| 完形填空。 | ||||
| I used to find notes left in the collection basket of the church; beautiful notes about my homilies(布道) and about the writer's thoughts on the daily readings. The 1 fascinated(吸引) me. But it was a long time 2 I met the author of the notes. One Sunday morning, I was told someone was 3 for me in the office, a young woman who said she 4 all the notes. When I saw her I was 5 , since I had no idea that it was she who wrote the notes. She was sitting in a chair in the office. Her head was 6 and when she raised it to look at me, she could barely 7 without pain. Her face was disfigured(畸形), so smiling was very 8 for her. We 9 for a while that Sunday morning and agreed to meet for lunch later that week. As it 10 we went to lunch several times, and we shared things about our 11 . We spoke of authors we both had 12 , and it was easy to tell that 13 were a great love of hers. She suffered from a disfigurement that cannot be made to look 14 . I know that her condition 15 her deeply. Yet there was a beauty in her that had 16 to do with looks. She was one to be listened to, whose words came from a wounded but 17 heart. She possessed a fine-tuned sense of beauty. Her only 18 in life was the loss of a friend. The truth of her life was a desire to see 19 the surface for a glimpse of what it is that matters. She found beauty and 20 and they befriended her, and showed her what is real. | ||||
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