学习啦  韦彦   2016-09-24 09:53:06



  The daffodil principle


  Several times my daughter had telephoned to say,"Dad, you must come see the daffodils before they are over."


  I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. "I will come next Tuesday," I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.



  Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”


  My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Dad."


  "Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm heading for home!" I told her.


  But first Dad, we're going to see the daffodils, it just a few blocks.


  Carolyn said. "I'll drive. I'm used to this weather."


  "Carolyn," I said, "please turn around."


  "It's all right, Dad, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."


  After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered sign that said, “Daffodil Garden.”


  We got out of the car and each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns — great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.


  "But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn.


  "It's just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home."


  Carolyn pointed to a well kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house. On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.


  The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman with two hands, two feet, and one brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."


  For me, that moment was a life-changing experience.


  I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun — one bulb at a time — to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world. This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.


  The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time — often just one baby — step at a time — and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.


  "It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time 'through all those years. Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"


  My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said.


  She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays.


  The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask,


  "How can I put this to use today?"So you, you use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting.....



  Stop waiting until your car or home is paid off. Stop waiting until you get a new car or home.Until your kids leave the house,


  or until you go back to school or until you finish school. Stop waiting until you clean the house or organize the garage. Until you clean off your desk. Stop waiting until you lose 10 lbs or to gain 10 lbs.


  Until you get married. Until you get a divorce. Until you have kids. Until the kids go to school.


  Stop waiting until you retire.


  Stop waiting until summer.Until spring. Until winter. Until fall.


  Stop waiting until you die.


  There is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.


  So work like you don't need money. Love like you've never been hurt.


  Dance like no one's watching. Wishing you a beautiful, daffodil day!



  Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold

  《多佛海滩》 马修·阿诺德

  The sea is calm tonight.


  The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits;


  On the French coast the light gleams and is gone;


  The cliffs of England stand; Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

  英格兰崖壁陡峭,高高耸立静谧的海湾, 一望无际,微光闪闪。

  Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!


  Only, from the long line of spray where the sea meets the moon-blanched land.


  Listen! you hear the grating roar of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, at their return, up the high strand, begin, and cease, and then again begin, with tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in.

  听啊,听那聒噪吼叫, 巨浪把卵石翻卷,一次次拉回海底,一次次又抛向高滩。 反复循环,相继不断,那节奏舒缓,那旋律震颤,这永恒的曲调饱含悲切哀怨。

  Sophocles long ago,heard it on the Aegean, and it brought into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery;

  古代的诗人索弗克斯, 在爱琴海上也曾聆听过这涛声的咏叹。由这混杂的潮汐, 想到人世的苦难。

  We find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

  如今,在这遥远的北海倾听, 我们的心感到同样震撼。

  The Sea of Faith was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

  信仰之海啊, 曾几何时,大潮涨满, 遍布整个世界, 飞舞彩带,闪耀光环。

  But now I only hear its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear and naked shingles of the world.

  可是现在,还能听到什么? 只剩下悲伤悠长的呼喊, 潮声退落成晚风的呜咽, 直到世界沙石裸露,广漠的边际一片昏暗。

  Ah, love, let us be true to one another!


  For the world, which seems to lie before us like a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

  看这眼前的世界, 处处如梦似幻, 似乎美好、新奇、灿烂, 可是既无欢乐、光明、爱恋, 又无诚信、和平、慈善;

  And we are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night.

  我们身处漆黑的莽原, 争斗、逃亡、惶恐、纷乱, 黑夜里愚蠢的军队厮杀纠缠。


  A true gift of love


  "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?"


  Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance,but in the heart.


  Real love lies not in what is done and known,but in what that is done but not known.








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