The sun shone in through the dining room window,lighting up the hardwood floor. We had been talking there for nearly two hours.The phone of the“Nightline”rang yet again and Morrie asked his helper.Connie,to get it .She had been taking down the callers’names in Morrie’s small black appointment book .It was clear 1 was not the only one interested in visiting my old professor—the“Nightline”appearance had made him something of a big figure—but I was impressed with.perhaps even a bit envious of,all the friends that Morrie seemed to have
“You know.Mitch,now that I'm dying,I've become much more interesting to people.I’m on the last great journey here——and people want me to tell them what to pack.”
The phone rang again.
“Morrie,can you talk?”Connie asked .
“I’m visiting with my old friend now,”he announced.“Let them call back.”
I cannot tell you why he received me so warmly.I was hardly the promising student who had left him sixteen years earlier.Had it not been for“Nightline,”Morrie might have died without ever seeing me again.
What happened to me?
The eighties happened .The nineties happened.Death and sickness and getting fat and going bald happened.I traded lots of dreams for a bigger paycheck,and I never even realized I was doing it .Yet here was Morrie talking with the wonder of our college years,as if I'd simply been on a long vacation
“Have you found someone to share your heart with?” he asked .
“Are you at peace with yourself?”
“Are you trying to be as human as you can be?”
I felt ashamed,wanting to show I had been trying hard to work out such questions.What
happened to me? I once promised myself I would never work for money,that I would join the
Peace Corps,and that 1 would w*w^w.k&s#5@u.c~o*mlive in beautiful,inspirational places.
Instead, I had been in Detroit for ten years,at the same workplace,using the same bank,visiting the same barber .I was thirty-seven,more mature than in college,tied to computers and modems and cell phones.I was no longer young,nor did I walk around in gray sweatshirts with unlit cigarettes in my mouth.I did not have long discussions over egg salad sandwiches about the meaning of life.
My days were full,yet I remained,much of the time,unsatisfied .
What happened to me?
56.When did the author graduate from Morrie’s college?
A.In the eighties.                             B.In the nineties.
C.When he was sixteen                          D.When he was twenty-one.
57.What do we know about the“Nightline”?
A.Morrie started it by himself          B.It helped Morrie earn a fame.
C.The author helped Morrie start it.           D.It was only operated at night.
58.What can we infer from the passage?
A.Both the author and Morrie liked travelling.
B.Morrie liked helping people pack things for their journeys.
C.The author envied Morrie’s friends the help they got from him.
D.The author earned a lot of money at the cost of his dreams.
59.What’s the author’s feeling when he writes this passage?
A.Regretful.      B.Enthusiastic.      C.Sympathetic.       D.Humorous.


I have found that the way I treat insects acts as a reflection of my approach to kindness.  Like most kids, I suppose, I mistreated bugs terribly. But many adults continue the rampage against insects, and I have often found that they do this mindlessly.
With the weather getting warmer, more bugs are getting into our houses.  We also spend more time in "their house," as we enjoy the great outdoors.  We find ourselves reaching for the fly swatter and insecticides(杀虫剂)to get rid of them.  But why do we do this?  Most insects pose no threat to us, but we kill them anyway.
As a young adult, I found myself questioning my treatment of bugs.  It became a moral issue.  I remember reading a Native American story about a mother who saw her daughter stomp on a spider.  The mom simply asks the child: "Now who'll take care of that spider's children?  Who would take care of you if someone killed me?" It became a powerful lesson to the child.
All creatures have a purpose, and our world would be terribly out of balance without insects.  If we can treat them with kindness and respect, we can treat any creature that way.  The more I learned about the unique behaviors and purposes of insects, the more I appreciated their place in the world.  I have literally become someone who "wouldn't hurt a fly."
The more I have practiced, the better I've become at catching flies with my hand and escorting them back outside. I use a small glass with a thin piece of cardboard to catch spiders, ants, and bees, and release them where they'll be happier--outdoors. Sure it takes more work than just squishing them, but I feel more in harmony with nature by being kind to bugs. If we could model that for our kids, perhaps they'd grow up to be kinder adults and help make this a kinder world to live in.
49.According to the author, many adults kill bugs ___________.
A.because they hate bugs    B.to stop bugs spread diseases
C.just out of their cruelty    D.just for no special reason
50.The author mentions a Native American story in the third paragraph in order to___________.
A.tell readers the importance of protecting insects
B.show its deep influence on the author
C.appeal to readers to look after spiders’ children
D.describe American mother’s kindness to insects
51.Suppose a bug appears in the author’s room, he will probably___________.
A.kill it without hesitation    B.catch it and free it outside
C.drive it outside tenderly     D.let it be and not disturb it
52.Which of the following would be the best title of the passage?
A.Showing kindness to insects    B.My childhood and insects
C.The significance of insets      D.Some tips of treating insects

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