In a small house outside London lives an old man. People often see him look his flowers in his garden all the time.
One day, a young painter (go) by the old man's house. He looked at the nice garden and the special room, picturing how happy he would be if he lived in such a (beauty) place. Suddenly he found the old gardener (terrible) blind. Shocked, he walked to the old man and asked, "Why are you taking care of the flowers every day which you can't see in fact?" The old man smiled, "I can tell you four reasons. First, I was a gardener when I was young and I really love this job. Second, although I can't see these flowers, I can touch them. Third, I can smell the (sweet) of them. As to the last, it's you."
"Me? But you don't know me," answered the painter, still puzzled.
"Yeah, it's true that I don't know you. I know flowers are gifts which everyone loves. And the beauty of my garden will get many people into a good mood," answered the old man.
The words of the gardener warmed the painter with (please). He looked after the flowers (make) others enjoy the warm sunshine in spring. He can't see the beautiful flowers he planted, just like Beethoven, who can't hear his wonderful music
The old man is alone but not lonely. All of his flowers are his friends and neighbours. They (grow) in his heart.
