学习啦【英语文摘】 韦彦时间：2016-08-30 11:38:31我要投稿
freda bright says, "only in opera do people die of love." it's true. you really can't love somebody to death. i've known people to die from no love, but i've never known anyone to be loved to death. we just can't love one another enough.
a heart-warming story tells of a woman who finally decided to ask her boss for a raise in salary. all day she felt nervous and apprehensive. late in the afternoon she summoned the courage to approach her employer. to her delight, the boss agreed to a raise.
the woman arrived home that evening to a beautiful table set with their best dishes. candles were softly glowing. her husband had come home early and prepared a festive meal. she wondered if someone from the office had tipped him off, or... did he just somehow know that she would not get turned down?
she found him in the kitchen and told him the good news. they embraced and kissed, then sat down to the wonderful meal. next to her plate the woman found a beautifully lettered note. it read, "congratulations, darling! i knew you'd get the raise! these things will tell you how much i love you."
following the supper, her husband went into the kitchen to clean up. she noticed that a second card had fallen from his pocket. picking it off the floor, she read, "don't worry about not getting the raise! you deserve it anyway! these things will tell you how much i love you."
someone has said that the measure of love is when you love without measure. what this man feels for his spouse is total acceptance and love, whether she succeeds or fails. his love celebrates her victories and soothes her wounds. he stands with her, no matter what life throws in their direction.
upon receiving the nobel peace prize, mother teresa said, "what can you do to promote world peace? go home and love your family." and love your friends. love them without measure.
no woman is worthy to be a wife who on the day of her marriage is not lost absolutely and entirely in an atmosphere of love and perfect trust; the supreme sacredness of the relation is the only thing which, at the time, should possess her soul. is she a bawd that she should bargain?
women should not "obey" men anymore than men should obey women. there are six requisites in every happy marriage; the first is faith, and the remaining five are confidence. nothing so compliments a man as for a woman to believe in him--nothing so pleases a woman as for a man to place confidence in her.
obey? god help me! yes, if i loved a woman, my whole heart's desire would be to obey her slightest wish. and how could i love her unless i had perfect confidence that she would only aspire to what was beautiful, true and right? and to enable her to realize this ideal, her wish would be to me a sacred command; and her attitude of mind toward me i know would be the same. and the only rivalry between us would be as to who could love the most; and the desire to obey would be the one controlling impulse of our lives.
we gain freedom by giving it, and he who bestows faith gets it back with interest. to bargain and stipulate in love is to lose.
the woman who stops the marriage ceremony and requests the minister to omit the word "obey," is sowing the first seed of doubt and distrust that later may come to fruition in the divorce court.
the haggling and bickerings of settlements and dowries that usually precede the marriage of "blood" and "dollars" are the unheeded warnings that misery, heartache, suffering, and disgrace await the principals.
perfect faith implies perfect love; and perfect love casteth out fear. it is always the fear of imposition, and a lurking intent to rule, that causes the woman to haggle over a word--it is absence of love, a limitation, an incapacity. the price of a perfect love is an absolute and complete surrender.
keep back part of the price and yours will be the fate of ananias and sapphira. your doom is swift and sure. to win all we must give all.
the forest was large and thickly overgrown with all kinds of leaf-bearing trees. usually, it is cold this time of year and it even happens that it snow, but this november was relatively warm. you might have thought it was summer except that the whole forest was strewn with fallen leaves-some yellow as saffron, some red as wine, some the color of gold and some of mixed color. the leaves had been torn down by the rain, by the wind, some by day, some at night, and they now formed a deep carpet over the forest floor. although their juices had run dry, the leaves still exuded a pleasant aroma. the sun shone down on them through the living branches, and worms and flies which had somehow survived the autumn storms crawled over them. the space beneath the leaves provided hiding places for crickets, field mice and many other creatures who sought protection in the earth.
on the tip of a tree which had lost all its other leaves, two still remained hanging from one twig: ole and trufa. for some reason unknown to them, ole and trufa had survived all the rains, all the cold nights and winds. who knows the reason one leaf falls and another remains? but ole and trufa believed the answer lay in the great love they bore one another. ole was slightly bigger than turfa and a few days older, but trufa was prettier and more delicate. one leaf can do little for another when the wind blows, the rain pours, or the hail begins to fall. still, ole encouraged trufa at every opportunity. during the worst storms, when the thunder clapped, the lightning flashed and the wind tore off not only leaves but even whole branches, ole pleaded with trufa: "hang on, trufa! hand on with all your might!"
at times during cold and stormy nights, trufa would complain: "my time had come, ole, but you hand on!"
"what for?" ole asked. "without you, my life is senseless. if you fall, i'll fall with you."
"no, ole, don't do it! so long as a leaf can stay up it mustn't let go."
"it all depends if you stay with me," ole replied. "by day i look at you and admire your beauty. at night i sense your fragrance. be the only leaf on a tree? no never!"
ole, your words are so sweet but they're not true," trufa said. "you know very well that i'm no longer pretty. look how wrinkled i am, how shriveled i've become! only one thing is still left me-my love for you."
"isn't that enough? of all our powers love the highest, the finest," ole said. "so long as we love each other we remain here, and no wind, rain or storm can destroy us. i'll tell you something, trufa-i never loved you as much as i love you now."
"why, ole? why? i'm all yellow."
"who says green is pretty and yellow is not? all colors are equally handsome."
and just as ole spoke these words, that which trufa had feared all these months happened-a wind came up and tore ole loose from the twig. trufa began to tremble and flutter until it seemed that she, too, would soon be torn away, but she held fast. she saw ole fall and sway in the air, and she called to him in leafy language: "ole! come back! ole! ole!"
but before she could even finish, ole vanished from sight. he blended in with the other leaves on the ground, and trufa was left all alone on the tree.
so long as it was still day, trufa managed somehow to endure her grief. but when it grew dark and cold and a piercing rain began to fall, she sank into despair. somehow she felt that the blame for all the leafy misfortunes lay with the tree, the trunk with all its mighty limbs. leaves fell, but the trunk stood tall, thick and firmly rooted in the ground. no wind, rain or hail could upset it. what did it matter to a tree, which probably lived forever, what become of a leaf? to trufa, the trunk was a kind of god. it covered itself with leaves for a few months, then it shook them off. it nourished them with its sap for as long as it pleased, then it let them die of thirst. trufa pleaded with the tree to give her back her ole, to make it summer again, but the tree didn't heed her prayers.
trufa didn't think a night could be so long as this one-so dark, so frosty. she spoke to ole and hoped for an answer, but ole was silent and gave no sign of his presence.
trufa said to the tree: "since you've taken ole from me, take me too."
but even this prayer the tree didn't acknowledge.
after a while, trufa dozed off. this wasn't sleep but a strange languor. trufa awoke and to her amazement found that she was no longer handing on the tree. the wind had blown her down while she was asleep. this was different from the way she used to feel when she awoke on the tree with the sunrise. all her fears and anxieties had now vanished. the awakening also brought with it an awareness she had never felt before. she knew now that she wasn't just a leaf that depended on every whim of the wind, but that she was part of the universe. through some mysterious force, trufa understood the miracle of her molecules, atoms, protons and electrons-the enormous energy she represented and the divine plan of which she was a part.