Like most people these days，I can't imagine life without e-mail. But there's something about a letter，something more personal，more meaningful.

During my freshman year of college I was _____ . I loved to sing，and I was cast as the lead in the fresh play. The _____ didn't allow much time for studying，and then there were _____ to make and parties to go to. _____ my straight A average in high school，I didn't have good study habits. My first college report card _____ it. I sat on my dorm-room bed，staring at C's and D's.

I knew my parents had gotten a copy of my _____. My mother was an advocate for women's education. My dad ran his own business and was a leader of the community. They'd been so _____ I was following in their footsteps. I could have called home，but long-distance calls were expensive then. _____ ，telling my parents“I'm so sorry I've disappointed you”hardly seemed _____ .

I got two letters from the student union. My dad's letter was typed on his business paper. I could hear his voice，quiet，______ and kind.“I understand you are struggling. We have all been there. We all fail sometimes. We ______ ourselves and our family. ______ those who deserve to be at the top, when they fail, get right back up to the top again. And I know you will.”Dad wasn't ______ of me. He believed I could succeed. If only I had believed in myself as he did!

Then I opened the envelope from Mom. As I read, the miles between us disappeared and her words went straight to my _____ “I suspect you are ______ burdens. Perhaps you feel guilty about ______ that you are not proud of. This is the time when everything we' ve taught you — persistence, forgiveness and diligence — will ______ .”

I did, often. College got much better. My grades ______ . I joined a group that sang at dinners and concerts.

A letter can change the ______ . The message is simple and true: letters can touch our lives mysteriously and ______ .

   Next week, strangers with a truck will take away everything we own, except the clothes on our backs, the car we will drive, and as much stuff as we can pack into it. It's called moving. Some people do it often. For others, like me, it's a rare experience. In all my adult years, I've moved only three times.

My first husband and I moved into our first house with a bed, our clothes and a few gifts. That was a lifetime ago. Over the years, I filled that house with three children, a few dogs and enough stuff to reach the ceiling.

When the kids grew up, I lost my husband to cancer, and I began to learn about letting go. First, I let go of the idea of being in control. Life isn’t about being in charge of what happens; it's about being in charge of what we do with it. Next, I let go of putting off the things I care most about, like keeping in touch with the people that mean the most to me. I let go of the people whose lives are about anger or hatred, and tried instead to surround myself with those who shine with kindness. Finally, I let go of being alone---I remarried. I eventually moved to a new city with my new husband, and after that move, I promised I'd stop collecting meaningless things. But 12 years later, here I am, still learning about letting go.

Yesterday, while cleaning out a dresser, I found a box filled with old keepsakes. Nothing in that box may mean much to anyone, except me. They are treasures for me because of the memories they preserve. We finally decided to keep them, hold them close and never let them go. We’ll all move someday from this world to the next, but we won't need a truck to do it. We'll take nothing with us and leave behind a memory of the life we lived, the mistakes we made, and all the love and kindness we tried to show. That memory might not be a treasure, but if we're lucky, someone will keep it and hold it close and never let it go.

   I was attending a party one night given in Sir Ross's honor. During the dinner, the man sitting next to me told a humorous story and spoke of the quotation:“There's a divinity（神）that shapes our ends, /Rough-hew them how we will. ”

The storyteller mentioned that the quotation was from the Bible. He was wrong. I knew that； I knew it positively. There couldn't be the slightest doubt about it. And so, to get a feeling of importance and show my high quality, I chose myself as an unwelcome person to correct him. He stuck to his guns. “What? From Shakespeare? Impossible! Absurd ! That quotation was from the Bible. ”

The storyteller was sitting at my right hand, and Frank Gammond, an old friend of mine, was seated at my left hand. Mr. Gammond had devoted years to the study of Shakespeare, so the storyteller and I agreed to leave the question to Mr. Gammond. Mr. Gammond listened, kicked me under the table, and then said ,“Dale, you are wrong. The gentleman is right. It is from the Bible. ”

On our way home that night, I said to Mr. Gammond,“Frank, you knew that quotation was from Shakespeare. ”

“Yes, of course,”he replied. “Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2. But we were guests on a festive occasion, my dear Dale. Why prove to a man he is wrong? Is that going to make him like you? Why not let him save his face? He didn't ask for your opinion. He didn't want it. Why argue with him?”The man who said that taught me a lesson I would never forget. I not only had made the storyteller uncomfortable, but had put my friend in an embarrassing situation. How much better it would have been if I hadn't become argumentative.

Nine times out of ten, an argument ends with each of the contestants（竞争者）more firmly convinced than ever that he is absolutely right. You can't win an argument. You can't because if you lose it, you lose it； and if you win it, you lose it.