A friend of mine was fond of drawing horse. He drew the horses very well, but he always began the tail. Now it is the Western rule to begin at the head of the horse, that is why I was surprised. It struck me that it could not really make any difference whether the artist begins at the head or the tail or the belly  or the foot of the horse, if he really knows his business. And most great artists who really know their business do not follow other people's rule. They make their own rules. Every one of them does his work in a way peculiar( ) to himself; and the peculiarity means only that he finds it more easy to work in that way. Now the very same thing is true to literature. And the question, "How shall I begin?" only means that you want to begin at the head instead of beginning at the tail or somewhere else. That is, you are not yet experienced enough to trust to your own powers. When you become more experienced you will never ask the question, and I think that you will often begin at the tail -- that is to say, you will write the end of the story before you have even thought of the beginning. A friend of the writer's drew the horses   _  . A) very well B) in the way of western rule C) in the way of his own rule D) all of the above
C

Late one morning in 20 1 2,headed for lunch in San Francisco,I drove towards one of the toll booths .I heard loud music.It sounded like a party,or a Michael Jackson concert.I looked around.No other cars with their windows open.I looked at the toll booth.Inside it,a young man was dancing. "What are you doing?"I asked. "I'm having a party,"he said. "What about the rest of the people?"I looked over at other booths:nothing moving there. "They're not invited." I had a dozen other questions for him,but somebody in a big hurry to get somewhere started punching his horn   behind me and I drove off.But I made a note to myself'.Find this guy again.There's something in his eyes that says there's magic in his toll booth. Months later I did find him again,still with the loud music,still having a party. Again I asked."What are you doing?" He said."I remember you from the last time.I'm still dancing.I'm having the same party." I said."Look.What about the rest of the people" He said."Stop.Do you see other people there?"He pointed down the row of toll booths."Everyday, they just get in the booths,stay for eight hours,do the same motions.Brain is on hold,dead on the job.But I am enjoying my life and I'm going to be a dancer someday." Sixteen people are dead on the j ob,and the seventeenth,in nearly the same situation,finds out another way to live.He and I did have lunch later, and he said. "I don't understand why anybody would think my job is boring.I have a comer office,glass on all sides.I can see the Golden Gate,San Francisco.the Berkeley hills.Half of the western people have vacations here while I can stay here every day and practise dancing for the future success.'' The writer heard music from   _  . A) his own car B) other cars C) a concert D) a toll booth
D

Long long ago, there was an old merchant who had three sons. "To which one shall I leave my fortune?" he wondered. "It must be to the cleverest son. But which one is the cleverest?" He called his three sons to him. "Here is some money," he told them, "you must each take one coin to buy something that will fill this room. Anyone who can do this shall have my fortune." "It is a big room," said the eldest son. "One coin will not buy very much," said the second son. But the youngest son said nothing. He stood and thought, and then he smiled, "Come, brothers," he said, "let us go to the market." The eldest son bought straw with his coin. But one coin bought only a bit of straw. Even when he had spread it as much as he could, the straw covered only a corner of the room. The second son bought sand with his coin. But one coin bought only a bit of sand. Even when he had spread it as much as he could, the sand covered only half of the floor. "What did you buy?" the eldest son angrily asked the youngest son. "You don't have any straw." "Yes, what did you buy?" the second son asked angrily. "You don't have any sand." "I bought this," said the youngest son. "A candle!" cried his brothers. "What good is a candle?" "Watch", said the youngest son. He lit the candle, and all at once the room was filled from wall to wall, from ceiling to floor. It was filled with light! "Although you are the youngest, you are indeed the cleverest of my sons," the old merchant said. And that is how, the old merchant left his fortune to his youngest son, the one who could fill a room with light. Who would get father's fortune? A) The oldest son. B) The richest son. C) The cleverest son. D) The silliest son.

C