There is no doubt that happiness is the most precious thing in the world. Without it, life will be empty and meaningless. If you wish to know how to get happiness, you must pay attention to the following two points.

　　First, health is the secret of happiness (the key to happiness). Only a strong man can enjoy the pleasure of life.

　　Secondly, happiness consists in contentment. A man who is dissatisfied with his present condition is always in distress.

Want more outstanding than others, only at every little thing than the kung fu. For example, every one of us will read, the central people’s broadcasting radio announcers standard delivery speed is 120 words per minute that of ordinary people, and normal reading speed is 200 words per minute, but with fast reading training general reading speed is 300 words per minute. But this should pass hard training. First, do not read silently training without interference, voice, Then read directories and title, training in reading passages of the core tightly, Then read like a camera, training scanning, rather than from the same knew without quesition first read the last word, Again, use for training, the method of key catch hold a few seconds of a text reading a paragraph, keywords. By strengthening, might eventually break.

It is said that failure is the mother of success. This implies that failure is common to people, especially when they are students. When a student takes an exam, he is likely to fail if it is too difficult. When he applies for a new job, he may also fail if there are too many people applying for it.

　　People take various attitudes toward failure. Some people take it as a bad thing. They believe that failure may destroy their confidence in doing things. In contrast, some other people think it is good. They hold that failure may provide more experiences.

　　However, I don’t agree with the above ideas. In my opinion, failure is neither bad nor good. It is not bad because it really teaches us lessons It is not good because it did waste our time. What I value most is that I should try my best to avoid failure.

A folk culture is a small isolated, cohesive, conservative, nearly self-sufficient group that is homogeneous in custom and race with a strong family or clan structure and highly developed rituals. Order is maintained through sanctions based in the religion or family and interpersonal. Relationships are strong. Tradition is paramount, and change comes infrequently and slowly. There is relatively little division of labor into specialized duties.

Rather, each person is expected to perform a great variety of tasks, though duties may differ between the sexes. Most goods are handmade and subsistence economy prevails. Individualism is weakly developed in folk cultures as are social classes. Unaltered folk cultures no longer exist in industrialized countries such as the United States and Canada. Perhaps the nearest modern equivalent in Anglo America is the Amish, a German American farming sect that largely renounces the products and labor saving devices of the industrial age. In Amish areas, horse drawn buggies still serve as a local transportation device and the faithful are not permitted to own automobiles.

The Amish’s central religious concept of Demut “humility”, clearly reflects the weakness of individualism and social class so typical of folk cultures and there is a corresponding strength of Amish group identity. Rarely do the Amish marry outside their sect. The religion, a variety of the Mennonite faith, provides the principal mechanism for maintaining order.

By contrast a popular culture is a large heterogeneous group often highly individualistic and a pronounced many specialized professions. Secular institutions of control such as the police and army take the place of religion and family in maintaining order, and a money-based economy prevails. Because of these contrasts, “popular” may be viewed as clearly different from “folk”. The popular is replacing the folk in industrialized countries and in many developing nations. Folk-made objects give way to their popular equivalent, usually because the popular item is more quickly or cheaply produced, is easier or time saving to use or leads more prestige to the owner.

To love you is to daydream of you often, think of you so much, speak of you proudly, and miss you terribly when we are apart.
To love you is to cherish the warmth of your arms, the sweetness of your kiss, the friendliness of your smile, the loving sound in your voice, and the happiness we share.
To love you is to never forget the adversity we have overcome, the tears we have shed, the plans we have made, the problems we have solved, and the pain of separation.
To love you is to remember joyfully the days we made memorable, the moments that will live forever in our hearts, the dreams we hope for, the feelings we have for each other, the caresses and touches of love, and the exhilaration of love that fills our hearts.
To love you is to need you, want you, hold you, and know you as no one else can.
To love you is to realize that life without you would be no life at all…
That’s a little of what it’s like to be in love with you!

——Daniel Haughian

A thief with a long record was brought before the judge.

Judge: Have you ever stolen things?

Thief: Oh, now and then.

Judge: And where have you stolen these things?

Thief: Oh, here and there.

Judge: Right. Lock him up, officer.

Thief: Hey, when do I get out jail?

Judge: Oh, sooner or later.

Two men were travelling in a very wild and lonely part of America． For days they had not even seen a house， only a few huts made of wood， or tents made of skins． Then one day they met an old Indian who earned his living by trapping animals for heir fur． They found that he knew their language and they had a little conversation with him． One of them asked him if he could tell them what the weather would be like within the next few days．

“Oh yes，”he said．“Rain is coming， and wind．Then there will be snow for two days， but after that there will be bright sunshine．”

“Is n’t that wonderful？” said one man to his friend．“These old Indians know more of the secrets of Nature than we do with all our science． They have not been spoiled by civilization．” Then he turned to the old Indian．

“Tell me，”he said，“how you knew all that．”

The Indian replied，“I heard it on the radio．”

My son Joey was born with club feet. The doctors assured us that with treatment he would be able to walk normally – but would never run very well. The first three years of his life were spent in surgery, casts and braces. By the time he was eight, you wouldn’t know he had a problem when you saw him walk .

　　The children in our neighborhood ran around as most children do during play, and Joey would jump right in and run and play, too. We never told him that he probably wouldn’t be able to run as well as the other children. So he didn’t know.

　　In seventh grade he decided to go out for the cross-country team. Every day he trained with the team. He worked harder and ran more than any of the others – perhaps he sensed that the abilities that seemed to come naturally to so many others did not come naturally to him. Although the entire team runs, only the top seven runners have the potential to score points for the school. We didn’t tell him he probably would never make the team, so he didn’t know.

　　He continued to run four to five miles a day, every day – even the day he had a 103-degree fever. I was worried, so I went to look for him after school. I found him running all alone. I asked him how he felt. “Okay,” he said. He had two more miles to go. The sweat ran down his face and his eyes were glassy from his fever. Yet he looked straight ahead and kept running. We never told him he couldn’t run four miles with a 103-degree fever. So he didn’t know.

　　Two weeks later, the names of the team runners were called. Joey was number six on the list. Joey had made the team. He was in seventh grade – the other six team members were all eighth-graders. We never told him he shouldn’t expect to make the team. We never told him he couldn’t do it. We never told him he couldn’t do it…so he didn’t know. He just did it.

I was puzzled! Why was this old woman making such a fuss about an old copse which was of no use to anybody? She had written letters to the local paper, even to a national, protesting about a projected by-pass to her village, and, looking at a map, the route was nowhere near where she lived and it wasn’t as if the area was attractive. I was more than puzzled, I was intrigued.

　　The enquiry into the route of the new by-pass to the village was due to take place shortly, and I wanted to know what it was that motivated her. So it was that I found myself knocking on a cottage door, being received by Mary Smith and then being taken for a walk to the woods.

　　”I’ve always loved this place”, she said, “it has a lot of memories for me, and for others. We all used it. They called it ‘Lovers lane’. It’s not much of a lane, and it doesn’t go anywhere important, but that’s why we all came here. To be away from people, to be by ourselves ” she added.

　　It was indeed pleasant that day and the songs of many birds could be heard. Squirrels gazed from the branches, quite bold in their movements, obviously few people passed this way and they had nothing to fear. I could imagine the noise of vehicles passing through these peaceful woods when the by-pass was built, so I felt that she probably had something there but as I hold strong opinions about the needs of the community over-riding the opinions of private individuals, I said nothing. The village was quite a dangerous place because of the traffic especially for old people and children, their safety was more important to me than an old woman’s whims.

　　”Take this tree”, she said pausing after a short while. “To you it is just that, a tree. Not unlike many others here”. She gently touched the bark. “Look here, under this branch, what can you see?”

　　”It looks as if someone has done a bit of carving with a knife” I said after a cursory inspection.

　　”Yes, that’s what it is!” she said softly. “There are letters and a lover’s heart”.

　　I looked again, this time more carefully. The heart was still there and there was a suggestion of an arrow through it. The letters on one side were indistinct, but on the other an ‘R’ was clearly visible with what looked like an ‘I’ after it. “Some budding romance?” I asked, “did you know who they were?”

　　”Oh yes, I knew them”, said Mary Smith, “it says RH loves MS”.

　　I realised that I could be getting out of my depth, and longed to be in my office, away from here and this old lady, snug, and with a mug of tea in my hand.

　　She went on …”He had a penknife with a spike for getting stones from a horse’s hoof, and I helped him to carve my initials. We were very much in love, but he was going away, and could not tell me what he was involved in the army. I had guessed of course. It was the last evening we ever spent together，because he went away the next day, back to his Unit. ”

　　Mary Smith was quiet for a while, then she sobbed. “His mother showed me the telegram. ‘Sergeant R Holmes ….. Killed in action in the 9)invasion of France’”.

　　”‘I had hoped that you and Robin would one day get married” she said, “He was my only child, and I would have loved to be a Granny, they would have been such lovely babies’- she was like that! ”

　　”Two years later she too was dead. ‘Pneumonia, following a chill on the chest’ was what the doctor said, but I think it was an old fashioned broken heart. A child would have helped both of us.”

　　There was a further pause. Mary Smith gently caressed the wounded tree, just as she would have caressed him. “And now they want to take our tree away from me.” Another quiet sob, then she turned to me. “I was young and pretty then, I could have had anybody, I wasn’t always the old woman you see here now. I had everything I wanted in life, a lovely man, health and a future to look forwards to”.

　　She paused again and looked around. The breeze gently moved through the leaves with a sighing sound. “There were others, of course, but not a patch on my Robin!” she said strongly. “And now I have nothing – except the memories this tree holds. If only I could get my hands on that awful man who writes in the paper about the value of the road they are going to build where we are standing now, I would tell him. Has he never loved, has he never lived, does he not know anything about memories? We were not the only ones, you know, I still meet some who came here as Robin and I did. Yes, I would tell him!”

　　I turned away, sick at heart.

Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, “If I were any better, I’d be twins!” He was a natural motivator.

If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, “I don’ t get it. You can’ t be positive all the time. How do you do it?”

Michael replied, each morning I wake up and say to myself ‘Mike, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.’ I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.”

“Yeah, right. It isn’t that easy.” I protested.

“Yes it is, ” Michael said. “Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line is: It’s your choice how you live life. ” I reflected on what Michael said.

Soon thereafter, I left the big enterprise that I had worked in for years to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often though about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling off 60 feet from a communications tower.

After l8 hours of surgery, and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back. I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, “If I were any better, I’d be twins. Wanna see my scars?” I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.

“The first thing that went through my mind was the well being of my soon-to-born daughter,” Michael replied. “Then, as I lay on the ground, remembered I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live.” “Weren’t you scared? Did you lose consciousness?” I asked. Michael continued, “… the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the operation room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, l read ‘He’s a dead man.’ I knew I needed to take action.” “What did you do?” I asked. “Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me” said Michael. “She asked me if I was allergic to anything. ‘Yes,’ I said. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled”, ‘Gravity’” Over their laughter, I told them, ‘I’m choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead’.”

”’

Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I 1eamed from him that every day we have a choice to live fully. Attitude is everything.