发自内心的爱让你觉得充满活力、精神焕发和幸福无比。这种感觉能激发你的灵感，攀升生活的高度……这是你以前从没想到过的。
Sand And Stone沙子和石头
The story goes that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had argument， and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt， but without saying anything， wrote in the sand： “today my best friend slapped me in my face.”
They kept on walking until they found an oasis， where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning， but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning， he wrote on a stone： “today my best friend saved my life.”
The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him： “After I hurt you， you wrote in the sand and now you write on a stone. Why？”
The other replied： “when someone hurts us， we write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But when someone does something good for us， we must engrave it in stone where no wind ever erases it.”
Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your benefits in stone.
故事是说两个朋友在荒漠里穿行，途中发生了争执，其中一个朋友扇了另一个朋友一个耳光。被打的人非常伤心，但他什么也没说，只是在沙地上写道：“今天，我最好的一个朋友打了我一个耳光。”
他们继续往前走，发现了一片绿洲，他们决定在那里洗个澡。结果被打的那位陷进了泥潭，眼看就要被淹死，但他的朋友救了他。恢复过来后，他在石头上写道：“今天我最好的一个朋友救了我的命。”
那位打了他并救了他的朋友问道：：“为什么我伤害你时，你在沙地上写下来，而现在却在石头上刻下来呢？”
那位被救的人答道：“受到伤害时，我们应该把它写在沙地上，宽恕之风会将其抹平。可受人恩惠时，我们应该把它刻在石头上，任何风雨也不会将其擦掉。”
学会将所有的伤害写在沙子上，把所有的恩泽刻在石头上。
Investment Of Love爱的投资
I bumped into a stranger as he passed by. “Oh， excuse me Please，” I said. He said， “Please excuse me too. I wasn’t even watching for you.” We were very polite， this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said goodbye. But when we are at home a different story is told.
Later that day， when I was cooking the evening meal， my daughter stood beside me very still.
When I turned， I nearly knocked her down. “Move out of the way，” I said with a frown. She walked away and her little heart was broken. I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.
While I lay awake， that evening， in bed， God’s still small voice came to me and said， “While dealing with a stranger， you use common courtesy， but the children you love， you seem to abuse. Go look on the kitchen floor， you’ll find some flowers there by the door. Those are the flowers she brought for you. She picked them herself： pink， yellow and blue. She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise， and you never saw the tears in her eyes.”
By this time， I felt very small， and now my tears began to fall. I quietly went and knelt by her bed. “Wake up， little girl， wake up，” I said， “Are these the flowers you picked for me？” She smiled， “I found them， out by the tree. I picked them because they’re pretty like you. I knew you’d like them， especially the blue.” I said， “Daughter， I’m sorry for the way I acted today. I shouldn’t have yelled at you that way.” She said， “Oh， Mom， that’s okay. I love you anyway.” I said， “Daughter， I love you too， and I do like the flowers， especially the blue.”
Are you aware that： If we die tomorrow， the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it， we pour ourselves more into work than to our family — an unwise investment indeed.
不小心撞到了一位路人，“对不起，请原谅，”我说。“请原谅我，”他说，“我没有注意到您。”我们两个陌生人都很礼貌。我们相互道别，继续各自的路程。但是，当我们回到家中，对待我们的家人的时候，情况却不太相同。
那天下午，我在准备晚餐，女儿静静地站在旁边。当我转身的时候，差点儿把她撞倒。
“别挡路。”我皱着眉头说道。她走开了，带着受伤的心灵。我没有意识到我的话是多么的严厉苛刻。
那天晚上，我躺在床上，上帝温柔的声音出现在我的耳旁，“对待一个陌生人，你是那样的有礼貌，但是对于你深爱的孩子，你却有些粗鲁。去厨房看看吧，你会发现门口放着鲜花。那是她送给你的。她亲自采的花，粉的，黄的，蓝的。她静静地站在那，为的是给你一个惊喜，你没有看见她眼中的泪滴。”
此时，我感到自己十分渺小，眼泪开始从眼眶中溢出。我悄悄地走到她的床边，“醒醒，我的女儿，醒醒，”我说道，“这些花儿是你为我采的吗？”她笑了，“我在那边的树下发现了这些花儿。我摘了这些花儿，因为他们像你一样漂亮。我知道你会喜欢的，特别是这些蓝色的花儿。”我说到，“女儿，原谅我今天的行为吧，我不该对你大声喊。”她说，“没关系的，妈妈。我爱你！”我说，“女儿，我同样爱你！我真的很喜欢这些花儿，特别是蓝色的。”
你意识到了吗：如果我们明天死了，我们工作的公司会很容易地找到其他的人来替代我们。但是，我们的家人会永远感到失去我们的痛苦。好好想想吧，我们把我们更多的精力投入到了工作中，这是一个多么不明智的投资啊！
I Love You， Little Girl我爱你，小丫头
Once upon a time there was a great man who married the woman of his dreams. With their love， they created a little girl. She was a bright little girl and the man loved her very much.
When she was very little， he would pick her up， hum a tune and dance with her， and he would tell her， “I love you， little girl.”
When the little girl was growing up， the great man would hug her and tell her， “I love you， little girl.” The little girl would pout and say，” I’m not a little girl anymore.” Then the man would laugh and say， “But to me， you’ll always be my little girl.”
The little girl who was not little anymore left her home and went into the world. As she learned more about herself， she learned more about the man. She saw that he truly was great and one of his strengths was his ability to express his love to his family. It didn’t matter where she went in the world， the man would call her and say， “I love you， little girl.”
The day came when the great man had a stroke. He couldn’t talk anymore. He could no longer smile， laugh， walk， hug， dance or tell the little girl that he loved her.
And so she went to the side of the great man. He looked at her and tried to speak， but he could not.
The little girl did the only thing she could do. She climbed up on the bed next to the great man. Tears ran from both of their eyes and she drew her arms around the shoulders of her father.
Her head on his chest， she thought of many things. She remembered the wonderful times together and how she had always felt protected and cherished by the great man. She felt grief for the loss she was to endure， the words of love that had comforted her.
And then she heard from within the man， the beat of his heart， the heart where the music and the words had always lived. And while she rested there， the magic happened. She heard what she needed to hear.
His heart beat out the words that his mouth could no longer say…
I love you， little girl！
I love you， little girl！
I love you， little girl！
从前有一个了不起的人，娶了他理想中的女人为妻。他们相爱并生了一个小女孩。小女孩很聪明，父亲很喜欢她。
在她很小的时候，他经常会抱着她，哼着歌曲跳舞，并对她说“我爱你，小丫头。”
小女孩慢慢长大，他还会拥抱着她对她说：“我爱你，小丫头。”这时小女孩总会撅起嘴说：“我已经不再是小丫头了。”他就会笑着说：“可在我眼里，你永远都是我的小丫头。”
不再是小丫头的小女孩离开了家来到了外面的世界。当她更多地认识了自己之后，她也就更多地认识了她的父亲。她发现他是一个真正伟大的人，而这种伟大的表现之一就是他善于表达对家人的爱。无论她走到哪里，他都会打电话给她对她说：“我爱你，小丫头。”
直到有一天，这位了不起的父亲突发中风。他再也不能说话，再也不能微笑、大笑、行走、拥抱、跳舞，再也不能对小女孩说他爱她了。
于是她回到了父亲的身边。他看着她想对她说些什么却什么也说不出来。
小女孩做了她唯一可以做的事情。她爬到了父亲的床边。泪水从他们的眼中流出，她伸出胳膊搂住了父亲的双肩。
她把头靠在父亲的胸前，往事涌上心间。她想起了和父亲共度的美好时光，想起了父亲的呵护与宠爱。她再也不能听到曾给她安慰的爱的话语，无法承受的痛苦让她感到悲伤。
然而，就在此时她听到了来自父亲心底的声音，那是那颗永远充满音乐和爱的语言的心跳动的声音。就在她把头靠在父亲胸前的时候，奇迹发生了。她听到了她想听到的声音。
他的心唱出了他不能说出的话……
我爱你，小丫头！
我爱你，小丫头！
我爱你，小丫头！
Blue Love蓝色恋情
Just separated with Blue， Blue is a very nice girl， beautiful and gentle. Many friends said that I was a fool to let her go. Even though it was hard， I still had to let her go.
The 1st day
Using her blanket and covering herself tightly， she didn’t get up. Her dorm mates were afraid to go in and comfort her. She didn’t eat anything the whole day， didn’t wash her face or brush her teeth. At night， I could hear her crying beneath the blanket.
The 2nd day
She ate today， forced down by her roommates. Her eyes were red. I always called her “Cry baby”. She always squirmed her mouth and retorted： “No， I’m not.”
The 3rd day
Today， she dressed very sexy， walked into a bar and drank a lot of alcohol. Using tempting moves， she surveyed the room. Many men came up to her and flirted with her telling her how beautiful she was. She drank a lot more. When a much older man， old enough to be her father， walked up and said： “Miss， let me take you home，” she splashed her drink onto his face. As the older man got ready to slap her， Mu showed up and saved Blue. I know all this because I was watching from a corner in the bar.
The 4th day
Today， she got up really early. After busying around all morning， she locked herself inside the bathroom. When her roommates opened the door， they were amazed： “So clean.”
The 5th day
She began studying. She had done very well in school before. However， when we got together， her grades deteriorated. It is good to focus on something else as it will improve recovery.
Three months later
She became president of the Student Union. She is becoming more and more able. She also becomes more open. Soon， she will need to prepare for graduate school.
One year later
There are many men beside her， many who are better than me. She never takes notice of them， but she gets along with Ling very well. There are rumors about them in school. She treats him like an elder brother， but rumor cannot be blocked.
Three years later
She is getting married. The groom is Ling. She is writing wedding invitations. After she wrote one， two， and three…12th card， she bent over the desk and tears fell down uncontrollably. I stepped forward and saw that on all the invitations， the groom’s name was mine.
I want to cry too， but ghost cannot cry. I do not have any tears.
Three years ago， when I was carrying her birthday cake crossing a street， a car crashed into me.
和蓝分手了，蓝是个很好的女孩，很漂亮也很温柔，虽然很多朋友说我离开她很傻，可我还是放手了，虽然我很舍不得。
第一天
她没有起床，把自己用被子捂得严严实实的，她宿舍的人都不敢去安慰她，她一天都没有吃饭，连刷牙洗脸都没有，晚上睡觉的时候我听到她在被子里抽泣。
第二天
今天她吃饭了，是她的舍友强制性让她吃的。她的眼眶红红的，我总说她是个爱哭鬼，她每次都噘着小嘴说她不是。
第三天
今天她穿得很妖艳，走进一家酒吧，喝了好多酒，用一种很具诱惑力的眼光环视全场，好多人上来搭腔“小姐，你好漂亮啊。”她喝了很多，当一个年纪可以做她爸爸的男人对她说“小姐，我送你回家吧”的时候她把手中的酒全泼在他的脸上，那个该死的老头扬起他的手掌就要打下去的时候，小睦来了，救了蓝。这一切我都知道，我就在酒吧的一个角落里看着。
第四天
今天她早早就起床了，忙忙碌碌了一上午，然后把自己关在浴室里好久，当舍友们踹门进去的时候都惊呼道：“好干净啊！”
第五天
她开始学习了，其实她原来学习很好，我们开始后受我影响她的成绩也退步了，这也好，转移一下注意力，恢复得也快。
三个月后
她成了学生会主席，越来越能干，也开朗了不少，马上她就要考研了。
一年后
在她身边的男生很多，比我优秀的也很多，可她根本没在意过，不过她和凌关系很好，校园里谣传他们的关系很暧昧。她只是把他当哥哥，可是流言是挡不住的。
三年后
她要结婚了，新郎是凌，她在写结婚请帖，一张，两张，三张……，写到第十二张的时候她哭了，趴在桌上眼泪完全抑制不住，我上前一看，所有喜帖上的新郎写的都是我的名字。
我也很想哭，可是鬼魂是不能哭的，我没有眼泪。
三年前，我横穿马路，遇上车祸，手里提着要给她庆祝生日的蛋糕。
A Letter From The Father To His Son父亲致儿子的一封信
Dear son：
The day that you see me old and I am already not， have patience and try to understand me …
If I get dirty when eating… if I can not dress… have patience. Remember the hours I spent teaching it to you.
If， when I speak to you， I repeat the same things thousand and one times… do not interrupt me… listen to me
When you were small， I had to read to you thousand and one times the same story until you gets to sleep…
When I do not want to have a shower， neither shame me nor scold me…
Remember when I had to chase you with thousand excuses I invented， in order that you wanted to bath…
When you？see my ignorance on new technologies… give me the necessary time and not look at me with your mocking smile…
I taught you how to do so many things… to eat well， to dress well… to confront life…
When at some moment I lose the memory or the thread of our conversation… let me have the necessary time to remember… and if I cannot do it， do not become nervous… as the most important thing is not my conversation but surely to be with you and to have you listening to me…
If ever I do not want to eat， do not force me. I know well when I need to and when not.
When my tired legs do not allow me walk...
…Give me your hand… the same way I did when you gave your first steps.
And when someday I say to you that I do not want to live any more… that I want to die… do not get angry… some day you will understand…
Try to understand that my age is not lived but survived.
Some day you will discover that， despite my mistakes， I always wanted the best thing for you and that I tried to prepare the way for you…
You must not feel sad， angry or impotent for seeing me near you. You must be next to me， try to understand me and to help me as I did it when you started living. Help me to walk… help me to end my way with love and patience. I will？pay you by a smile and by the immense love I have had always for you.
I love you son…
Your father
孩子：
哪天你看到我渐渐老去，身体也渐渐不行，请耐着性子试着了解我……
如果我吃的脏兮兮，如果我不会穿衣服……有耐性一点……你记得我曾花多久时间教你这些事吗？
如果，当我一再重复述说同样的事情……不要打断我，听我说……
你小时候，我必须一遍又一遍地读着同样的故事，直到你静静睡着……
当我不想洗澡，不要羞辱我也不要责骂我……
你记得小时后我曾编出多少理由，只为了哄你洗澡……
当你看到我对新科技的无知，给我一点时间，不要挂着嘲弄的微笑看着我……
我曾教了你多少事情啊……如何好好的吃，好好的穿……如何面对你的生命……
如果交谈中我忽然失忆不知所云，给我一点时间回想……如果我还是无能为力，请不要紧张……对我而言重要的不是对话，而是能跟你在一起，和你的倾听……
当我不想吃东西时，不要勉强我，我清楚知道该什么时候进食……
当我的腿不听使唤……
扶我一把……如同我曾扶着你踏出你人生的第一步……
当哪天我告诉你不想再活下去了……请不要生气…… 总有一天你会了解……
试着了解我已是风烛残年，来日可数。
有一天你会发现， 即使我有许多过错，我总是尽我所能要给你最好的……
当我靠近你时不要觉得感伤，生气或无奈；你要紧挨着我，如同我当初帮着你展开人生一样的了解我，帮我……扶我一把，用爱跟耐心帮我走完人生……我将用微笑和我始终不变无边无际的爱来回报你。
我爱你孩子。
你的父亲
The Warm Of A Cup Of Milk一杯牛奶的温暖
One day， a poor boy who was trying to pay his way through school by selling goods door to door found that he only had one dime left. He was hungry so he decided to beg for a meal at the next house.
However， he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly， and then asked， “How much do I owe you？”
“You don’t owe me anything，” she replied. “Mother has taught me never to accept pay for a kindness.” He said， “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” As Howard Kelly left that house， he not only felt stronger physically， but it also increased his faith in God and the human race. He was about to give up and quit before this point.
Years later the young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city， where specialists can be called in to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly， now famous was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from， a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately， he rose and went down through the hospital hall into her room.
Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room and determined to do his best to save her life. From that day on， he gave special attention to her case.
After a long struggle， the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it and then wrote something on the side. The bill was sent to her room. She was afraid to open it because she was positive that it would take the rest of her life to pay it off. Finally she looked， and the note on the side of the bill caught her attention. She read these words...
“Paid in full with a glass of milk.”
(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly
Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she prayed silently： “Thank You， God. Your love has spread through human hearts and hands.”
一天，一个贫穷的小男孩为了攒够学费正挨家挨户地推销商品。饥寒交迫的他摸遍全身，却只有一角钱。于是他决定向下一户人家讨口饭吃。
然而，当一位美丽的年轻女子打开房门的时候，这个小男孩却有点不知所措了。他没有要饭，只乞求给他一口水喝。这位女子看到他饥饿的样子，就倒了一大杯牛奶给他。男孩慢慢地喝完牛奶，问道：“我应该付多少钱？”
年轻女子微笑着回答：“一分钱也不用付。我妈妈教导我，施以爱心，不图回报。”男孩说：“那么，就请接受我由衷的感谢吧！”说完，霍华德·凯利就离开了这户人家。此时的他不仅自己浑身是劲儿，而且更加相信上帝和整个人类。本来，他都打算放弃了。
数年之后，那位女子得了一种罕见的重病，当地医生对此束手无策。最后，她被转到大城市医治，由专家会诊治疗。大名鼎鼎的霍华德·凯利医生也参加了医疗方案的制定。当他听到病人来自的那个城镇的名字时，一个奇怪的念头霎时间闪过他的脑际。他马上起身直奔她的病房。
身穿手术服的凯利医生来到病房，一眼就认出了恩人。回到会诊室后，他决心一定要竭尽所能来治好她的病。从那天起，他就特别关照这个对自己有恩的病人。
经过艰苦的努力，手术成功了。凯利医生要求把医药费通知单送到他那里，他看了一下，便在通知单的旁边签了字。当医药费通知单送到她的病房时，她不敢看。因为她确信，治病的费用将会花费她整个余生来偿还。最后，她还是鼓起勇气，翻开了医药费通知单，旁边的那行小字引起了她的注意，她不禁轻声读了出来：
“医药费已付：一杯牛奶。”
(签名)霍华德·凯利医生
幸福的眼泪涌出她的眼眶，同时，她默默地祈祷：“感谢你，上帝。您的爱已经连结了人们的心灵和双手。”
Chance偶然
I am a cloud in the sky，
A chance shadow on the wave of your heart.
Don’t be surprised，
Or too elated；
In an instant I shall vanish without trace.
We meet on the sea of dark night，
You on your way， I on mine.
Remember if you will，
Or， better still， forget
The light exchanged in this encounter.
我是天空里的一片云
偶尔投影在你的波心
你不必讶异
更无须欢喜
在转瞬间消灭了踪影
你我相逢在黑夜的海上
你有你的，我有我的方向
你记得也好
最好你忘掉
在这交会时互放的光芒。
Beautiful Love Story美丽的爱情故事
If only we’d never gone there， thought Alan. They were scrambling up the mountainside in the late afternoon heat. Alice was so tanned that she looked as if she had lived on the Mediterranean for months， while he， being fair， had turned a blotchy， peeling.
He looked up at the mountainside， the path twisting upwards towards the cairn cross， the white heat bleaching the rock. Why on earth couldn’t they talk about it？ Why couldn’t he even accuse her？
He had thought it was going to be all right. But it was as if the heat had drained their love.
At home they had been so blissfully happy that he now realized it couldn’t have lasted. She comes to his school from the Midlands because her family had split up. An only child， living with her father， trying to look after him， lonely， depressed， anxious， she had come to Alan to be healed. At least， that’s what he liked to think. Had he healed her？ No. Tom had， even though Alan loved her with all the passion. Now his hatred for both of them was as strong as his love.
“Come on！” Alice had turned back to him， waving impatiently.
“Coming,” Alan looked at his watch. Five, the crickets would start singing soon. He walked on, the sweat pouring into his eyes. Knowing she had opened the bottle of mineral water. Would she let him catch up with her? An even greater misery seized him. It reminded him of the night he made himself drunk on the rough local wine his parents bought in the village. His heart had ached then, too, and his sense of loss had increased as he relived each minute of a day when Tom and Alice had seemed to draw closer and closer together.
He walked faster. Here, a few miles away on the bare mountainside, there was arid space, and the olive groves, clustered in the stone-cluttered valleys below.
“Come on!”
“Coming.”
Alan strode doggedly on, looking down at his red, peeling legs, thinking of Tom’s strong, straight, brown ones.
Suddenly he had turned the corner by the stone shelter. He could see her waiting for him. If Tom were here, they would be together, mocking him, looking at each other, leaving him alone. As he strode self-consciously on Alan focused his mind on her.
“Where’re we going to camp?” She was sitting on an outcrop, her slim body supple and salt-caked. Her legs were swinging and he longed to run his hands over them. Instead he imagined Tom doing that and hot, angry tears filled his eyes.
“Let’s go,” said Alan quickly.
“How far is it?” she asked. “I’m whacked.”
“Half an hour.”
“Can we eat them?” Her voice was a little plaintive. Alan noticed with satisfaction that she was becoming dependent on him again. But he knew that once they were off the mountain she would be with Tom. For a crazy moment he imagined Alice with himself living in the mountain valley together. Always. Trapped perhaps by some magical force that wouldn’t let them leave.
The monastery was square-roofed, austere，with barrack windows. There were fish tanks at the back and a terrace on which the monks would have walked.
Their feet on the stones made the only sound. Santa Caterina was utterly still. A swift rose soundlessly over the slate roof and the heat shimmered on the roughcast walls. They lay down, their rucksack still on their backs, passing the water bottle, almost dozing.
Suddenly she sat up and looked him with surprising tenderness. Alan’s black mood eased slightly.
“Have they all gone then?” asked Alice.
“Yes. I don’t know when. A long time ago.”
She was lying back, her eyes closed. He could talk to her now. They could both talk the problem and solve it. They would reach each other. But he couldn’t make the move.
“It would be terrible if it is pulled down,” Alice said idly, her eyes still closed.
“It won’t be.”
“How do you know that?”
“They patch it up from time to time.”
“Why don’t they live here?”
“Don’t know. Maybe it’s too remote.”
The desire to punish her had gone. But he daren’t touch her. He daren’t break the enchantment.
“The heat in the day. The cool evenings. It would be good to live like that.”
“Live here?”
“Could we ever get permission?”
“I don’t know.”
“Just to see what it was like. I mean—”She half sat up. “Can we get inside?” She ran a finger gently down his peeling cheek.
Alan was taken aback but then he became aware that the crickets had started. How long had they been singing? He wondered. “Let go and see.”
They tramped round but as Alan already knew, there was no way in. In the end they came back and he lit a fire at the side of a small stone building. Other campers had obviously used the space and there were black marks on the walls.
He cooked supper, using half a precious bottle of water to make it. The intimacy was still there but the talking was at an end. Alan could hardly contain his rising excitement. They had night together. Anything could happen.
Alan suddenly realized what he had to do. After supper, in the glow of the scented mountain twilight, he made coffee and they sat in silence. Darkness came slowly; the volume of the crickets seemed to increase. Still he had made no move.
She was lying in front of the fire, her body almost glowing. Alan reached out a hand and temporarily she took it. Then Alice yawned and stretched. “I’m turning in now,” she said.
“More coffee?” asked Alan miserably.
She kissed him on the forehead. “No thanks”
Had he ever loved his brother Tom? He must have done sometime. Certainly he had always been jealous of him as a child. He the introvert；Tom the extrovert. Alan thought about his introverted personality. He could see quite clearly how he had failed so dismally with Alice and how Tom had taken over so easily. Tom was what she wanted. She didn’t want what he had.
Gloomily, Alan climbed into the sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep. Beside him Alice slept, her breathing seeming to keep in time with the insistent beat of crickets.
Alan dreamt. The crickets had stopped. There was a slight breeze and the luminous hand of his watch registered just after two. Her sleeping bag was empty; Alice had gone. For a while he just couldn’t believe it. He sat up and felt the dark walls of Santa Caterina close in on him.
Then he was on the mountainside, stumbling blindly up the mountain path, hearing their laughter. Softly he crept up on them until he could see their bodies entwined. Alan’s anger rose to fever pitch and he rushed towards them. They fell apart. He sobbed as he had never sobbed since he was a child.
She woke him anxiously shaking at his sunburnt shoulders.
“What’s the matter？” she kept asking over and over again “Alan, what’s wrong?”
He stared up at her, blinking in the glow of the dying camp fire.
“Nothing,” he said automatically. “Nothing really.”
“But—”
“Just a bad dream, that’s all.”
“You were crying.” Her voice was soft, tender, just like she used to be.
Alan turned over in his sleeping bag. “I’m fine.” he said, “Let’s get some sleep.”
Alan woke with the early-morning sun gently warming his face. He sat up， his head muzzy with the dream， his cheeks salty， tear-stained. “You were crying.” Her voice came back to him and he winced. Alice had felt sorry for him and he instantly smothered， patronized. He broke into a sweat of agony and apprehension. How could he ever open up a discussion with her now？
He looked cautiously round her sleeping bag. It was empty and Alan froze. Then， gradually， he relaxed. It was just after eight and she had probably gone to find a place used as the loo. He waited， calmly， gloomily， and then anxiously as she did not appear. Hurriedly Alan struggled out of his sleeping bag and began to search the grounds of the monastery. But there was no sign of her at all.
Panic set in as Alan scoured the grounds again and drew a blank for the second time. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she had walked out on him and was probably climbing down to Tom. But rather than feeling anger， Alan simply felt desolate. She hadn’t even left him a note. He went over and touched the inside of her sleeping bag. It felt cold.
Surely she wouldn’t find her way back alone. Alan began to search again， this time through the tangled thickets of what might have been a herb garden. Something caught his eye. Lying on the ground was a small， shiny object. It was Alice’s bracelet.
Suddenly real fear clutched at him. Someone had come and abducted her. Or had Tom come to find her？ But the bracelet？
“Please God，” Alan muttered. “Let her be safe.” “Why hadn’t he looked after her？ Why hadn’t he been able to reassure her？ Alan now realized how he had locked himself into his own shell of rejection and jealousy. Tom no longer seemed a threat. All Alan wanted was Alice， and if only he could find her they would talk and talk and talk.”
For the fourth time he began to search the grounds， the bracelet in his hands. Then in a crevice on the broken stones of the terrace， he saw something bright and beady. Alice’s ring. And he knew how tight on her finger it was. Sweat ran down Alan’s face.
“Alice，” he cried out. “Alice！？” No response. Alan began to run.
It was only when he was back at the front door of the monastery that he realized there was one place he had not been to. His heart thumping and his throat dry， he went down the steps.
Now he ran eagerly forward， pushing his way through the foliage. He gave a gasp of relief. She was there， lying on the pine needles.
“Alice.”
She woke slowly， sleepily， stretching in the sun. “Sorry—I fell asleep.”
“Where the hell have you been？”
“I went for a walk.”
He held up the bracelet and the ring. “I found these.” He was angry， positive. She looked away. “Come on .Why did you do it？” I’ve been searching for you. I thought—I thought you’d been kidnapped or something. Been hurt？
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I laid a trail.”
“You did what？” He was outraged.
“I wanted you to find me.”
“I was terrified—I thought—”
“I’m sorry.” She stood up. “I suppose I wanted to frighten you.”
“Why？” He barked at her.
She looked away again. “I didn’t think you wanted me any more.”
“Wanted you？”
“You haven’t spoken to me. You seemed so cold. Indifferent somehow.”
“But it’s you who were indifferent.”
She looked genuinely amazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I thought you wanted Tom. Didn’t want to be with me.” His voice broke.
“I thought you found him—more fun.”
“Him？ Oh， he’s a baby. I was lonely， I suppose. You seemed so fed up with me. I didn’t realize it would —oh， Alan.” She got up and drew him to her， kissing him so hard on the lips. “You are such a bloody fool.” I love you—don’t you know？
“Why did you come here？” he asked.
“I was wandering about. I couldn’t sleep. Look—”She knelt down and stared at the Latin inscription on the two solitary graves. “Who are they？” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve often wondered. Dom Carols Fuenta—he’s definitely a monk. But the odd thing is that he’s buried alongside a woman.” He paused and then went on. “Maria Degardes. He was buried in 1892. She was in 1894.”
“Were they lovers？”
“I used to make up stories that they were.”
“I was just thinking. A silly thought. I expect you’ll laugh.”
“Try me.”
“Suppose we lived here for the rest of our lives and when we died we were buried here. But in one grave. Together.”
Alan took Alice’s face in his hands and kissed her on the lips.
阿兰心里想道：要是我们从未到过那个地方该多好啊。在下午后半晌的炎热中，他们向山坡上爬去。爱丽丝被晒得黑黝黝的，看上去就像在地中海上住过几个月似的；而阿兰原本细皮嫩肉，这时身上已经变得红一块白一块，脱了一层皮。
他抬头向山坡望去，只见小路盘旋而上通向那个圆锥形十字石碑，炽热的阳光将岩石晒得发白。他们究竟为什么不能谈那件事？他为什么连责骂她都不能呢？
他原以为一切都会好的，但好像酷热已经将他们的爱抽干。
在家时，他们曾是多么幸福。现在他意识到那不会再继续下去了。由于家庭破裂，她从内陆来到他的学校。作为独生女，她和她的父亲住在一起，尽力去照顾他。她孤独无依、无精打采、愁眉苦脸，经常到阿兰那里去排除忧伤。至少他喜欢这样认为。他为她解忧了吗？没有。是汤姆，即使阿兰曾付出所有的激情爱着她。如今他对他们俩的爱就像他的恨一样强烈。
“跟上！”爱丽丝转身向他喊，不耐烦地挥着手。
“来了。”阿兰看了看手表。已经5点了。蛐蛐儿马上就要开始鸣唱了。他继续向上走，汗水源源不断地流到了眼里。他知道她已经打开那瓶矿泉水。她会让他跟上她吗？一种更大的痛苦折磨着他。这使他想起那天晚上他用父母亲从村里买的粗制的当地酒将自己灌醉的情景，那时他的心也在发痛。每当他想起爱丽丝和汤姆越来越亲近的时候，他的失落感就会俱增。
他走得越来越快。他为山顶上那些中世纪的城堡而欢呼雀跃。放眼望去，离那座山几里远的地方有一块空地，在山谷的乱石丛中生长着一小片橄榄林。
“跟上！”
“来了。”
阿兰仍顽强地大步前行，他低头看了一眼自己被晒红的、脱了皮的两腿，想起了汤姆强健挺拔的棕色的双腿。
突然，他拐到石头后面一块隐蔽的地方。他看到她正在等他。如果汤姆也在这里的话，他们一定会站在一起嘲笑他，相互凝望着，把他丢在一边。当他拘谨地向前走的时候，他将注意力都集中在她的身上。
“我们到哪里去宿营？”她坐在一块突出的岩石上。她的苗条的身材丰满，咸咸的。她的腿在那里晃来晃去。他真想将自己的手在那上面滑动。而他却想象着汤姆那样做的情景。顿时，愤怒的泪水充满了他的眼睛。
“我们走吧，”阿兰飞快地说。
“还有多远？”她问，“我一点劲儿也没有了。”
“半小时。”
“我们能吃点东西吗？”她的声音有点儿伤感。阿兰心满意足，注意到她正在再次依靠他。但他知道一旦他们离开这座大山，她就会和汤姆泡在一起。一时间，他竟荒唐地想象着爱丽丝和自己一起居住在这个山谷，直到永远。或许是被某种魔力困在这里，不让他们离开。
那座庙是方顶、木窗，十分简朴。庙后面有一些鱼缸，还有一个平台，和尚可以在上面随意走动。
四周只有他们踏在石头上所发出的声响，圣卡塔林纳万籁俱寂。一朵怒放的玫瑰在石板屋顶无声无息，亮光在粗糙的墙壁上闪烁。他们躺下来，递过水瓶，旅行包仍背在背后。他们几乎昏昏欲睡。
突然，她坐起来，用令人吃惊的温柔目光凝视着他。阿兰的难受情绪稍微得到了缓解。
“他们都已经走了吗？”爱丽丝问道。
“是的。我不知道是什么时候走的。好长时间了吧。”
她仰面躺着，双目紧闭。他现在可以和她谈了。他们俩谈谈那个问题，然后就迎刃而解了。他们彼此都能探到对方，但他不能动。
“如果庙被推倒，那将是多么可怕，”爱丽丝懒懒地说，眼睛仍然闭着。
“不会的。”
“你怎么知道？”
“他们总是不断地修缮它。”
“他们为什么不住在这里呢？”
“不知道，或许这里太偏远了吧。”
渐渐地，想惩罚她的欲望消失了，但他不敢触摸她，不敢轻易打破这令人着迷的时刻。
“白天热，夜里凉。住在这种地方会很不错的。”
“住在这里？”
“我们会被允许吗？”
“我不知道。”
“先看看这里怎么样，我是说——” 她半坐了起来。“我们能进去吗？”她将一根手指轻轻地放在他脱皮的脸颊上。
他吃了一惊，随后意识到蛐蛐儿的鸣叫声已经响起。他不知道它们已经鸣唱了多长时间。“让我们去看看吧。”
他们绕过去，但正如阿兰早就知道的那样，无路可进。最后，他们又原路返回，在一座小型石头建筑旁生了一堆火。显然，其他野营的人也曾使用过这个地方，墙壁上还留有黑色的痕迹。
他晚饭用去了半瓶珍贵的水，亲密关系依旧存在，但他们已经无话可说。阿兰几乎难以按捺那正在膨胀的冲动。他们一起拥有这个夜晚，任何事情都可能会发生。
阿兰突然意识到他必须得做些什么了。晚饭后，在芳香弥漫的大山的幽光中，他煮了咖啡，他们默默地坐在一起。夜幕慢慢地降临；蛐蛐儿的音量好像升高了。他仍没有行动。
她躺在火堆前，身上闪闪发光。阿兰伸出一只手，她暂时握住了他的手。接着，爱丽丝打哈欠，伸展身体。“我现在要睡觉了，”她说。
“再来点咖啡？”阿兰痛苦地问道。
她在他的前额上吻了吻。“不，谢谢。”
他爱他的弟弟汤姆吗？有时他肯定爱，当然他总是忌妒弟弟，像一个小孩子。对他们俩来说，他性格内向，汤姆性格外向。阿兰想着自己内向的性格。他十分清楚自己如何在爱丽丝身上败得这么惨，而汤姆又是如何轻而易举便得到了她。汤姆正是她需要的那号人，她并不需要他这种人。
阿兰闷闷不乐地钻进自己的睡袋，渐渐地进入了梦乡。躺在他身旁的爱丽丝也睡着了，她的呼吸声似乎和蛐蛐儿的鸣叫声保持同步。
阿兰做了一个梦。蛐蛐声都停止了。一阵微风拂过。他的手表上的夜光针刚过了两点。爱丽丝的睡袋空了，她已经走了。好一阵子，他都无法相信这个事实。他坐起来，感到圣卡塔林纳的黑黢黢的墙壁将他团团围住了。
随后，他来到山边，踉踉跄跄地沿着山路盲目前行。听见他们的朗朗笑声，他轻轻地爬过去，看到两个身体紧紧地贴在一块。他感到痛苦万分，怒不可遏地冲向他们。他们猛地分开了。他低声啜泣，尽管他从孩提时起就从来没有哭过。
她焦急地摇着他被太阳晒黑的肩膀，唤醒了他。
“发生了什么事？”她一遍又一遍地问，“阿兰，怎么了？”
他抬眼盯着她，在篝火的余光中眨着眼睛。
“没什么，”他不由自主地说。“真的没什么。”
“可是——”
“只是做了一个恶梦，仅此而已。”
“你刚才在哭，”她的声音像过去那样温柔和气。
阿兰在睡袋里翻了一下身，背对着她说：“我很好，我们再睡一会儿吧！”
阿兰醒来时，晨阳暖暖地照在他的脸上。他满脸泪痕，咸咸的。他坐起来，脑海里还懵懵懂懂地萦绕着那个梦。“你刚才在哭，”她的声音又传了过来。他退缩了一下。爱丽丝已经感到对不起他了。他立即感到很压抑。由于巨大的悲痛和忧伤，猛地出了一身冷汗。现在他将怎样和她展开一场讨论呢？
他小心翼翼地看了看她的睡袋，睡袋已经空了。阿兰一下子僵住了。随后，渐渐地，他又放松了。现在刚过8点，她也许是找地方方便去了。他平静地、忧郁地等待着，而后还是不见她回来，就心急火燎起来。阿兰慌忙从睡袋里挣扎出来，开始在寺院里四处寻找。但踪迹皆无。
当阿兰再次惊慌失措四处寻找仍然一无所获的时候，显然她已经不辞而别，很可能是下山找汤姆去了。阿兰感到的与其说是生气，倒不如说孤独。她甚至连一张纸也没有给他留下。他走过去将手伸进她的睡袋，里面冷冰冰的。
她肯定无法独自找到回路。阿兰又开始找起来。这一次通过杂草丛生的灌木丛。某个东西引起了他的注意。躺在地上的是一个小小的、光亮的东西。那是爱丽丝的手镯。
突然，一种真正的恐惧袭上他的心头，一定是有人拐走了她，或者是汤姆来找她的？可是，手镯又怎么讲呢？
“求求你，上帝，”阿兰喃喃道，“保佑她平安。”为什么他没有照顾她？为什么也没有安慰她？现在阿兰才意识到他以前是如何将自己锁进一个妒忌和沮丧的空壳里。汤姆看起来似乎不再是一种威胁。阿兰所想的全都是爱丽丝，只要能找到她，他们就会倾心长谈。
他开始第四次在地上寻找，千里拿着那只手镯，随后在一排房屋堆砌的石头缝里，他看见一件东西在发光——是爱丽丝的戒指，而且他知道那是紧紧地戴在她的手上的呀。阿兰的汗从脸上流了下来。
“爱丽丝，”他喊道，“爱丽丝！”没有回音。阿兰开始跑了起来。
正当他惊恐地返回到那座庙的前门时，他意识到还有一个地方他没有去找。他的心砰砰直跳，嗓子发干。他走下台阶。
他急不可待地跑上前，推开树叶，看到她在那里，躺在松叶上，心里松了一口气。
“爱丽丝。”
她慢慢地醒来了，睡眼朦朦地在太阳下伸伸懒腰。“对不起——我睡着了。”
“你究竟到哪里去了？”
“我出去走了走。”
他举起手镯和戒指。“我找到了这些东西。”他很生气，这一点是肯定的。她转移了视线。“得了吧，你为什么这样做？我一直在找你，我还以为——我还以为你被绑架或者别的什么了呢。受到了什么伤害了吗？”
“对不起。”
“说‘对不起’就够了。”
“我留有痕迹。”
“你到底做了什么呀？”他怒气冲冲的。
“我想让你找我。”
“我当时很害怕——我还以为——”
“对不起，”她站起来。“我想我原来只想吓唬吓唬你。”
“为什么？”他大声问道。
她又一次转移了目光。“我还以为你不会再要我了呢。”
“要你？”
“你没有对我说过，你似乎很冷淡，在某种程度上无动于衷。”
“可无动于衷的是你。”
她看上去真的很吃惊。“我真不知道你在说什么。”
“我还以为你想要汤姆，不想和我在一块哩。”他的声音沙哑。
“我还以为你找他——开心去了呢。”
“他？噢，他还是一个小毛孩子。我很孤独，我想，你好像很烦我，我没有意识到那么——噢，阿兰。”她站起来，将他拉向自己，深深地吻起了他的嘴唇。“你真是个大傻瓜。我爱你——难道你不知道吗？”
“你怎么来到这了？”他问道。
“我是随便走走。我睡不着。瞧——”她跪下来，盯着前面的两座孤坟的拉丁碑文问道：“他们是什么人？”
“我不知道。我也总是想知道。多姆·卡罗斯·福恩塔——他肯定是一个和尚，但奇怪的是，他和一个女人葬在一起。”他暂停了一下，然后接着说道：“玛丽姬·德加斯。他葬于1892年，而她葬于1894年。”
“他们是情人吗？”
“我过去经常想给他们编编故事。”
“我刚才在想。是一个愚蠢的想法，我想你会笑我的。”
“说说看。”
“假如我们今后生活在这里，我们死后就埋在这里，但要在一块，合葬。”
阿兰双手捧起爱丽丝的脸，在她的嘴唇上亲吻起来。
A Time Of Giving And Sharing一个奉献和分享的时刻
The Christmas season， a time of celebration and sharing， is filled with joy， laughter， light and music. It is a celebration of the birth of Christ， partly as an expression of Christian beliefs around the World， but more so， as a time of giving and sharing for all.
With the frenzied pace of commerce and communication in the 21st century， the Christmas season is often reduced to a ritual of rushing to retail stores and the Internet to purchase last-minute gifts for relatives， friends and co-workers， to make sure that everyone on one’s gift list is accounted for. However， such commercialism distracts from the true meaning of Christmas， which is really to celebrate a gift to humankind—the gift of an Enlightened Being who gave hope and salvation to the world over 2000 years ago.
I can remember as a child in church seeing the assembly of choirboys with their lit candles singing Christmas carols in melodious voices， which sent me to celestial realms. Their voices were so pure and beautiful that they made my spirit soar to the heavens， and their candle flames danced in the darkness like little “spirit lights，” as the atmosphere was filled with joyful celebration. This is what Christmas meant for me—a highly uplifting celebration of spirituality.
For each of us， the Christmas season may have different meanings， perhaps a vacation from work， a time to connect with family， a rushed flight to get closer to loved ones or a reminder to go shopping. Whatever the case may be， I always like to remember the good feeling the holiday brought me as a child， and try to maintain the original spirit of Christmas by making it a time of celebration， joy， giving and sharing. For example， many times I have tried to bring happiness during the holiday season by joining a group to sing Christmas carols for the sick and elderly. At times I have also done singing from door to door to bring cheer to families. Any small act that can uplift others’ spirits is more meaningful than an expensive gift.
圣诞节是个充满喜悦、欢笑、光亮与歌声的时节，也是一个值得庆祝与分享的时刻。对于世界各地的部份基督徒而言，圣诞节主要是为了庆祝耶稣基督的诞生，然而，对所有世人来说，圣诞节应该是一个奉献和分享的时刻。
可惜的是，生活在匆忙、商业化且资讯化的二十一世纪的人类，已逐渐忘了圣诞节的真正意义，圣诞节的送礼行为演变成一种例行公事，有些人往往赶在最后一分钟冲到商店挑选礼物或匆促上网采购，然后分送给亲朋好友，这种过节方式已完全失去了圣诞节的真义。实际上圣诞节是为了欢庆并感谢上天赐给人类一份最大的“礼物”——两千多年前，一位开悟的圣人为人们带来生命的希望及灵魂的救赎。
我还记得小时候，教堂里唱诗班的男孩手捧着蜡烛，以优美悦耳的嗓音唱着赞美诗，将人们的心灵提升至天堂的境界。他们的歌声纯净优美，令人感到心灵升华，烛光在黑暗中摇曳，仿如小小的“圣灵之光”，四周洋溢着喜庆的气氛，这才是我心目中真正的圣诞节，这种庆祝方式具有提升灵性的作用。
圣诞节对每个人可能都有不同的意义：对某些人而言，这只是一个不用上班的假日或是与家人联系感情的日子；有的人则利用这个时候赶去和爱人相聚，或上街购物等等。不管情况怎么样，我一直都很喜欢小时候那种美好的感觉，并尽量保留圣诞节原有的精神：一个充满喜庆、奉献和分享的时刻。例如有很多年的圣诞节，我参加了唱诗班，唱圣诞颂歌给病患与老人听，将欢乐带给他们；有时候，我们也会挨家挨户地唱圣歌，让许多家庭感受到欢欣鼓舞的气氛。任何小小的爱心行动，都可以带欢乐给别人，这比赠送昂贵的礼物更具有意义。
Love in Bloom 爱如鲜花盛开
I was nine when my father first sent me flowers. I had been taking tap dancing lessons for six months， and the school was giving its yearly recital. As an excited member of the beginners’ chorus line， I was aware of my lowly status.
So it was a surprise to have my name called out at the end of the show along with the lead dancers and to find my arms full of long-stemmed red roses. I can still feel myself standing on that stage， blushing furiously and gazing over the footlights to see my father’s grin as he applauded loudly.
Those roses were the first in a series of large bouquets that accompanied all the milestones in my life. They brought a sense of embarrassment. I enjoyed them， but was flustered by the extravagance.
Not my father. He did everything in a big way. If you sent him to the bakery for a cake， he came back with three. Once， when Mother told him I needed a new party dress， he brought home a dozen.
His behavior often left us without funds for other more important things. After the dress incident， there was no money for the winter coat I really needed——or the new ice skates I wanted.
Sometimes I would be angry with him， but not for long. Inevitably he would buy me something to make up with me. The gift was so apparently an offering of love he could not verbalize that I would throw my arms around him and kiss him—an act that undoubtedly perpetuated his behavior.
Then came my 16th birthday. It was not a happy occasion. I was fat and had no boyfriend. And my well-meaning parents furthered my misery by giving me a party. As I entered the dining room， there on the table next to my cake was a huge bouquet of flowers， bigger than any before.
I wanted to hide. Now everyone would think my father had sent flowers because I had no boyfriend to do it. Sweet 16， but I felt like crying. I probably would have， but my best friend， Phyllis， whispered， “Boy， you’re lucky to have a father like that.
As the years passed， other occasions—birthdays， recitals， awards， graduations—were marked with Dad’s flowers. My emotions continued to seesaw between pleasure and embarrassment.
When I graduated from college， though， my days of ambivalence were over. I was embarking on a new career and was engaged to be married. Dad’s flowers symbolized his pride， and my triumph. They evoked only great pleasure.
Now there were bright-orange mums for Thanksgiving and a huge pink poinsettia at Christmas. White lilies at Easter， and velvety red roses for birthdays. Seasonal flowers in mixed bouquets celebrated the births of my children and the move to our first house.
As my fortunes grew， my father’s waned， but his gifts of flowers continued until he died of a heart attack a few months before his 70th birthday. Without embarrassment， I covered his coffin with the largest， reddest roses I could find.
Often in the dozen years since， I felt an urge to go out and buy a big bouquet to fill the living room， but I never did. Often in the dozen years since， I felt an urge to go out and buy a big bouquet to fill the living room， but I never did. I knew it would not be the same.
Then one birthday， the doorbell rang. I was feeling blue because I was alone. My husband was playing golf， and my two daughters were away. My 13-year-old son Matt， had run out earlier with a “see you later”， never mentioning my birthday. So I was surprised to see his large frame at the door. “Forgot my key，” he said， shrugging. “Forgot your birthday too. Well， I hope you like flowers， Mum.” He pulled a bunch of daisies from behind his back.
“Oh， Matt，” I cried， hugging him hard. “I love flowers！”
父亲第一次给我送花是在我九岁那年。当时，我加入学校踢踏舞班才学了六个月，正逢学校举办一年一度的演出。我只能编入新学员合唱队，却依然兴致勃勃。不过我清楚自己只是个不起眼的小角色。
可演出一结束，我竟与主舞的演员一起给喊到前台，双手捧着一束枝繁叶茂的红玫瑰。我至今还感觉得到自己站在舞台上的情景，双颊绯红，越过绚丽的脚灯光线向下张望，看见的竟是父亲的笑脸，他一面使劲地鼓掌，一面快活地笑着。
这束鲜花是第一束，往后，每逢我人生一个里程碑，父亲都要送我一大束鲜花。可收到那些鲜花，我的心情总是很矛盾：既高兴，又有些不自在。我喜爱鲜花，可又为这种奢侈而不安。
父亲却从不会觉得不安，他做什么事都大方得很。你若让他去糕点铺买一块蛋糕，他定会买来三块。一次，母亲对他说我需要一条新舞裙，他竟买回一打。
他这么做常常使我们没有钱再去添置其它更需要的东西。那次他买回一打舞裙后，就再也没钱去买我真正急需的冬大衣和我一直向往的新溜冰鞋。
有时我会为这些事跟父亲赌气，但时间都不会长。每次他必定会给我买些礼物与我和好。这礼物显然传达着他不善用言辞表达的爱。这时我便会搂住父亲，吻他——这亲昵的行为无疑会使他再度大方。
后来我迎来了16岁生日，可我并不快活。我长得胖，那时还没有男朋友。好心的父母为我准备了个生日晚会，可这更让我觉得难受。我走进餐厅，看见餐桌上生日蛋糕旁边，摆着很大一束鲜花，比以往的都要大。
我真想找个地缝钻进去，这下谁都会以为我没有男朋友送花，只好由父亲来送了。16岁该是最甜蜜的，我却只想哭。或许当时我的确哭了，但我最好的朋友菲利斯在我耳边小声说：“嘿，你有这样的父亲可真幸运。”
随着光阴流逝，许多特别的日子，像生日、演出、获奖、毕业，都会伴有父亲的鲜花。我的心情也依然在高兴与不自在之间摇摆不定。
可到我大学毕业时，那种矛盾的心情消失了。我开始了新的工作，也订了婚。父亲的鲜花代表了他的骄傲和我的胜利。它们带来的只有极大的喜悦。
后来每逢感恩节我们都会收到父亲的一捧黄灿灿的菊花；圣诞节会有一大束粉红的一品红；复活节是洁白的百合花；生日里会有天鹅绒般的红玫瑰；孩子出世或逢乔迁之喜，父亲会送来那个季节里盛开的许多种鲜花扎成的花束。
随着我不断功成名就，父亲却日渐衰老，但他依然坚持给我送花，直到他70岁生日的前几个月，因心脏病发作而瘁然逝去。我在他的棺木上铺满了我所能寻得的最红最艳最大的玫瑰花，而且，没有一丝不自在。
往后的十二年中，我常常有一股冲动，想去买一大束鲜花装点起居室，可始终没去。我知道，即便买来，花也已不是从前的花了。
后来有一天我生日，我听见门铃响了。那天，我本来很沮丧，因为只有我一人呆在家中。丈夫打高尔夫球去了，两个女儿出远门了，13岁的儿子马特也走得格外早，只道了声“再见”，只字未提我的生日。所以当我开门看见马特胖胖的身体站在门边，有几分惊讶，他耸耸肩，说道：“忘带钥匙了，也忘了今天是你生日，嗯，我希望你喜欢鲜花，妈妈。”说着，他从背后抽出一束雏菊。
“哦，马特，”我大叫一声，紧紧搂住他，“我爱鲜花。”
To The Oak？致橡树
If I love you—
I’ll never be a clinging flower
Resplendent in borrowed glory on your high boughs；
If I love you—
I’ll never mimic the silly infatuated birds
Repeating the same monotonous song for green shade；
Or be like a spring
Offering cool comfort all year long ；
Or a lofty peak
Enhancing your stature， your eminence.
Even the sunlight，
Even spring rain ，
None of these suffice！
I must be a kapok ， the image of
A tree standing together with you ；
Our roots closely intertwined beneath the earth ，
Our leaves touching in the clouds.
With even whiff of wind
We greet each other
Bu no one can
Understand our words.
You’ll have bronze limbs and iron trunk ，
Like knives， swords
And halberds
I’ll have my crimson flowers
Like sighs ， heavy and deep ，
Like heroic torches ，
Together we’ll sharethe cold tided waves， storms ， and thunderbolts；
Together we’ll share？the light mist ， the colored rainbows ；
We shall always depend on each other.
Only this can be called great love.
Wherein lies the faith， true and deep.
I love not only your stateliness
But also your firm stand， the earth beneath you.
我如果爱你——
绝不像攀援的凌霄花，
借你的高枝炫耀自己：
我如果爱你——
绝不学痴情的鸟儿，
为绿荫重复单调的歌曲；
也不止像泉源，
常年送来清凉的慰籍；
也不止像险峰，
增加你的高度，衬托你的威仪。
甚至日光。
甚至春雨。
不，这些都还不够！
我必须是你近旁的一株木棉，
做为树的形象和你站在一起。
根，紧握在地下，
叶，相触在云里。
每一阵风过，
我们都互相致意，
但没有人
听懂我们的言语。
你有你的铜枝铁干，
像刀，像剑，
也像戟，
我有我的红硕花朵，
像沉重的叹息，
又像英勇的火炬，
我们分担寒潮、风雷、霹雳；
我们共享雾霭流岚、虹霓，
仿佛永远分离，却又终身相依，
这才是伟大的爱情，
坚贞就在这里：
不仅爱你伟岸的身躯，
也爱你坚持的位置，脚下的土地。
What Does Love Mean爱的诠释
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds： “What does love mean？” The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think.
“When my grandmother got arthritis， she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time， even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.” — Rebecca， age 8
“When someone loves you， the way they say your name is different. “You know that your name is safe in their mouth.” — Billy， age 4
“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” — Chris， age 6
“Love is when someone hurts you. And you get so mad but you don’t yell at them because you know it would hurt their feelings.” — Samantha， age 6
“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.” — Terri， age 4
“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him， to make sure the taste is OK.” — Danny， age 7
“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” — Bobby， age 5
“Love is hugging. Love is kissing. Love is saying no.” — Patty， age 8
“When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you’re scared they won’t love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only do they still love you， they love you even more.” — Matthew， age 7
“There are two kinds of love. Our love. God’s love. But God makes both kinds of them.” — Jenny， age 4
“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it everyday.” — Noelle， age 7
“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” — Tommy， age 6
“During my piano recital， I was on a stage and scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.” — Cindy， age 8
“My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” — Clare， age 5
“Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.” — Chris， age 8
“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.” — Mary Ann， age 4
“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.” — Lauren， age 4
“When you love somebody， your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” — Karen， age 7
“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it， you should say it a lot. People forget.” — Jessica， age 8
一组专业人士向一群4－8岁的儿童提出一个问题：“爱是什么？”得到的答案比其他人所能想到的还广还深。看看这些答案，你能想到什么。
“我的祖母患了关节炎无法弯下腰涂指甲油，因此一直都是我的祖父帮她做这件事，即使他的手也患上了关节炎。这就是爱。”——丽贝卡（8岁）
“如果有人爱你，那么你的名字对他来说与众不同。而且你知道他们永远不会把你的秘密说出去。”——比利（4岁）
“爱是当你出去吃饭时，把你大部分的炸薯条都给他们，而不需要他们把自己盘子里的东西给你。”——克莉丝（6岁）
“爱是虽然他把你气得发疯，你也不会对他喊叫，因为你怕伤害了他的感情。”——萨曼塔（6岁）
“爱是当你疲倦时让你发笑的东西。”——特里（4岁）
“爱是我妈妈为我爸爸煮咖啡，再递给他之前都要尝一口，试试味道是否很好。”——丹尼（7岁）
“爱是在圣诞节，和你呆在同一个房间，你会停止拆礼物而去听他们说些什么。”——博比（5岁）
“爱是拥抱，爱是亲吻，爱要懂得拒绝。”——帕蒂（8岁）
“当你告诉他们你做的坏事后害怕他们会不再爱你，但却发现他们不但还爱你，而且更爱你了。”——马修（7岁）
“有两种爱。我们的爱和上帝的爱，但这两种爱都是上帝所赋予的。”——詹妮（4岁）
“爱是当你告诉一个男孩你喜欢他的这件衬衫，他就天天穿着它。”——诺艾尔（7岁）
“爱就像一位小老太和一位小老头，即使他们彼此非常熟悉但仍然是朋友。”——汤米（6岁）
“在我的钢琴独奏会上，我正在后台准备，心里非常害怕。我看了看台下那些盯着我的人，发现我爸爸向我招手并冲我微笑，他是惟一这么做的人，我不再害怕了。”——辛迪（8岁）
“我妈妈爱我胜过任何人，你不会看到其他人临睡前给我晚安吻。”——克莱尔（5岁）
“爱是当妈妈看见爸爸浑身汗臭、满身大汗的时候仍然说他比罗伯特·莱福德还帅。”——克莉丝（8岁）
“爱是即使你把你的小狗孤零零扔在家一天，他还会添你的脸。”——玛丽·安（4岁）
“我的姐姐很爱我，因为她把所有的旧衣服都给了我，自己还得再去买新的。”——劳伦（4岁）
“如果你爱某人，你的眼睫毛会上下地跳来跳去，小星星就从你身上出来了。”——卡伦（7岁）
“你不要说‘我爱你’，除非你明白爱是什么。但要是你明白了，你必须经常说。人们却总忘记。”——杰西卡（8岁）
Living A Life Of Love让生活充满爱
The key to living a life of love， peace and prosperity is to live from your Heart.
When you live from your Heart， you feel full， rich， and life seems to flow effortlessly. You feel in control， confident， connected to your life’s purpose. You feel Joy and deep inner Peace. You feel Alive！
When love radiates from your Heart you feel vibrant， energized and blissful. The feeling of being on purpose inspires you to new heights... some you never dreamed possible.
Living from Your Heart keeps you focused on what is most important to you in your life. You move from focusing on conflict to re-focusing on what is most important to you...Your Deepest Heart’s Desires.
In your Heart holds the secret to true happiness. The Secret is Love. Love is the tender expression of the Heart... an expression we all long to feel deep within.
Whether you know it or not， one of the most important relationships in your life is with your Soul. Be kind and loving to your Soul， and use all of your experiences as opportunities to nourish your Soul！
让生活充满爱和安宁并且感觉富足的关键是真心实意地生活。
如果你真心实意地生活，就能感觉到心满意足，生活似乎总是称心如意的。你能掌握命运、充满自信并且实现目标。你能感受到内心的喜悦与宁静。你是那么活力充沛！
发自内心的爱让你觉得充满活力、精神焕发和幸福无比。这种感觉能激发你的灵感，攀升生活的高度……这是你以前从没想到过的。
真心实意地生活让你关注在你生命中最重要的东西。这样你的视线便逐渐远离纷争，转向对你而言更为重要的事情……你那内心深处的渴望。
你的心中埋藏着幸福的秘密。这个秘密就是爱。爱是心灵柔软的一种表达，是我们都渴望体会深层感情的一种表达。
无论你知道与否，你生命中其中一种最重要的关系就是你与心灵的关系。关爱你的心灵，并把你所有的经历，全部的经历，当作滋养心灵的机会。
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