Just for today 只为今天

就为了今天，我会很快乐；就为了今天，我将磨练自己的意志；就为了今天，我会制定一个计划……
昨天，今天，明天， 也许选择今天最为明智。昨天已经过去，明天还未到来，唯有把握每一个今天，笑对今天，才是人生之一大真谛。

Just for today I will try to live through this day only and not tackle my whole life problem at once. I can do something for twelve hours that would appall me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.

Just for today I will be happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be."

Just for today I will adjust myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires. I will take my "luck" as it comes.

Just for today I will try to strengthen my mind. I will study. I will learn something useful. I will not be a mental loafer. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration.

Just for today I will exercise my soul in three ways. I will do somebody a good turn and not get found out: If anybody knows of it, it will not count. I will do at least two things I don't want to do-just for exercise. I will not show anyone that my feelings are hurt: they may be hurt, but today I will not show it.

Just for today I will be agreeable. I will look as well as I can, dress becomingly, talk low, act courteously, criticize not one bit, and try not to improve or regulate anybody but myself.

Just for today I will have a program, I may not follow it exactly, but I will have it. I will save myself from two pests: hurry and indecision.

Just for today I will have a quiet half hour all by myself and relax. During this half hour, sometime, I will try to get a better perspective of my life.

Just for today I will be unafraid. Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful, and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to me.

做自己的朋友

Friendship with oneself is all important, because without it one cannot be friends with anyone else in the world.- Eleanor Roosevelt

We often focus on building relationships with others that we forget the essential first step: being friends of ourselves. That is the crucial first step if we are to have good relationships with others. How can we have good relationships with others if we don't even have good relationship with ourselves?

The problem might be worse than we expect. Maybe we don't like ourselves without realizing it. Here is a simple checklist; is there anything you don't like about yourself from these list?

Your past

Maybe you have made mistakes in the past which you feel bad about. You might be disappointed with yourself on why you could make such mistakes. Even if that happened in distant past, your subconscious mind still has a reason not to like yourself.

Your background

You might wish that you were born in different family, or that you have different background. Maybe you could not accept the fact that you are not as lucky as others, who seem to get whatever they want effortlessly because of their background.

Your personality traits

You might have some personality traits that you don't like. For example, you may be an introvert and you don't like it; you wish you are an extrovert.

Your achievements relative to others Others might have better achievements than you, and no matter how hard you tried, it might seem impossible for you to match them. You might then think that it's because you are not smart enough or don't have enough talents. Is there anything that resonate with you? All these give reasons to you not to like yourself. That in turn makes it difficult for you to be a good friend to yourself.

Fortunately, there are always things you can do to fix the situation. Here are some tips:

1. Forgive yourself

You may have made those mistakes in the past, but is there anything you can do about them? I don't think so, except learning from them. It's true that you are not perfect, but neither is everybody else. It’s normal to make mistakes, so do yourself a favor by giving yourself forgiveness.

2. Accept things you can't change

There are some things you cannot change, such as your background and your past. So learn to accept them. You will feel much relieved if you treat things you can’t change the way they deserve: just accept them, smile, and move on.

3. Focus on your strengths

Instead of focusing on your weaknesses, focus on your strengths. You always have some strengths which give you a unique combination nobody else have. Recognize your strengths and build your life around them.

Health Top Tips Nutrition Lifestyle

4. Write your success stories

One reason we may not like ourselves is we are too focused on what we don’t have that we forget about what we have. So make a list of your achievements; write your success stories. They do not have to be big things; there are a lot of small but important achievements in our life. For example, if you have some good friends, that’s already an achievement. If you have a good family, that is also an achievement.

5. Stop comparing yourself with others

You are unique. You can never be like other people, and neither can other people be like you. The way you measure your success is not determined by other people and what they achieve. Instead, it is determined by your own life purpose. You have everything you need to achieve your life purpose, so it's useless to compare yourself with others.

6. Always be true to yourself

You don't like other people lying to you, right? Similarly, you won't like yourself if you know that you lie to yourself. Whether you realize it or not, that gives your mind a reason not to like yourself. That’s why it's important to always be true to yourself. In whatever you do, be honest and follow your conscience. Remember this quote by Abraham Lincoln:

I desire so to conduct the affairs of this administration that if at the end . . . I have lost every other friend on earth, I shall at least have one friend left, and that friend shall be down inside of me.

人一生的爱

It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return. But what is more painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let that person know how you feel.

A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it was never meant to be and you just have to let go.

The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.

It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.

It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone- but it takes a lifetime to forget someone. Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth, even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright.

Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.

Always put yourself in the other's shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the person too.

A careless word may kindle strife; a cruel word may wreck a life; a timely word may level stress; a loving word may heal and bless.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, ends with a tear. When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one smiling and everyone around you is crying.

一名非洲儿童写的诗

When I born, I black

When I grow up, I black

When I go in Sun, I black

When I scared, I black

When I sick, I black

And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow

When you born, you pink

When you grow up, you white

When you go in sun, you red

When you cold, you blue

When you scared, you yellow

When you sick, you green

And when you die, you gray

And you calling me coloured?

装满吻的空盒子

Once upon a time, a man punished his 5-year-old daughter for using up the family's only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper. Money was tight, and he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve, he saw that the child had pasted the gold paper so as to decorate a shoebox to put under the Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, "This is for you, Daddy!"

As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction.

But when he opened it, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. "Don't you know, young lady, " he said harshly, "when you give someone a present there's supposed to be something inside the package!"

The little girl looked up at him with tears rolling from her eyes and said: "Daddy, it's not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full."

The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.

An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept that little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.

In a very real sense, each of us as human beings have been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God.

There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

奥黛丽·赫本的遗言

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

若要优美的嘴唇，要说友善的话；

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

若要可爱的眼睛，要看到别人的好处；

For a slim figure, share your foodwith the hungry.

若要苗条的身材，把你的食物分给饥饿的人；

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.

美丽的秀发，在于每天有孩子的手指穿过它；

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

若要优雅的姿态，要记住行人不只你一个。

People, even more than things, have to be restored, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

人之所以为人，是应该充满精力、能够自我悔改、自我反省、自我成长，而不是抱怨他人。

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find them at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.

如果你需要一只援助之手，你可以在自己的任何一只手臂下找到；随着年龄的增长，你会发现你有两只手，一只用来帮助自己，另一只用来帮助别人。

A Pair of Socks一双袜子

一个晴朗的下午，我在第五大街上闲逛，忽然想起要买双袜子。我拐进印入眼帘的第一家袜店，一个不到17岁的伙计迎上来说：“先生,我能为您效劳吗？” “我想买双短袜。” 他的双眼充满了热情，说话的声音也饱含着激情：“您知道吗？您来到了世界上最好的袜店！”可我并没意识到这一点。 “随我来，”男孩欣喜若狂地说。我跟着他往里走。他开始从货架上拿下一个又一个盒子，向我展示里面的袜子，让我欣赏……

One fine afternoon I was walking along Fifth Avenue, when I remembered that it was necessary to buy a pair of socks. I turned into the first sock shop that caught my eye, and a boy clerk who could not have been more than seventeen years old came forward. "What can I do for you, sir?" "I wish to buy a pair of socks." His eyes glowed. There was a note of passion in his voice. "Did you know that you had come into the finest place in the world to buy socks?" I had not been aware of that, as my entrance had been accidental. "Come with me," said the boy, ecstatically. I followed him to the rear of the shop, and he began to haul down from the shelves box after box, displaying their contents for my delectation.

"Hold on, lad, I am going to buy only one pair!" "I know that," said he, "but I want you to see how marvelously beautiful these are. Aren't they wonderful?" There was on his face an expression of solemn and holy rapture, as if he were revealing to me the mysteries of his religion. I became far more interested in him than in the socks. I looked at him in amazement. "My friend," said I, "if you can keep this up, if this is not merely the enthusiasm that comes from novelty, from having a new job, if you can keep up this zeal and excitement day after day, in ten years you will own every sock in the United States."

My amazement at his pride and joy in salesmanship will be easily understood by all who read this article. In many shops the customer has to wait for someone to wait upon him. And when finally some clerk does deign to notice you, you are made to feel as if you were interrupting him. Either he is absorbed in profound thought in which he hates to be disturbed or he is skylarking with a girl clerk and you feel like apologizing for thrusting yourself into such intimacy.

He displays no interest either in you or in the goods he is paid to sell. Yet possibly that very clerk who is now so apathetic began his career with hope and enthusiasm. The daily grind was too much for him; the novelty wore off; his only pleasures were found outside of working hours. He became a mechanical, not inspired, salesman. After being mechanical, he became incompetent; then he saw younger clerks who had more zest in their work, promoted over him. He became sour. That was the last stage. His usefulness was over.

I have observed this melancholy decline in the lives of so many men in so many occupations that I have come to the conclusion that the surest road to failure is to do things mechanically. There are many teachers in schools and colleges who seem duller than the dullest of their pupils; they go through the motions of teaching, but they are as impersonal as a telephone.

One Finger 一个手指

"Mom, you should put some of your things away. Baby proof this house," stated our oldest son Mark as he lumbered up the stairs followed by his wife, Kim, and fifteen－month－old Hannah.
Visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday, he finished unloading the luggage and took it to the guestroom downstairs. After driving all day from Salt Lake to Ft. Collins, his temper showed. "That one finger rule may work with the twins, but it'll never work with Hannah, " he insisted.

When my three granddaughters were born four months apart and the twins moved into our house at eight months, my close friend offered me her secret to entertaining grandchildren with few mishaps. "Teach them the 'one finger rule'." All of her five grandchildren learned it at a young age. The success of the method surprised me.

I picked up my granddaughter and said, "Well, Mark, you just watch." I hugged her and walked all around the great room.

"Hannah, you may touch anything in this room you want. But, you can only use one finger." I demonstrated the technique by touching my forefinger to the African sculpture on the mantle. Hannah followed my example. "Good girl. Now what else would you like to touch？"

She stretched her finger toward another object on the mantle. I allowed her to touch everything in sight, plants, glass objects, TV, VCR, lamps, speakers, candles and artificial flowers. If she started to grab, I gently reminded her to use one finger. She always obeyed. But, Hannah, an only child, possessed a more adventur ous personality. Her father predicted it would prevent her from accepting the"one finger"rule.

During their four-day stay, we aided Hannah in remembering"one finger"rule. She learned quickly. I only put away the things that might prove to be a danger to a child. Otherwise, we watched her closely and nothing appeared to suffer any damage. Besides, "things"can be replaced.

A few fingerprints on glass doors, windows and tables remained after Hannah and her family returned home. I couldn't bring myself to clean them for days. Each one reminded me of some wonderful experience with Hannah.

Months later, my husband and I drove to Salt Lake; I watched Mark and Kim continue to practice the one finger rule. But I refrained from saying, "I told you so." Yet, I smiled inwardly each time they prodded Hannah to touch with "one finger. " Mark, a salesman, always gave a packet of gifts to his potential clients. The night before we returned home, Mark sat on the floor stuffing gifts into their packets. Hannah helped.

Then she picked up one gift, held it in her hand as if it were a fragile bird, and walked toward me. At my knee, her beautiful blue eyes looked into mine. She stretched her prize to me and said, "One finger, Nana!"

Hanover Square 追忆似水年华

Can it really be sixty-two years ago that I first saw you?

It is truly a lifetime, I know. But as I gaze into your eyes now, it seems like only yesterday that I first saw you, in that small café in Hanover Square.

From the moment I saw you smile, as you opened the door for that young mother and her newborn baby. I knew. I knew that I wanted to share the rest of my life with you.

I still think of how foolish I must have looked, as I gazed at you, that first time. I remember watching you intently, as you took off your hat and loosely shook your short dark hair with your fingers. I felt myself becoming immersed in your every detail, as you placed your hat on the table and cupped your hands around the hot cup of tea, gently blowing the steam away with your pouted lips.

From that moment, everything seemed to make perfect sense to me. The people in the café and the busy street outside all disappeared into a hazy blur. All I could see was you.

All through my life I have relived that very first day. Many, many times I have sat and thought about that the first day, and how for a few fleeting moments I am there, feeling again what is like to know true love for the very first time. It pleases me that I can still have those feelings now after all those years, and I know I will always have them to comfort me.

Not even as I shook and trembled uncontrollably in the trenches, did I forget your face. I would sit huddled into the wet mud, terrified, as the hails of bullets and mortars crashed down around me. I would clutch my rifle tightly to my heart, and think again of that very first day we met. I would cry out in fear, as the noise of war beat down around me. But, as I thought of you and saw you smiling back at me, everything around me would be become silent, and I would be with you again for a few precious moments, far from the death and destruction. It would not be until I opened my eyes once again, that I would see and hear the carnage of the war around me.

I cannot tell you how strong my love for you was back then, when I returned to you on leave in the September, feeling battered, bruised and fragile. We held each other so tight I thought we would burst. I asked you to marry me the very same day and I whooped with joy when you looked deep into my eyes and said "yes" to being my bride.

I'm looking at our wedding photo now, the one on our dressing table, next to your jewellery box. I think of how young and innocent we were back then. I remember being on the church steps grinning like a Cheshire cat, when you said how dashing and handsome I looked in my uniform. The photo is old and faded now, but when I look at it, I only see the bright vibrant colors of our youth. I can still remember every detail of the pretty wedding dress your mother made for you, with its fine delicate lace and pretty pearls. If I concentrate hard enough, I can smell the sweetness of your wedding bouquet as you held it so proudly for everyone to see.

I remember being so over enjoyed, when a year later, you gently held my hand to your waist and whispered in my ear that we were going to be a family.

I know both our children love you dearly; they are outside the door now, waiting.

Do you remember how I panicked like a mad man when Jonathon was born? I can still picture you laughing and smiling at me now, as I clumsily held him for the very first time in my arms. I watched as your laughter faded into tears, as I stared at him and cried my own tears of joy.

Sarah and Tom arrived this morning with little Tessie. Can you remember how we both hugged each other tightly when we saw our tiny granddaughter for the first time? I can't believe she will be eight next month. I am trying not to cry, my love, as I tell you how beautiful she looks today in her pretty dress and red shiny shoes, she reminds me so much of you that first day we met. She has her hair cut short now, just like yours was all those years ago. When I met her at the door her smile wrapped around me like a warm glove, just like yours used to do, my darling.

I know you are tired, my dear, and I must let you go. But I love you so much it hurts to do so.

As we grew old together, I would tease you that you had not changed since we first met. But it is true, my darling. I do not see the wrinkles and grey hair that other people see. When I look at you now, I only see your sweet tender lips and youthful sparkling eyes as we sat and had our first picnic next to that small stream, and chased each other around that big old oak tree. I remember wishing those first few days together would last forever. Do you remember how exciting and wonderful those days were?

I must go now, my darling. Our children are waiting outside. They want to say goodbye to you.

你是我心中最美

To someone who is beautiful... all over

It is absolutely wonderful to have
someone in your life who is caring
and giving and gracious — some whose
smiles are live sunshine and laughter
and whose words always seem to say
the things you most like to hear...
because those magical people are really
beautiful... inside.


And it is a special privilege to
know someone whose outward appearance
is a delight just to see — someone who
lights up a room with radiance and
who lights up my little corner of the
world with a loveliness it has never
known before... because special people
like that are really beautiful... outside.


But most of all, it is one of the
world's most special blessings to
have a person in your life who can
add so much pleasure and such magnificence
to the days — as you have to mine...
because you're someone who is beautiful...
all over.

All Mum's letters 家书

To this day I remember my mum's letters. It all started in December 1941. Every night she sat at the big table in the kitchen and wrote to my brother Johnny, who had been drafted that summer. We had not heard from him since the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

I didn't understand why my mum kept writing Johnny when he never wrote back.

"Wait and see-we'll get a letter from him one day," she claimed. Mum said that there was a direct link from the brain to the written word that was just as strong as the light God has granted us. She trusted that this light would find Johnny.

I don't know if she said that to calm herself, dad or all of us down. But I do know that it helped us stick together, and one day a letter really did arrive. Johnny was alive on an island in the Pacific.

I had always been amused by the fact that mum signed her letters, "Cecilia Capuzzi", and I teased her about that. "Why don't you just write 'Mum'?" I said.

I hadn't been aware that she always thought of herself as Cecilia Capuzzi. Not as Mum. I began seeing her in a new light, this small delicate woman, who even in high-heeled shoes was barely one and a half meters tall.

She never wore make-up or jewelry except for a wedding ring of gold. Her hair was fine, sleek and black and always put up in a knot in the neck. She wouldn't hear of getting a haircut or a perm. Her small silver-rimmed pince-nez only left her nose when she went to bed.

Whenever mum had finished a letter, she gave it to dad for him to post it. Then she put the water on to boil, and we sat down at the table and talked about the good old days when our Italian-American family had been a family of ten: mum, dad and eight children. Five boys and three girls. It is hard to understand that they had all moved away from home to work, enroll in the army, or get married. All except me.

Around next spring mum had got two more sons to write to. Every evening she wrote three different letters which she gave to me and dad afterwards so we could add our greetings.

Little by little the rumour about mum's letters spread. One day a small woman knocked at our door. Her voice trembled as she asked: "Is it true you write letters?"

"I write to my sons."

"And you can read too?" whispered the woman.

"Sure."

The woman opened her bag and pulled out a pile of airmail letters. "Read… please read them aloud to me."

The letters were from the woman's son who was a soldier in Europe, a red-haired boy who mum remembered having seen sitting with his brothers on the stairs in front of our house. Mum read the letters one by one and translated them from English to Italian. The woman's eyes welled up with tears. "Now I have to write to him," she said. But how was she going to do it?

"Make some coffee, Octavia," mum yelled to me in the living room while she took the woman with her into the kitchen and seated her at the table. She took the fountain pen, ink and air mail notepaper and began to write. When she had finished, she read the letter aloud to the woman.

"How did you know that was exactly what I wanted to say?"

"I often sit and look at my boys' letters, just like you, without a clue about what to write."

A few days later the woman returned with a friend, then another one and yet another one--they all had sons who fought in the war, and they all needed letters. Mum had become the correspondent in our part of town. Sometimes she would write letters all day long.

Mum always insisted that people signed their own letters, and the small woman with the grey hair asked mum to teach her how to do it. "I so much want to be able to write my own name so that my son can see it." Then mum held the woman's hand in hers and moved her hand over the paper again and again until she was able to do it without her help.

After that day, when mum had written a letter for the woman, she signed it herself, and her face brightened up in a smile.

One day she came to us, and mum instantly knew what had happened. All hope had disappeared from her eyes. They stood hand in hand for a long time without saying a word. Then mum said: "We better go to church. There are certain things in life so great that we cannot comprehend them." When mum came back home, she couldn't get the red-haired boy out of her mind.

After the war was over, mum put away the pen and paper. "Finito," she said. But she was wrong. The women who had come to her for help in writing to their sons now came to her with letters from their relatives in Italy. They also came to ask her for her help in getting American citizenship.

On one occasion mum admitted that she had always had a secret dream of writing a novel. "Why didn't you?" I asked.

"All people in this world are here with one particular purpose," she said. "Apparently, mine is to write letters." She tried to explain why it absorbed her so.

"A letter unites people like nothing else. It can make them cry, it can make them laugh. There is no caress more lovely and warm than a love letter, because it makes the world seem very small, and both sender and receiver become like kings in their own kingdoms. My dear, a letter is life itself!"

Today all mum's letters are lost. But those who got them still talk about her and cherish the memory of her letters in their hearts.

A Funny Memory 童真记趣

Oh God! I think I was about seven and half when my sisters and I pulled this stupid stunt. I remember watching television with them and the show on happened to be our favorite program to watch. All of a sudden we heard my brother, Chris, yelling from the backyard. So we all headed out there to see what happened. When we finally located him, he was in a tree hanging from the highest tree branch. Crying, he explained to us that he had climbed up the tree and couldn't get down. We thought, okay, one of us should climb up and get him off, but we couldn't manage to get him moving down.

It was then my youngest sister, Ka, who was five and a half at the time had seen a similar situation. She suggested we grab a sheet, hold it under the branch Chris was hanging off of, and tell him to drop so we can catch him. My other sister, Yams, who is one year younger than me, peered at me to confirm the idea and I said "Yeah, let's try that".

So we grabbed a sheet from the closet and went to hold it beneath the tree. Now mind you, the ages holding this blanket were ranging from seven and a half to five and a half, thus the sheet was probably being held up to our waist and also close to touching the ground. But we were confident it could work.

We looked up to Chris and he looked down at us a bit hesitant. I don't blame him the poor guy. It was then we told him to let go and to fall on his back. Chris looked at me and asked "Are you sure I'll land on the blanket?" Now, my brother at the age of four, had a cute squeaky voice. But because of a problem at birth with his tongue being a bit attached to the mouth, it came out more like this, "Ah you sho awill lan on da blanked?", "Yup!", I told him, "We're sure!" and he let go.

Now when I think about Chris letting go of that branch, I think of his faith in me and my sisters and I also think how stupid he was to trust us, cause when that boy let go he was in for a big surprise. Chris fell right through that sheet and landed right on his stomach. And no matter how tight we held on to the sheet, he still managed to get through.

We were shocked and a bit worried and we looked at the ground where he landed. This tiny seventy pound boy had made a hole right through the sheet and landed. He was positioned like one of those chalk drawings you find after a homicide, with one arm near the head another to the side and the knee bent a bit. We might as well have drawn an outline because he wasn't moving. So we bent down to check if he was still alive and when we asked him if he was okay he uttered these five words… "Ah stee hi da flow" in other words, "I still hit the floor!" Poor little man! But before you condemn us, Chris is fourteen now and he still bugs us about it, any tree he climbs he gets down on his own and, strangely, he wants to be a fireman when he grows up. Now he can write that he had personal experience about jumping and catching. See, no harm done…

The Circus 父亲之间的默契

Once, when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter.

This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money.

Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night.

One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives. The father and mother were at the head of the pack, standing proud as could be.

The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor."

He was smiling and basking in pride, looking back at her as if to reply, "You got that right."

The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, "Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus."

The ticket lady quoted the price. The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, and his lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"

The ticket lady again quoted the price. The man didn't have enough money.

How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn‘t have enough money to take them to the circus? Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!)

My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."

The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear running down his cheek, he replied, "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."

My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.

人生五十大信条

In my opinion, these things matter…

1. Listening enough to care and caring enough to listen.

2. Being a dreamer but not living in a dream world.

3. Saying "It doesn't matter" and meaning it.

4. Being a positive influence in any way possible, to as many as possible, for as long as I possibly can.

5. Balancing justice with mercy and fairness with common sense.

6. Being patient and patiently enduring.

7. Earning credibility instead of demanding compliance.

8. Valuing the wisdom of discernment, the danger of pleasure without restraint, and the joy of victory with integrity.

9. Being worthy of trust and trusting what's worthwhile.

10. Enjoying all things small and beautiful.

11. Words that heal.

12. Words that help.

13. And words that encourage.

14. Forgiving myself for what I've done and others for what they haven't.

15. Gaining what I desire without losing what I should gain.

16. Maintaining the passion of purpose while avoiding the pit falls of making hasty decisions with little or no discernment.

17. Watching "You've Got Mail" one more time.

18. Enjoying life for all it holds instead of holding out for all it has yet to become.

19. Giving praise without demands and encouragement without expectations.

20. Hugs.

21. Healing wounds.

22. And helping people realize their dreams.

23. Knowing when I can, can't and shouldn't.

24. Laughter for the sake of laughter!

25. Leading while not forgetting how to follow.

26. Honoring the honorable and avoiding the painful errors of the disgraceful.

27. Knowing the power of commitment, the rewards of self-discipline and the meaning of faith in myself and others.

28. Smiles -- lots of them.

29. Learning as much as I can for as long as I can.

30. Standing for what's right when everything's wrong, and saying "I'm wrong" when something's not right.

31. Letting the music play.

32. Knowing I can and seeking help when I can't.

33. Just doing nothing at just the right time.

34. Filling my mind with all that is excellent, truthful, full of hope, and worthy of thinking about again.

35. Kisses that say "I love you" more than "I need you."

36. Treasuring ideas for their untapped potential.

37. Caring.

38. Giving.

39. And having fun.

40. Refusing to believe lies about myself or others regardless of the source -- including what I hear from within.

41. Trusting enough to see good in people without blindly trusting in the goodness of all people.

42. Success without self-absorption.

43. Showing I know the difference between keeping the rules and listening with understanding.

44. Winning with dignity.

45. Losing with grace.

46. And learning from both.

47. Believing in all my possibilities -- and yours too!

48. Appreciating the wisdom of maturity and the beauty of childhood.

49. Avoiding the bondage of bitterness, the deceit of wealth without character, and the vanity of pride without gratefulness.

50. Loving for all I'm worth because in the end it's worth it all.

第一选择

"Dr. Carr! Is it you? Is it really you?" I turned from where I had been browsing in the bookstore to see a six-foot-six, muscular, good-looking, smiling, sandy-haired young man calling me.

"It's me, Dr. Carr! Gibby!"

"Gibby, it can't be. You're all grown up!"

Looking closer, I would have known those eyes anywhere: serious, intense, penetrating blue eyes. Yes, It was my Gibby, all right.

He leaned down to hug his former elementary principal, and my thoughts went back to that shy, overweight little boy who transferred to our school as he began the fifth grade. He was quiet and withdrawn then.

Gibby had a difficult time the first few months, as do many children when they enter a new school. Some of the boys teased him about his lack of athletic ability when he attempted to play games on the playground. Gibby wasn't coordinated and had difficulty keeping up. He always appeared to be stumbling over his shoestrings. Most of the time, he was. I would remind him, "Better tie your shoestrings, Son," and he'd reply, "Yes, ma'am, Dr. Carr."

Often I would watch the students playing at recess. I noticed that when they began to choose up sides for a game, serious little Gibby would usually be left standing alone. Several times I went out on the playground and said, "I never get to choose a team. May I?" The boys and girls would laugh at their principal who wanted to play, and say, "Okay, Dr. Carr, it's your turn!" I'd call out a few names and then, around the fourth or fifth spot, I'd call Gibby's name and a few others who never seemed to get selected by their peers. My team may not have been the best, but we were, by far, the happiest and definitely the most committed, determined, and loyal.

In the early spring of Gibby's fifth grade year, I held an exercise class on the playground during recess for anyone who wanted to tone up their winter-weary muscles. Girls flocked to this program, and so did a few boys. Gibby was one of those.

We began by walking briskly around the perimeter of the large playground. I led the pack and Gibby invariably brought up the rear, puffing and panting and tripping over his shoestrings. As my group circled, we would pass Gibby who was giving it his all, but nevertheless, lagging far behind. I'd call to him, "Good going, Gibby. Keep it up. You're getting the hang of it. Uh . . . Better tie your shoestrings, Son."

"Yes, ma'am, Dr. Carr," he said, breathing hard and trying to put on a happy face.

After a month, Gibby shed a few pounds and didn't huff and puff as much. He still tripped over his shoestrings, but he did keep up with the group much easier.

By the fifth week, we had as many boys in our exercise class as girls. I don‘t believe the boys were suddenly all that interested in their health, for it was about this time the girls decided to dress out in shorts. We added some floor exercises to our program and held this class in the gym. Gibby was right there, in the back row, stretching and bending, lifting and kicking, as intense as ever. Gibby never gave up or made excuses. The little fellow just wasn't a quitter. He tried harder than anyone, and I admired his spunk. Many of his classmates did too. In time, he gained confidence and began to smile and talk more. He wasn't the new kid anymore, and he began to make some solid friends.

Now, after all those years, here we were standing in the bookstore. My little Gibby towered over me.

"What are you doing here, Gibby?" I asked. "I heard you have moved to Georgia."

"Yes, Dr. Carr. I live in Atlanta now, and I'm division manager of a computer software company. I'm visiting my mom here this weekend," he replied.

"Well, you look good and sound happy, Gibby."

"I am happy, Dr. Carr. And I think of you often. You know, it was kinda hard for me to change schools back then and move to a new town, but you were real nice to me."

"Why, thank you, Gibby."

"Yeah, you were always laughing, and you made it fun to come to school," he said. "I'll never forget your exercise classes. You really made us work."

Then a big smile lit up his face as he continued, "But, Dr. Carr, you know the thing that I remember most about you?"

"I have no idea, Gibby. What was it?"

"Well," he said, as he stared at me with those deep blue eyes, "Whenever you got a chance to choose up sides on the playground, you never picked me last."

"Of course not, Gibby. You were one of my most determined players."

We hugged again and he said, "I'm married now, Dr. Carr. She's really nice and always laughing. Come to think of it, she's a lot like you. And the best thing about her is-from everyone in the world she could have married, she picked me. She picked me first!"

Tears flooded my eyes. I looked down to avoid his gaze and try to regain my control.

It was then that I noticed his shoes.

"Better tie your shoestrings," I mumbled, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand.

"Yes, ma'am, Dr. Carr," he replied, flashing that boyish grin.

The Baby Eagle 小鹰的故事

Once upon a time there was a baby eagle living in a nest perched on a cliff overlooking a beautiful valley with waterfalls and streams, trees and lots of little animals, scurrying about enjoying their lives.

The baby eagle liked the nest. It was the only world he had ever known. It was warm and comfortable, had a great view, and even better, he had all the food and love and attention that a great mother eagle could provide. Many times each day the mother would swoop down from the sky and land in the nest and feed the baby eagle delicious morsels of food. She was like a god to him, he had no idea where she came from or how she worked her magic.

The baby eagle was hungry all the time, but the mother eagle would always come just in time with the food and love and attention he craved. The baby eagle grew strong. His vision grew very sharp. He felt good all the time.

Until one day, the mother stopped coming to the nest.

The baby eagle was hungry. "I'm sure to die," said the baby eagle, all the time.

"Very soon, death is coming," he cried, with tears streaming down his face. Over and over. But there was no one there to hear him.

Then one day the mother eagle appeared at the top of the mountain cliff, with a big bowl of delicious food and she looked down at her baby. The baby looked up at the mother and cried "Why did you abandon me? I'm going to die any minute. How could you do this to me?"

The mother said, "Here is some very tasty and nourishing food, all you have to do is come get it."

"Come get it!" said the baby, with much anger. "How?"

The mother flew away.

The baby cried and cried and cried.

A few days later, "I'm going to end it all," he said. "I give up. It is time for me to die."

He didn't know his mother was nearby. She swooped down to the nest with his last meal.

"Eat this, it's your last meal," she said.

The baby cried, but he ate and whined and whined about what a bad mother she was.

"You're a terrible mother," he said. Then she pushed him out of the nest.

He fell.

Head first.

Picked up speed.

Faster and faster.

He screamed. "I'm dying I'm dying," he cried. He picked up more speed.

He looked up at his mother. "How could you do this to me?"

He looked down.

The ground rushed closer, faster and faster. He could visualize his own death so clearly, coming so soon, and cried and whined and complained. "This isn't fair!" he screamed.

Something strange happens.

The air caught behind his arms and they snapped away from his body, with a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced. He looked down and saw the sky. He wasn't moving towards the ground anymore, his eyes were pointed up at the sun.

"Huh?" he said. "What is going on here!"

"You're flying," his mother said.

"This is fun!" laughed the baby eagle, as he soared and dived and swooped.

"Yes it is!" said the mother.

A Plate of Peas 一盘豌豆

My grandfather died when I was a small boy, and my grandmother started staying with us for about six months every year. She lived in a room that doubled as my father's office, which we referred to as "the back room." She carried with her a powerful aroma. I don‘t know what kind of perfume she used, but it was the double-barreled, ninety-proof, knockdown, render-the-victim-unconscious, moose-killing variety. She kept it in a huge atomizer and applied it frequently and liberally. It was almost impossible to go into her room and remain breathing for any length of time. When she would leave the house to go spend six months with my Aunt Lillian, my mother and sisters would throw open all the windows, strip the bed, and take out the curtains and rugs. Then they would spend several days washing and airing things out, trying frantically to make the pungent odor go away.

This, then, was my grandmother at the time of the infamous pea incident.

It took place at the Biltmore Hotel, which, to my eight-year-old mind, was just about the fancies place to eat in all of Providence. My grandmother, my mother, and I were having lunch after a morning spent shopping. I grandly ordered a salisbury steak, confident in the knowledge that beneath that fancy name was a good old hamburger with gravy. When brought to the table, it was accompanied by a plate of peas. I do not like peas now. I did not like peas then. I have always hated peas. It is a complete mystery to me why anyone would voluntarily eat peas. I did not eat them at home. I did not eat them at restaurants. And I certainly was not about to eat them now. "Eat your peas," my grandmother said.

"Mother," said my mother in her warning voice. "He doesn‘t like peas. Leave him alone."

My grandmother did not reply, but there was a glint in her eye and a grim set to her jaw that signaled she was not going to be thwarted. She leaned in my direction, looked me in the eye, and uttered the fateful words that changed my life: "I'll pay you five dollars if you eat those peas."

I had absolutely no idea of the impending doom. I only knew that five dollars was an enormous, nearly unimaginable amount of money, and as awful as peas were, only one plate of them stood between me and the possession of that five dollars. I began to force the wretched things down my throat.

My mother was livid. My grandmother had that self-satisfied look of someone who has thrown down an unbeatable trump card. "I can do what I want, Ellen, and you can‘t stop me." My mother glared at her mother. She glared at me. No one can glare like my mother. If there were a glaring Olympics, she would undoubtedly win the gold medal.

I, of course, kept shoving peas down my throat. The glares made me nervous, and every single pea made me want to throw up, but the magical image of that five dollars floated before me, and I finally gagged down every last one of them. My grandmother handed me the five dollars with a flourish. My mother continued to glare in silence. And the episode ended. Or so I thought.

My grandmother left for Aunt Lillian's a few weeks later. That night, at dinner, my mother served two of my all-time favorite foods, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Along with them came a big, steaming bowl of peas. She offered me some peas, and I, in the very last moments of my innocent youth, declined. My mother fixed me with a cold eye as she heaped a huge pile of peas onto my plate. Then came the words that were to haunt me for years.

"You ate them for money," she said. "You can eat them for love."

Oh, despair! Oh, devastation! Now, too late, came the dawning realization that I had unwittingly damned myself to a hell from which there was no escape.

"You ate them for money. You can eat them for love."

What possible argument could I muster against that? There was none. Did I eat the peas? You bet I did. I ate them that day and every other time they were served thereafter. The five dollars were quickly spent. My grandmother passed away a few years later. But the legacy of the peas lived on, as it lives on to this day. If I so much as curl my lip when they are served (because, after all, I still hate the horrid little things), my mother repeats the dreaded words one more time: "You ate them for money," she says. "You can eat them for love."

发生在圣诞节的一个感人故事

For many of us, one Christmas stands out from all the others, the one when the meaning of the day shone clearest. My own "truest" Christmas began on a rainy spring day in the bleakest year of my life.
Recently divorced, I was in my 20s, had no job and was on my way downtown to go the rounds of the employment offices. I had no umbrella, for my old one had fallen apart, and I could not afford another one.

I sat down in the streetcar--and there against the seat was a beautiful silk umbrella with a silver handle inlaid with gold and necks of bright enamel. I had never seen anything so lovely.

I examined the handle and saw a name engraved among the golden scrolls. The usual procedure would have been to turn in the umbrella to the conductor, but on impulse I decided to take it with me and find the owner myself.

I got off the streetcar in a downpour and thankfully opened the umbrella to protect myself. Then I searched a telephone book for the name on the umbrella and found it. I called and a lady answered.

Yes, she said in surprise, that was her umbrella, which her parents, now dead, had given her for a birthday present. But, she added, it had been stolen from her locker at school (she was a teacher) more than a year before.

She was so excited that I forgot I was looking for a job and went directly to her small house. She took the umbrella, and her eyes filled with tears.

The teacher wanted to give me a reward, but--though twenty dollars was all I had in the world--her happiness at retrieving this special possession was such that to have accepted money would have spoiled something. We talked for a while, and I must have given her my address. I don't remember.

The next six months were wretched. I was able to obtain only temporary employment here and there, for a small salary. But I put aside twenty-five or fifty cents when I could afford it for my lithe girl's Christmas presents.

My last job ended the day before Christmas, my thirty-dollar rent was soon due, and 1 had fifteen dollars to my name--which Peggy and I would need for food.

She was home from convent boarding school and was excitedly looking forward to her gifs next day, which I had already Purchased. I had bough her a small tree, and we were going to decorate it that night.

The air was full of the sound of Christmas merriment as I walked from the streetcar to my small apartment. Bells rang and children shouted in the bitter dusk of the evening, and windows were lighted and everyone was running and laughing. But there should be no Christmas for me, I knew, no gifts, no remembrance whatsoever.

As l struggled through the snowdrifts, l had just about reached the lowest Point in my life. Unless a miracle happened, I would be homeless in January, foodless, jobless. I had prayed steadily for weeks, and there had been no answer but this coldness and darkness, this harsh air, this abandonment.

God and men had completely forgotten me. I felt so helpless and so lonely. What was to become of us?

I looked in my mail box. There were only bills in it, a sheaf of them, and two white envelopes which I was sure contained more bills. I went up three dusty flights of stairs and I cried, shivering in my thin coat.

But I made myself smile so I could greet my little daughter with a Pretense of happiness. She opened the door for me and threw herself in my arms, screaming joyously and demanding that we decorate the tree immediately.

Peggy had proudly set our kitchen table for our evening meal and put pans out and three cans of food which would be our dinner. For some reason, when I looked at those pans and cans, I felt brokenhearted. We would have only hamburgers for our Christmas dinner tomorrow.

I stood in the cold little kitchen, misery overwhelmed me. For the first time in my life, I doubted the existence and his mercy, and the coldness in my heart was colder than ice.

The doorbell rang and Peggy ran fleetly to answer it, calling that it must be Santa Claus. Then I heard a man talking heartily to her and went to the door. He was a delivery man, and his arms were full of parcels. "This is a mistake," I said, but he read the name on the parcels and there were for me.

When he had gone I could only stare at the boxes. Peggy and I sat on the floor and opened them. A huge doll, three times the size of the one I had bought for her. Gloves. Candy. A beautiful leather purse. Incredible! I looked for the name of the sender. It was the teacher, the address was simply "California", where she had moved.

Our dinner the nigh was the most delicious I had ever eaten. I forgot I had no money for the rent and only fifteen dollars in my purse and no job. My child and I ate and laughed together in happiness.

Then we decorated the little tree and marveled at it. I put Peggy to bed and set up her gifts around the tree and a sweet peace flooded me like a benediction. I had some hope again. I could even examine the sheaf of bills without cringing.

美丽人生的七大秘诀

A great life doesn't happen by accident. A great life is the result of allocating your time, energy, thoughts, and hard work towards what you want your life to be. Stop setting yourself up for stress and failure, and start setting up your life to support success and ease. A great life is the result of using what you get in a creative and thoughtful way, instead of just what comes next. Customize these "secrets" to fit your own needs and style, and start creating your own great life today!

1. S—Simplify. A great life is the result of simplifying your life. People often misinterpret what simplify means. It's not a way to remove work from your life. When you focus on simplifying your life, you free up energy and time for the work that you enjoy and the purpose for which you are here. In order to create a great life, you will have to make room for it in yours first.

2. E—Effort. A great life is the result of your best effort. Creating a great life requires that you make some adjustments. It may mean re-evaluating how you spend your time, or choosing to spend your money in a different way. It may mean looking for new ways to spend your energy that coincide with your particular definition of a great life. Life will reward your best effort.

3. C—Create priorities. A great life is the result of creating priorities. It's easy to spend your days just responding to the next thing that gets your attention, instead of intentionally using the time, energy and money you have in a way that's important to you. Focus on removing the obstacles that get in the way of you making sure you are honoring your priorities.

4. R—Reserves. A great life is the result of having reserves—reserves of things, time, space, energy, money. With reserves, you acquire far more than you need—not 6 months living expenses, but 5 years worth; not 15 minutes of free time, 1 day. Reserves are important because they reduce the fear of consequences, and that allows you to make decisions based on what you really want instead of what the fear decides for you.

5. E—Eliminate distractions. A great life is the result of eliminating distractions. Up to 75% of your mental energy can be tied up in things that are draining and distracting you. Eliminating distractions can be a difficult concept to many people, since they haven't really considered that there is another way to live. Look around at someone's life you admire. What do they do that you would like to incorporate into your own life? Ask them how they did it. Find ways to free up your mental energy for things that are more important to you.

6. T—Thoughts. A great life is the result of controlling your thoughts so that you accept and allow for the possibility that it actually can happen to you! Your belief in the outcome will directly dictate how successful you are. Motivated people have specific goals and look for ways to achieve them. Believing there is a solution to the same old problems you encounter year after year is vitally important to creating a life that you love.

7. S—Start. A great life is the result of starting. There's the old saying everyone's familiar with "a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." In order to even move from the couch to the refrigerator, you have to start. There's no better time to start than today. Don't wait for a raise, or until the kids get older, or the weather is better. Today, right now, is the right day to start to take a step in the direction of your heart's desires. It's what you do TODAY that will make a difference in your life tomorrow.

说出你的爱

There was once a guy who suffered from cancer, a cancer that can’t be cured. He was 18 years old and he could die anytime. All his life, he was stuck in his house being taken cared by his mother. He never went outside but he was sick of staying home and wanted to go out for once. So he asked his mother and she gave him permission.

He walked down his block and found a lot of stores. He passed a CD store and looked through the front door for a second as he walked. He stopped and went back to look into the store. He saw a beautiful girl about his age and he knew it was love at first sight. He opened the door and walked in, not looking at anything else but her. He walked closer and closer until he was finally at the front desk where she sat.

She looked up and asked, "Can I help you?"

She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before and wanted to kiss her right there.

He said, "Uh... Yeah... Umm... I would like to buy a CD."

He picked one out and gave her money for it.

"Would you like me to wrap it for you?" she asked, smiling her cute smile again.

He nodded and she went to the back. She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store.
He went home and from then on, he went to that store every day and bought a CD, and she wrapped it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet. He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn’t. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her. So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store as usual. He bought a CD like he did every day and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn’t looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out...

RRRRRING!!!

One day the phone rang, and the mother picked it up and said, "Hello?"

It was the girl!!! The mother started to cry and said, "You don’t know? He passed away yesterday..."

The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy’s mother. Later in the day, the mother went into the boy’s room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet.


She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs. She was surprised to find all these CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one. Inside, there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it. It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jocelyn.

The mother was deeply moved and opened another CD...

Again there was a piece of paper. It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jocelyn.

Love is... when you’ve had a huge fight but then decide to put aside your egos, hold hands and say, "I Love You."

The Rose

The old lady had always been proud of the great rose-tree in her garden, and was fond of telling how it had grown from a cutting she had brought years before from Italy, when she was first married. She and her husband had been travelling back in their carriage from Rome ( it was before the time of railways ) and on a bad piece of road south of Siena they had broken down, and had been forced to pass the night in a little house by the road-side. The accommodation was wretched of course; she had spent a sleepless night, and rising early had stood, wrapped up, at her window, with the cool air blowing on her face, to watch the dawn. She could still, after all these years, remember the blue mountains with the bright moon above them, and how a far-off town on one of the peaks had gradually grown whiter and whiter, till the moon faded, the mountains were touched with the pink of the rising sun, and suddenly the town was lit as by an illumination, one window after another catching and reflecting the sun's beam, till at last the whole little city twinkled and sparkled up in the sky like a nest of stars.
That morning, finding they would have to wait while their carriage was being repaired, they had driven in a local conveyance up to the city on the mountain, where they had been told they would find better quarters; and there they had stayed two or three days. It was one of the miniature Italian cities with a high church, a pretentious piazza, a few narrow streets and little palaces, perched, all compact and complete, on the top of a mountain, within and enclosure of walls hardly larger than an English kitchen garden. But it was full of life and nose, echoing all day and all night with the sounds of feet and voices.
The Cafe of the simple inn where they stayed was the meeting place of the notabilities of the little city; the Sindaco, the avvocato, the doctor, and a few others; and among them they noticed a beautiful, slim, talkative old man, with bright black eyes and snow-white hair — tall and straight and still with the figure of a youth, although the waiter told them with pride that the Conte was molto vecchio — would in fact be eightey in the following year. He was the last of his family, the waiter added — they had once been great and rich people — but he had no descendants; in fact the waiter mentioned with complacency, as if it were a story on which the locality prided itself, that the Conte had been unfortunate in love, and had never married.
The old gentleman, however, seemed cheerful enough; and it was plain that he took an interest in the strangers, and wished to make their acquaintance. This was soon effected by the friendly waiter; and after a little talk the old man invited them to visit his villa and garden which were just outside the walls of the town. So the next afternoon, when the sun began to descend, and they saw in glimpses through door-ways and windows, blue shadows beginning to spread over the brown mountains, they went to pay their visit. It was not much of a place, a small, modernized, stucco villa, with a hot pebbly garden, and in it a stone basin with torpid gold-fish, and a statue of Diana and her hounds against the wall. But what gave a glory to it was a gigantic rose-tree which clambered over the house, almost smothering the windows, and filling the air with the perfume of its sweetness. Yes, it was a fine rose, the Conte said proudly when they praised it, and he would tell the Signora about it. And as they sat there, drinking the wine he offered them, he alluded with the cheerful indifference of old age to his love-affair, as though he took for granted that they had heard of it already.
"The lady lived across the valley there beyond that hill. I was a young man then, for it was many years ago. I used to ride over to see her; it was a long way, but I rode fast, for young men, as no doubt the Signora knows, are impatient. But the lady was not kind, she would keep me waiting, oh, for hours; and one day when I had waited very long I grew very angry, and as I walked up and down in the garden where she had told me she would see me, I broke one of her roses, broke a branch from it ; and when I saw what I had done, I hid it inside my coat — so —; and when I came home I planted it, and the Signora sees how it has grown. If the Signora admires it, I must give her a cutting to plant also in her garden; I am told the English have beautiful gardens that are green, and not burnt with the sun like ours."
The next day, when their mended carriage had come up to fetch them, and they were just starting to drive away from the inn, the Conte's old servant appeared with the rose-cutting neatly wrapped up, and the compliments and wishes for a buon viaggio from her master. The town collected to see them depart, and the children heard a rush of feet behind them for a few moments, but soon they were far down towards the valley; the little town with all its noise and life was high above them on its mountain peak.
She had planted the rose at home, where it had grown and flourished in a wonderful manner; and every June the great mass of leaves and shoots still broke out into a passionate splendour of scent and crimson colour, as if in its root and fibres there still burnt the anger and thwarted desire of that Italian lover. Of course the old Conte must have died many years ago; she had forgotten his name, and had even forgotten the name of the mountain city that she had stayed in, after first seeing it twinkling at dawn in the sky, like a nest of stars.
Siena: 意大利城镇名
piazza: 特指意大利都市中的广场或市场
Sindaco: 意语，市长
avvocato: 意语，律师
Conte: 意语，伯爵
molto vecchio: 意语，very old
Signora：意语，夫人
buon viaggio: =good journey.

错过的祝福

A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.

As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped gift box. Curious, but somewhat disappointed, the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible, with the young man's name embossed in gold.

Angrily, he raised his voice to his father and said, "With all your money you give me a Bible?" He then stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.

Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and a wonderful family, but realizing his father was very old, he thought perhaps he should go to see him. He had not seen him since that graduation day. Before he could make the arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things.

When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to search through his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago.

With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he was reading, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words… "PAID IN FULL".
How many times do we miss blessings because they are not packaged as we expected? I trust you enjoyed this. Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. Sometimes we don't realize the good fortune we have or we could have because we expect "the packaging" to be different. What may appear as bad fortune may in fact be the door that is just waiting to be opened.

心窗

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room‘s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.



One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn‘t hear the band - he could see it in his mind‘s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly and painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

感恩节祝福短信

今天是感恩节，衷心祝福你！

From all of us to all of you at Thanksgiving. 　　

请接受我们诚挚的祝福：祝你们感恩节快乐！

I wish you could be here on Thanksgiving.

我真的希望你能来过感恩节。

Thanksgiving just won't be the same without you. 　　

没有你的感恩节像缺了点什么。

This will be our first Thanksgiving apart. 　　

这是我们第一次不在一起过感恩节。

It will be sad not to see you during the holiday when families get together. 　　

在这个家人团聚的节日里，见不到你，我会很难过。

Our first Thanksgiving should be our best. 　　

希望我们共度的第一个感恩节将成为我们回忆里最美好的时光。

I wouldn't want to spend Thanks-giving with anyone else. 　　

我只想与你共度感恩节。






Thanksgiving is a time when I tell you that I love you. 　　

今天是感恩节，我要对你说我爱你。

Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. 　　

感恩节是一年中最美好的日子。

I love to eat, so I love Thanksgiving. 　　

我爱吃，所以我爱过感恩节。

I hope you are feeling thankful after your supper. 　　

希望你吃过感恩节晚餐后能生出点感恩之情。

I will be home for Thanksgiving, so save a little turkey for me. 　　

我回家过感恩节，留点儿火鸡给我。

The Two Roads 两条路

It was New Year's Night. An aged man was standing at a window. He raised his mournful eyes towards the deep blue sky, where the stars were floating like white lilies on the surface of a clear calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, where few more hopeless people than himself now moved towards their certain goal——the tomb. He had already passed sixty of the stages leading to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. Now his health was poor, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, and his old age short of comforts.

The days of his youth appeared like dreams before him, and he recalled the serious moment when his father placed him at the entrance of the two roads——one leading to a peaceful, sunny place, covered with flowers, fruits and resounding with soft, sweet songs; the other leading to a deep, dark cave, which was endless, where poison flowed instead of water and where devils and poisonous snakes hissed and crawled.

He looked towards the sky and cried painfully, "Oh youth, return! Oh my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, and I'll choose the better way!" But both his father and the days of his youth had passed away.

He was the lights flowing away in the darkness. These were the days of his wasted life; he saw a star fall from the sky and disappeared, and this was the symbol of himself. His remorse, which was like a sharp arrow, struck deeply into his heart. Then he remembered his friends in his childhood, who entered on life together with him. But they had made their way to success and were now honoured and happy on this New Year's night.

The clock in the high church tower struck and the sound made him remember his parents' early love for him. They had taught him and prayed to God for his good. But he chose the wrong way. With shame and grief he dared no longer look towards that heaven where his father live. His darkened eyes were full of tears, and with a despairing effort, he burst out a cry: "Come back, my early days! Come back!"

And his youth did return, for all this was only a dream which he had on New Year's Night. He was still young though his faults were real; he had not yet entered the deep, dark cave, and he was still free to walk on the road which leads to the peaceful and sunny land.

Those who still linger on the entrance of life, hesitating to choose the bright road, remember that when years are passed and your feet stumble on the dark mountains, you will cry bitterly, but in vain: "O youth, return! Oh give me back my early days!"

如果有来生

如果有来生，我会请少说多听；如果有来生，我会请朋友家里吃饭；如果有来生，我会听祖父唠叨他的青年时代……，如果有来生，你会怎样？

If I had my life to live over...I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was strained and the sofa faded.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up onasummer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television-and more while watching life.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretendingtheearth would go into a holding patter if I were not there fortheday.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical,would not show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

There would have been more I love yous ... more I'm sorrys...but mostly, given another shots at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.

“光棍节”：发现爱

The Single's Day is just around the corner. In China, Valentine’s Day is overrated and has a reputation for being exclusively for couples. But what about the single gal or guy? In that day single people often feel lonely and even worthless. There must be a way they can celebrate their day even without a partner. That's why the Single's Day came about. We should look at it as nothing more than an excuse to treat ourselves to one or a few indulgences.

I came up with some suggestions on how “single” men and women could spend the day alone, but not necessarily lonely. Instead of passing The Single's Day off as a completely invaluable waste of space on the calendar, try one, several or all of the following esteem-boosters to lift your single spirit this time around.

1. The recently single gal/guy. First and foremost, do not ever call your ex in case you get lonely. Exes belong to the past. Move on.



Yes, you must still be hurting and are going through the healing process. But remember this famous line from a song: "Ooh child, things are gonna be easier." In time you are indeed going to be OK. Don’t sulk. The Single's Day can be a day to spend with family.

You can even make it more creative by suggesting potluck and maybe plan some board games or videoke. During this time, family can offer you the most solid support you will need, so take advantage of it.

2. The still-single guy or gal. Some of you may be getting restless already because it’s been years and you’re still without a partner. Relax. Why don’t you call your other single pals and plan a night out? Have a nice dinner and go to a singles bar afterward. You’ll never know who you might meet. There is always a big chance you will meet someone interesting and single too. The Single's Day is also for people looking for love.

3. Otherwise, for the groom-to-be, you can plan a bachelor party or fraternity party.You plan every aspect including bachelor party ideas, games, party favors, drinks and food for your bachelor party or fraternity party (frat party). Since a lot goes into planning the bachelor party, it's will be tricky, fun but also stressful. Make it a very memorable one, why not enjoy it?

4. Buy yourself your favorite flowers. Who says you have to wait around for Prince/Princess Charming to add some spice and color to your dorm or apartment with your preferred plant life? Both guys and girls enjoy the occasional bouquet of Birds of Paradise or a lucky bamboo tree to boost Feng Shui.

5. The single mom/dad (formerly married or not). Take your kid/s out on a date. Why not? You can even plan an all-day activity. Go to the mall, take him to his favorite pizza place, watch a movie or treat him to play-all-you-can (with a reasonable budget) games at a carnival. It could be anything. Time spent with your kids is always worthwhile.

Do as you please. Ultimately, you know what can make you happy. That’s the most important thing.

Who says romance is dead? Believe it: Love is in the air! Choose what you like，trust your family and friends.

你可以选择……

今天就在你的眼前，等着你去塑造。你就是每一天的雕刻师，每一个今天都在你手中……

You have a choice I woke up early today, excited over all I get to do before the clock strikes midnight. I have responsibilities to fulfill today. I am important.

My job is to choose what kind of day I am going to have.

Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.




Today I can fell sad that I don’t have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.

Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.

Today I can lament over all that my parents didn’t give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.

Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.

Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new relationships.

Today I can murmur dejectedly because I have to do housework or I can feel honored because the Lord has provided shelter for my mind, body and soul.

Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping.

What today will be like is up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I will have!

每一天都是幸运的

I teach economics at UNLV three times per week. Last Monday, at the beginning of class, I cheerfully asked my students how their weekend had been. One young man said that his weekend had not been so good. He had his wisdom teeth removed. The young man then proceeded to ask me why I always seemed to be so cheerful.

His question reminded me of something I‘d read somewhere before: "Every morning when you get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach life that day," I said. "I choose to be cheerful."

"Let me give you an example," I continued, addressing all sixty students in the class. "In addition to teaching here at UNLV, I also teach out at the community college in Henderson, 17 miles down the freeway from where I live. One day a few weeks ago I drove those 17 miles to Henderson. I exited the freeway and turned onto College Drive. I only had to drive another quarter mile down the road to the college. But just then my car died. I tried to start it again, but the engine wouldn‘t turn over. So I put my flashers on, grabbed my books, and marched down the road to the college."

"As soon as I got there I called AAA and arranged for a tow truck to meet me at my car after class. The secretary in the Provost‘s office asked me what has happened. ‘This is my lucky day,‘ I replied, smiling."

" ‘Your car breaks down and today is your lucky day?‘ She was puzzled. ‘What do you mean?‘"

" ‘I live 17 miles from here.‘ I replied. ‘My car could have broken down anywhere along the freeway. It didn‘t. Instead, it broke down in the perfect place: off the freeway, within walking distance of here. I‘m still able to teach my class, and I‘ve been able to arrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break down today, it couldn‘t have been arranged in a more convenient fashion.‘"

"The secretary‘s eyes opened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for class." So ended my story.

I scanned the sixty faces in my economics class at UNLV. Despite the early hour, no one seemed to be asleep. Somehow, my story had touched them. Or maybe it wasn‘t the story at all. In fact, it had all started with a student‘s observation that I was cheerful.

Run Through the Rain

世间万物皆有自己的季节，做任何事情也有一个恰当的时机。如果有机会，你也可以在雨中狂奔一回……

She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful brown haired, 1)freckle-faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that 2)gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth it has no time to flow down the spout.

We all stood there under the 3)awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart. We waited, some patiently, others 4)irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always 5)mesmerized by rainfall. I get lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring in as a welcome 6)reprieve from the worries of my day.

Her voice was so sweet as it broke the 7)hypnotic 8)trance we were all caught in. "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said.

"What?" Mom asked.

"Let's run through the rain!" She repeated.

"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom, let's run through the rain."

"We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.

"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm."

This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"

"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!"

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say.

Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. Time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith. "Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said. Then off they ran.

We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing. Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories. So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories every day!

To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. I hope you still take the time to run through the rain.

She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful brown haired, freckle-faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth it has no time to flow down the spout.

We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart. We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I get lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

Her voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in. "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said.

"What?" Mom asked.

"Let's run through the rain!" She repeated.

"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom, let's run through the rain."

"We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.

"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm."

This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"

"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!"

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say.

Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. Time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith. "Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said. Then off they ran.

We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing. Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories. So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories every day!

To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. I hope you still take the time to run through the rain.