学习啦【英语美文欣赏】 焯杰时间：2017-08-02 15:07:42我要投稿
I’ve learned that sometimes all a person need is a hand to hold and a heart to understand .
I’ve learned that the Lord didn’t do it all in one day .What makes me think I can?
I’ve learned that love ,not time ,heals all wounds .
I’ve learned that every one you meet deserves to be greeted with a smile.
I’ve learned that there’s nothing sweeter than sleeping with your babies and feeling their breath on your cheeks .
I’ve learned that on one is perfect until you fall in love with them .
I’ve learned that opportunities are never lost ;someone will take the ones you miss .
I’ve learned that when you harbor bitterness ,happiness will dock elsewhere .
I’ve learned that I wish I could have told my Mom that I love her one more time before she passed away .
I’ve learned that one should keep his words both soft and tender ,because tomorrow he may have ti eat them .
I’ve learned that a smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks .
I’ve learned that I can’t choose how I feel ,but I can choose what I do about it .
I’ve learned that everyone wants to stand on top of the mountain ,but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it .
I’ve learned that it is best to give advice in only two circumstances :when it is requested and when it is a life___threatening situation .
I’ve learned that the less time I have to work with ,the more things I get done .
The art of living is to know when to hold fast and when to let go. For life is a paradox: it enjoins us to cling to its many gifts even while it ordains their eventual relinquishment. The rabbis of old put it this way: “A man comes to this world with his fist clenched, but when he dies, his hand is open.”
Surely we ought to hold fast to life, for it is wondrous, and full of a beauty that breaks through every pore of God’s own earth. We know that this is so, but all too often we recognize this truth only in our backward glance when we remember what was and then suddenly realize that it is no more.
We remember a beauty that faded, a love that waned. But we remember with far greater pain that we did not see that beauty when it flowered, that we failed to respond with love when it was tendered.
Here then is the first pole of life’s paradoxical demands on us: Never too busy for the wonder and the awe of life. Be reverent before each dawning day. Embrace each hour. Seize each golden minute.
Hold fast to life... but not so fast that you cannot let go. This is the second side of life’s coin, the opposite pole of its paradox: we must accept our losses, and learn how to let go.
This is not an easy lesson to learn, especially when we are young and think that the world is ours to command, that whatever we desire with the full force of our passionate being can, nay, will, be ours. But then life moves along to confront us with realities, and slowly but surely this truth dawns upon us.
At every stage of life we sustain losses—and grow in the process. We begin our independent lives only when we emerge from the womb and lose its protective shelter. We enter a progression of schools, then we leave our mothers and fathers and our childhood homes. We get married and have children and then have to let them go. We confront the death of our parents and our spouses. We face the gradual or not so gradual waning of our strength. And ultimately, as the parable of the open and closed hand suggests, we must confront the inevitability of our own demise, losing ourselves as it were, all that we were or dreamed to be.
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked.
When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.
Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome except for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music.
"But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician... "Could nothing be done?"
"I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided. So the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.
Two years went by.Then, "You're going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret." said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.
Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "but I must know," he asked his father, "Who gave me the ears? Who gave me so much? I could never do enough for him."
"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come. One of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish brown hair to reveal taht the mother had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," his father whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"