時間~~
時間是一種很奇怪的東西
時間會使一個人變的很陌生
時間會使一個人的個性改變
時間是愛情的天敵
時間是友誼的天敵
距離 ~
距離是一種很可怕的東西
距離是考驗愛情的東西
距離是考驗友誼的東西
距離會使人思念
距離會使人陌生
感情 ~
感情是一種很神奇的東西
感情會使一個人不顧一切
感情會使一個人迷失方向
感情是人類的弱點
感情是人類的優點
幸福 ~
幸福 看不到
幸福 聽不到
幸福 觸摸不到
幸福 是Feeling
幸福 是Enjoy
幸福是 你深愛的人,也深愛著你
幸福是 想睡,不必擔心起床時間
幸福是 吃到最想吃的東西
幸福是 來到最想去的地方
幸福是 聽到最想聽的音樂
幸福是 想獨處時,沒人打擾
幸福是 跌倒了,又爬起來
幸福是 和朋友、情人有說不完的話
幸福是 雖非富有,但生活不愁匱乏
幸福是 寒流來襲時,把冰冷的腳放在情人的暖暖肚皮上
幸福是 炙熱太陽下,有一大片清涼的西瓜吃
幸福是 與最愛的人共賞明月
幸福是 永遠有讀不完愛讀的書
幸福是 自己感到被幸福包圍
感谢伤害你既人，因为他磨练了你既心志。
感谢欺骗你既人，因为他增进了你既智慧。
感谢中伤你既人，因为他砥砺了你既人格。
感谢鞭打你既人，因为他激发了你既斗志。
感谢遗弃你既人，因为他教化了你既独立。
感谢绊倒你既人，因为他强化了你既双腿。
感谢指责你既人，因为他提醒了你既缺点。
感谢所有使你更坚强既人！
Sometimes really wonder why that feelings comes and it goes away sometime.
the feeling of having someone by your side and let someone to leave you alone...
| The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said. "It's a what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson." "Mine's Wendy... I'm six." "Hi, Wendy." She giggled. "You're funny". In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day." After a few days of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. "Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "I don't know, you say." "How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at Home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child? "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and--oh, go away!" "Did it hurt?" she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. "Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was." "Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies." "Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. "Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. "She loved this beach so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you ... if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love. NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is shared with many and now I share it with you. May God Bless everyone that receives this! There are NO coincidences ! everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us ! |
Here are some points to ponder
Our job is not to see through one another, But to see one anotherthrough.
One of the most difficult things to give away is kindness - It isusually returned.
When we are hurt, there is no sweeter revenge than to forgive.
Those at war with others are seldom at peace with themselves.
For every minute you are angry, you lose 60 seconds of happiness.
The best mirror is an old friend.
Don't marry someone that you can just live with .Instead, marrysomeone that you can't live without.
As we advance in life, we learn the limits of our abilities.
Positive anything is better than negative nothing.
Chances makes our parents. Choices makes our friends.
Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.
This story won the Commonwealth prize (chosen out of 52,000 entries from 50countries.. It was written by a secondary 3 student in Raffles Institution,Singapore.. It's definitely worth a read...so take your time and enjoy
What the modern woman wants
THE old woman sat in the back seat of the magenta convertible as it careeneddown the highway, clutching tightly the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it mightbe kidnapped by the wind.
She was not used to such speed. With trembling hands she pulled the seat belttighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callousedfingers. Her daughter had warned her not to dirty it: 'Fingerprints show veryclearly on white, Ma.'
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobilephone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance','liquidation', 'assets', 'investments'. Her voice was crisp and important andhad an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreigngirls on television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old ladyclucked her tongue in disapproval.
'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimedagitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicuredfingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut andhurled it angrily towards the back seat. The mobile phone hit the old woman onthe forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up andhanded it to her daughter.
'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretense and switching to Mandarin.'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems.' The oldlady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view mirror, wondering what she wasthinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same crypticlook. The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune,which broke the awkward silence.
'Hello Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.'
Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered herdaughter telling her how an English name was very important for 'networking',Chinese ones being easily forgotten.
'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the Ancient Relic tothe temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'
Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Herdaughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'
The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag indefence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almostgarish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman got outof the back seat and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughterstepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied herlipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.
'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, notbothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.
The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick. She knelt downsolemnly and whispered her now-familiar daily prayer to the gods.
'Thank you, God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years.Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman inthis world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maidto help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has beenblessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh (dialect for Caucasianman).
'Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what shesays. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything excepthappiness.
'I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots whilereaping the harvest of success.
'What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a roomin her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because Iaffect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her oldmother. It is my fault.'
The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes.
Finally, with her head bowed in reverence, she planted the half-burnt jossstick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for 32 years. When her abdomenwas round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.
Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling andadorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably a girl.
Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who couldnot work or carry the family name.
Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to herwaist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everythingshe ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter wouldnever have to depend on a man.
She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman thatshe, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the abilityto do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the heartsof men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out andmen would listen.
She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow upand drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood. Shewatched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her,calling her laotu (old-fashioned in Chinese). She wanted her mother to be'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.
Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she hadprayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but thewealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots andnow she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors byonly a string of origami banknotes.
Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral;that of a modern woman. Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, andyet her daughter had not found true happiness.
The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When herdaughter leaves the earth, everything she has will count for nothing. Peoplewould look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would beforgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertiblesand mansions.
The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayersfor her daughter; now she had only one want: that her daughter be happy. Shelooked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, herbrow furrowed with anger and worry.
Being at the top is not good, the woman thought. There is only one way to gofrom there - down. The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spreadout a packet of beehoon (rice vermicelli) in front of the altar.
Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain gods. How could shepray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? Buther daughter had her own gods too - idols of wealth, success and power that shewas enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life. Every day was a quest forthe idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All thewants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her, and leave her anempty soulless shell at the altar.
The old lady watched her joss stick. The dull heat had left a teetering greystem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern women nowadays, the old ladysighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end herritual. Modern women nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonderwhy they cannot find it.
Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughteroutside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on herdaughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soilof her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.
They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along thehighway, this time not as fast as she had done before.
'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I havebeen talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The propertymarket is good now, and we managed to find a buyer willing to pay seven millionfor it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found aperfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move in to our apartment, we plan to getrid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...'
The old woman nodded knowingly.
Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework andwe can eat out - but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look afteryou. You will be awfully lonely at home and besides that, the apartment israther small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and wedecided the best thing for you is if you moved to a home. There's one nearHougang, it's a Christian home, a very nice one.'
The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.
'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful withgardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you,you'd be happier there. You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeatedas if to affirm herself.
This time, the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her froma daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat,letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers traced the white seat.
'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view mirror for her mother. 'Iseverything okay?'
What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than sheintended. 'If it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.
'It's for you Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow. Ialready got the maid to pack your things,' Elaine said triumphantly, mentallyticking yet another item off her agenda.
'I knew everything would be fine.'
Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her motherwould make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrancein her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now.
She had everything a modern woman ever wanted: money, status, career, love,power and now, freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weighher down - yes, she was free.
Her phone buzzed urgently; she picked it up and read the message, stillbeaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10-per-cent increase!' Yes, things weredefinitely beginning to look up for her...
And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her handphonescreen, the old woman in the back seat became invisible, and she did not see thetears.
Read Each One Carefully and Think About It a Second or Two
小心讀每一個，再用一兩秒想一想
1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
我愛你不是因為你是誰，而是我在你面前可以是誰。
2. No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
沒有男人或女人是值得你為他流眼淚，值得的那一位，不會要你哭。
3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
那人不是你所想般愛你，但不代表那人不是全心全意地愛你。
4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
一個真正的朋友是向著你伸手，觸動你心靈的人。
5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.
掛念一個人最差的方式，就是你坐在他身旁，而知道你不能擁有他。
6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
就算你不快樂也不要皺眉，因為你永不知道誰會愛上你的笑容。
7. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.
在世界裡你可能只是某人，但對某人你可能是全世界。
8. Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.
不要花時間在一個不會花時間在你身上的人。
9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.
可能神要我們在遇到那位對的人之前先遇上一些錯的人，讓我們遇到那位對先生/對小姐時懂得珍惜。
10. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.
不要因為完結而哭，要為曾經發生而微笑。
11. There's always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting and just be more careful about who you trust next time around.
這個世界永遠也會有一些傷害你的人，你要做的就是繼續去信人和小心你下次信的人。
12. Make yourself a better person and know who you are before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.
在你嘗試了解其他人和盼望其他人明白你之前，先把你自己變成一個更好的人和了解你自己。
13. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.
不要太努力去找，最好的東西是在你最預計不到的時候出現。
Sometimes you might like a person a lot when you meet him or her. But when you spend more and more time with that person you might notice that the person might discover that the person might not be what you had expected.
Sometimes you tend to felt that you don't even undersand who is the person you once thought he or she was you best friend.
It is very pity that a good friendship had to be ended like that, I doubt that there would be a very closed friendship that would last forever.
