I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as Mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.

Years later，during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk”, she said, “is for Elizabeth”.

I never saw her angry， never saw her cry. I knew she loved me, she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.

They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional”. But she lived “on the surface”.

As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.

I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.

My hope turned to disappointment，then little interest, finally, peace——it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn‘t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it， and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.

Now the present of her desk told me, as she‘d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work, I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside—a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times.

Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.

The passage shows that__________.

A. Mother wrote her daughter in careful words

B. Mother cared much about her daughter in words

C. Mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done

D. Mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter

 The word “gulf” in the passage means________.

A. part of the sea going far in land

B. free talks between mother and daughter

C. different ideas between the mother and the daughter

D. deep understanding between the old and the young

What did Mother do with her daughter‘s letter asking for forgiveness？

A. She had never received the letter.

B. She read the letter again and till she died.

C. For years, she often talked about the letter.

D. She didn‘t forgive her daughter at all in her life.

What‘s the best title of the passage？

A. My letter to Mother    B. Mother and Children

C. My Mother‘s Desk      D. Talks between Mother and Me

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.

Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she said again, “is for Elizabeth.”

I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.

They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.

As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.

I posted the letter and waited for her answer, none came.

My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace. It seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.

Now the present of her desk told me that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work though she’d never been able to. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside — a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折叠) and refolded many times.

Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.

The writer began to love her mother’s desk _______.

A. after Mother died          B. before she became a writer 

C. when she was a child       D. when mother gave it to her

The passage shows that _______.

A. Mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter

B. Mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done

C. Mother cared much about her daughter in words

D. Mother wrote to her daughter in careful words.

The world “gulf” in the passage means _______.

A. deep understanding between the old and the young.

B. different ideas between the mother and the daughter.

C. free talks between mother and daughter.    

D. part of the sea going far in land.

What did Mother do with her daughter’s letter asking for forgiveness?

A. She had never received the letter.           

B. For years, she often talked about the letter.

C. She didn’t forgive her daughter at all in all her life.   

D. She read the letter again and again till she died.

What’s the best title of the passage?

A. My letter to Mother          B. Mother and Children

C. My Mother’s Desk           D. Talks between Mother and me.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pen, and white paper, I decided that the act of   1 must be the most   2  thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother   3  different things for my sister and brother. “But the  4 ”, she said, “is for Elizabeth”.
I never saw her angry, and never saw her cry. I knew she  5    me, she showed it in action. But   6  a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks   7  mother and daughter. They never happened. And a gulf (深渊) opened between us. I was “too emotional”.    8  she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed and I graduated from college, I loved my mother and I wrote to her in 9  words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did   10  me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer.   11  came. My hope turned to   12 , then little interest, finally, peace --- it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the   13  had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could    14  trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the   15  of her desk told me, as she’d   16  been able to, that she was   17  that writing was my chosen work. I   18  the desk carefully and found some papers   19 --- a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times.
“Give me an answer”, my letter asks, “in any way you chose”. Mother, you always chose the   20  that speaks louder than words.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as Mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk”, she said, “is for Elizabeth”.
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me, she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional”. But she lived “on the surface”
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment，then little interest, finally, peace---it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work, I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside---a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(被折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
81. The writer began to love her mother’s desk________.
A. after Mother died        B. before she became a writer
C. when she was a child       D. when Mother gave it to her
82. The passage shows that__________.
A. Mother wrote her daughter in careful words
B. Mother cared much about her daughter in words
C. Mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done
D. Mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter
83. The word “gulf” in the passage means________.
A. part of the sea going far in land
B. free talks between mother and daughter
C. different ideas between the mother and the daughter
D. deep understanding between the old and the young
84. What did Mother do with her daughter’s letter asking for forgiveness?
A. She had never received the letter.     
B. She read the letter again and again till she died.
C. For years, she often talked about the letter.
D. She didn’t forgive her daughter at all in her life.
85. What’s the best title of the passage?
A. My letter to Mother       B. Mother and Children
C. My Mother’s Desk        D. Talks between Mother and Me

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as Mother sat doing letters(学问). Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk”, she said again, “is for Elizabeth.” I never saw her anger, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was too emotional. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed, I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive（原谅）me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written in, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside－a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you chose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk _______.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens,   and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister  and brother. “But the desk,” she’d said again, “it’s for Elizabeth. ”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and    daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface(表面)”.
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive(原谅) me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment(失望), then little interest and, finally, peace— it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she’d never been able to, that she was    pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found    some papers inside —a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk ______.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she’d said again, “it’s for Elizabeth.”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace— it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside —a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The passage shows that ______.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she said again, “is for Elizabeth.”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer, none came.
My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace. It seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work though she’d never been able to. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside — a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk _______.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top
of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she said again, “is for Elizabeth.”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer, none came.
My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside — a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk _______.

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she said again, “is for Elizabeth.”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional (易动感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer, none came.
My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside — a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded (折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小题1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk _______.