完形填空

    When I was eight, I wrote my first poem. My mother read and cried, “Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful poem!” Shyly, but1, I said yes. She poured out her 2.“It was nothing short of talent!”“What time will Father be home?” I asked. I could 3 wait to show my work to him. I spent quite some time 4 for his arrival. I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish(花体字), drew a fancy border around it and 5 I placed it right on my father's plate on the dining table. My father had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. I was sure he would be able to 6 my poem.

    At almost 7 o'clock my father burst in. He seemed 7. He circled the dining-room table, complaining about his employees. 8 he paused and glared at his plate. “What is this?” He's reaching for my poem. “Ben, Buddy has written his first poem!” my mother began. “And it's beautiful, absolutely amaze...” “If you don't mind, I'd like to decide for myself.” Father said. I 9 my head as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. Then I heard him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of 10. “I think it's terrible,” he said. I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting 11.

    “Ben, these are the first lines of poetry he's ever written,” my mother was saying. “He needs encouragement.” “I don't know why.” My father held his ground. “Isn't there enough 12 poetry in the world already?” I couldn't 13it another second. I ran from the dining room crying. Up in my room I 14 myself on the bed and cried the worst of the disappointment out of me.

    That may have been the end of the story, but not of its 15 for me. I realized how 16 I had been. I had a mother who said, “I think it's wonderful!” and a father who drove me to hear with “I think it's awful.” Every one of us needs that mother force, from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is 17. It needs the balance of the force that 18, “Watch. Listen. Review. Improve.”

    Those 19 voices of my childhood ring in my ears through the years, like two opposing winds blowing me. 20 the two poles of confirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.