．say                      C．request                  D．announce

6．A．regretful                B．senseless              C．different                 D．happy

7．A．expected                B．intended               C．feared                    D．imagined

8．A．open                     B．active                  C．loose                     D．alive

9．A．appreciate              B．win                     C．afford                    D．bear

10．A．stepped into         B．caught in              C．took in                   D．sank into

11．A．fortunes               B．changes               C．misfortunes            D．chances

12．A．firmly                  B．slightly                 C．deeply                    D．tightly

13．A．upset                   B．blow                    C．touch                     D．make

14．A．delight                 B．amazement           C．disappointment       D．satisfaction

15．A．hanging               B．staying                 C．leaving                   D．sticking

16．A．thought                B．remembered           C．considered             D．knew

17．A．decided on           B．held on                C．concentrated on      D．depended on

18．A．some                   B．any                      C．part                       D．one

19．A．presented             B．treated                 C．provided                D．greeted

20．A．pure                    B．brief                    C．permanent              D．free

I was brought up by my grandparents for the first years of my life. We   36  in a very small community and all of my aunts and uncles lived   37_ . Everyone had a hand in taking care of my safety. Of course in those days   38  everyone in the community spoke the beautiful language of my childhood. When my grandfather spoke I would _ 39_ him carefully.
Then at age six my father   40  from the army. I was forbidden to speak that 41  ever again. My grandfather was   42  . He couldn’t speak English, so my grandmother would   43  for him whenever he spoke to me. With my mother and father we   44 from that small community. I was about to enter public school so I had to learn English. My grandfather   45  when I was eight and we returned to that small community for his funeral. He was   46  in the living room, as was the tradition. I went and stood by him and   47  no one was around I spoke to him in a whisper   48  that beautiful language of my childhood. That was the   49  time I spoke those words.
Almost fifty years later, _ 50 _ I had forgotten the beautiful language of my childhood, I had the opportunity to   51  a newly written paper of it. On my first look at it I recognized   52  . I must have looked it over several times in the following weeks. Then one day I read out loud a word from my past. I almost cried. I was   53 reading over other words. Words came   54  back to me after all these years. When receiving something from someone, you don’t take it from their hand, rather you let them lay it in your hand. For me it was   55  ---The beautiful language of my childhood was Michif. It was not only a language but also a way of life.

When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an exquisite(优美的，高雅的), hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Subdued(沉默的) for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.” 
And perhaps she wasn't saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.
【小题1】GG moved in with her daughter because ______.

When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.
“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an elegant, hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it. But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Silent for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.” 
And perhaps she wasn’t saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.
【小题1】GG moved in with her daughter because____.