秋忆
晚秋浅吟，寂寞成伤，淡淡如水墨。痛楚不想碰及，只是想学着，好好去疼惜自己寂寞是会见缝插针的，有落花肆无忌惮的点缀，更会心碎，心似相思网，中有千千结。为爱沉沦，如何会过而无痕？记忆里零落的爱或恨，除了缅怀，除了默守，留下的还会是什么爱生了刺，还要忆旧如痴不可掩饰，总会朝你的方向凝望，忘钢网清洗机记了自己眼中的忧伤。美丽的画面在空中延伸，嘴角泛起的微笑，如花香，漫天馨香。谁说的，你的无谓只是仗着我那么地喜欢你，差点落泪万物凋零的晚秋，空气中的凉弥漫在风中，灿烂之夏花终究投了降，骄傲的姿态已荡然无存，徒留伤逝凄凄的落寞。怀念明媚光鲜的夏，夏曾那么好，彻底忽略了花香的缥渺，就算死在你怀抱，也不想放掉......秋去冬来，自然轮回，回眸夏之美丽与骄傲，一如昨昔之痴痴，就算没惊天地泣鬼神，却也曾滚滚波涛，如 飞机票此，夫复何求？然流年的平淡，漫长寂寞如烟花，亦如冬之荒芜，谁又能真正敌得过痛楚已铭心深深，欢愉的凝视木棉的清香，彼年的懵懂此年的陌路，亦真亦幻沧海桑田，天荒地老似传说，擦肩而过太匆匆，徒留忐忑无奈伤逝凄凄在每个不能逃避的夜里，一遍遍清数着黑色的寂寞，这是个不再光亮的王国，没有谁为我去掌灯，泪已将我出卖，泪过了，微笑依然如昨，悲伤只是留给文字的，念去去，千里烟波，日子还得继续，我只是那个暗夜王国里默默潸泪的寂寞女子一步一行回眸间，秋 工业炉去冬来尽萧萧，所有温热的潮湿的苦涩的记忆最后都会化为灰烬，如残烟，最终也是丢弃。夜来了，心真是奇怪而莫名其妙，如夜来之香，慢慢地慢慢地，开始悄悄的绽放。灵魂的寂寞，总能让文字在夜色的掩护下，翩跹起舞，笨拙的指尖在键盘上飞扬，思绪的含混不清变得纤尘若丝，没了白天喧嚣的浮躁，没了光亮轻扯心房的不宁，敲打键盘，独享寂寞。夜澜静，能听到室内孩子淡淡均匀的呼吸，能闻玻璃瓶到故人从虚拟空间传来的栀子花打折机票香，凄美的纯音乐在屋子的每个角落轻轻流淌，轻如针尖，婉约忧伤。面上波澜不惊，心却一踏糊涂，如雾，竟迷失双眼。就让暗夜来吞噬寂寞的伤，就让寂静来抚慰心冷的痛，享受孤独享受感伤，沦陷于万箭穿心的刺中，万语千言百感交集，几许无奈几许轻叹。我心黯然，落花纷纷的思绪竟随着乐曲的诉说而大喜大悲着，心凉寂寞，肝肠寸断。夜风姿意，天上无月，内心的安宁与潮湿，平添一份忧郁，凄美痴迷。喜欢而沉醉这样的夜，能沉淀心灵杂质，能过滤浮躁喧嚣，独舔心灵之伤，生命不想荒芜。爱在唇齿，默然浅笑，只是因为荧屏上独舞的字，像情人，在解读我皮带秤的心思，在拥抱我的伤痛，盈盈一水间，轻轻荡漾柔美含羞，荡气回肠至善至美，相依相偎脉脉私语。夜静，灯深，诡秘朦胧淡淡幽雅，轻扬的思绪如插了翅，伴着乐曲，如沐天籁!
直向酒中求真意,离乱梦里迷老庄。清早的宁静打破昨宵的噩梦,不知从哪吐出这两句话,仿佛是对一夜噩梦的解释。暖暖的阳光照进冰冷的房间,一只鸟飞过,振翅翱翔,没有留下一片痕迹。一朵柔软的羽毛飘落,在半空中随风起舞,随风流浪,哪里是他的归宿?就像一粒尘埃,随风浮沉,不知何所止何所终。 乱红中飞过一只蝴蝶,飘飘乎,浩浩乎,遗世独立,羽化登仙。逍遥游于天地间,放浪形骸山水外。那是逍遥物外的庄生吗?还是安贫乐道的陶潜?还是疯癫的唐寅？这个世界有太多的贪欲,这个世界太过复杂,人生来的无明,人生八苦,又有谁能逃脱!人生来就是痛苦的,历劫一世,在痛苦中转入下一个痛苦的轮回。三世轮回,谁能立于六道之外,谁能普渡众生...... 小河中一尾快乐的小鱼,自由自在的游来游去,游鱼的快乐又有几人知晓,几人明白。庄子丧妻,鼓盆而歌,"子非鱼,安知鱼之乐"的俗物惠子又来发问,他怎么会散热器知道庄子在为陪伴自己一生,痛苦一生的妻子庆贺,庆贺她终于可以脱离苦海,逃脱痛苦。庄子死时,以天地为穴,以万物为培葬,一领席子,带走他残破的躯体。他就那样悄无声息的走了，什么也不带走，什么也不留恋。方田十余亩，草屋八九间。狗吠深巷中，鸡鸣高树巅。安能摧眉折腰事权贵，只为五斗米折腰。陶潜安贫乐道，在自然山水间采菊饮酒，晨兴理荒秽，戴月荷锄归。在南山之下，在东篱之侧，在黄酒中，回归最原始的快乐，找到最真诚的快乐。每日沉醉，不是黄酒作祟，而是自然山水的陶冶。桃花坞里桃花庵，一树一树的桃花，用来换酒钱，躺在落花丛中，拿着酒壶，放纵自己，疯疯癫癫。他人笑我太疯癫，我笑他人看不穿。不见五陵豪杰墓，无花无酒锄作田。这个世界所有的痛苦都可以消解，放弃自己所有的欲望，在自然山水间找寻自己的归宿。不是深山古刹，不去诵经礼佛，却也能超脱，超渡自己的灵魂。在安静的南山之阳，开一方田地，种一丛菊花，植一林桃玻璃瓶树，养一池游鱼...... 走在安静的阡陌上，思想胡乱的飞舞，在遥远的山峦中，有我安身之所！　那天和表姐在无意间聊着曾经爱着的她。不经意间想起多年以后的我们是个什么样呢？或许带着心中的梦想幸福的生活着，或许带着对世界的眷恋离开我们生活的世界...但是，很遗憾我不知道。虽然我想知道，可是我却找不到答案。所以我也只有在这里傻傻的幻想多年以后的样子。希望多年以后的我可以安静的看夕阳落下，平静的看流云河风。在千丝万缕的柳丝中，闪现你的身影；那时我也许懒洋洋的站立，听鸟儿在树上闲聊。多年以后，在某一个夏日的午后，放下手中的书，泡一杯自己喜爱的绿茶，然后松松筋骨，看蚂蚁齐心合力的搬运米粒，顽强的生活；多年以后，我会在心里空出一个位置，来承满对你的爱，在如梦如幻的舞台里，在若有若无的音乐中，回想着童年的游戏，大家共同的朋友还有那随风而逝的爱情，刻苦铭心的伤痛，但也会偶尔笑笑，并把散发幽 投影机租赁香的绿茶慢慢的品尝，就像是在品位人生；多年以后，还会想起起初相识的季节和天气，多年以后，我一定会在把曾经相处的片段剪接成一部电影：一部记录着爱情的电影。多年以后，也可能在拥挤的人群中，发现有一个人与你当年有相似的微笑。多年以后，我幸运的从别人的故事里，发现了你的影子。多年以后的我们还会一起品尝人生吗？我想我可能永远也找不到答案。或许我也会带着这个答案直到多年后的一天。那时的我们一定会很快乐......
春风沐雨，这应该是"吹面不寒杨柳风"的季节吧，和暖的风吹开天空的阴霾，婆娑的雨润湿大地的干枯。生机，盎然，勃勃。小草萌芽，杨柳抽枝，流水潺潺，鸟鸣啾啁，纸鸢漫天。小楼一夜听风雨，没有雨打芭蕉，没有无可奈何的落花。就是一个宁静而又安详的夜晚，独坐窗前对着无边的黑暗，听雨流浪诗人般的吟唱，凄迷，委婉，悠长。夜风幽咽，来自浔阳江上，还是秦淮河畔？叹惋那里的繁华，还是哀怜这里的萧条，抑或顾影自怜，感怀鸣琴弦断，知音难觅。不是巴山夜雨，没有缠绵悱恻的西窗烛与君共剪，只是一场平常的雨，在万铸铁闸门 籁俱寂的夜晚惊醒沉睡的梦。也不是"夜阑卧听风吹雨，铁马冰河入梦来"的小村，只是一场平常不过的南国的小雨，微有些辗转，一些沉重。稀稀疏疏的几点灯火给漆黑的夜带来一丝温暖，没有炊烟，只有几顶早起的油纸伞，无声无息的走过安静的小巷。檐上滴落的水，一滴一滴的滴落，和着僧人时徐时缓的木鱼声，穿过遥远的山林，激起水面一层又一层的涟漪。达摩祖师一苇渡江，才有了禅宗大行其道，后世传说达摩祖师布道之后只履西归，一只鞋子回到了故土。只履西归的故事多为杜撰吧，这样一位拯救世人的高僧怎么还会有狐死首丘的世俗之心呢，达摩祖师的徒子徒孙太过小觑这位得到高僧了。尘归尘，土归土，一切皆虚无。一个结束接下来就是一个开始，达摩祖师来既来了，何必又去？风一样无质无形，雨一样来既融于万物。不要说是一只鞋子，就算是他的躯体也都已经伴随他的佛道融于万事万物，归于尘土。每个存在都有他自己的轨迹，即便是无形无质的风，即便是归于尘土的雨也都有他自己的轨迹。按照自己的轨迹存在，任凭风吹雨打，生生死死皆是过眼云烟。繁华，萧条，灯火辉煌，夜色四合，风和日丽，雷雨交加，都是心外的虚无，安守自己的心，无欲无求，逍遥外物。第一缕晨曦洒向窗棂，雨过天晴。一切又归于安静，或者喧嚣，不同的心境罢了。

寂寞的迷失
冬夜漫漫，但我们丝毫也顾及不到它的寒冷与漫长。而我依旧分不清是我的孤寂感染了夜，还是夜的深沉扰乱了我的心......2010年1月6日，天仍然这么黑、夜依旧这么凉，车间内的机器依然不停地运转着、轰鸣着，他们消耗着大量的电力、和着一成不变的喘息，在继续着他们的使命。我曾经是那么的憎恶这些机器喷发出 退火炉的热浪和轰鸣，耳膜都被震动的嗡嗡乱响，逐渐地，我适应了这一切，而且深知如果它们停止了轰鸣和嘶叫所造成的后果。凌晨三点，当大家都相继进入睡眠的时候，我还在办公室苦苦的值班。昏暗的灯光下，耳边曲调悠悠，却也驱散不去疲乏的困意。找一个令自己惬意的姿势，把腿从桌子下抬到桌上，身子半躺在椅子的靠背上。喜欢把自己这样窝着的感觉，喜欢这样没有规矩的坐着，没有为什么，仅仅是喜欢而已。每个人的心中或多或少的都带有一点伤感和忧愁，没落的情怀，全部都在追逐。挥霍自己有限的青春，在人生的坎坷的道路上总是无能无力。夜晚依旧，寒冷依旧，心中的那份执着连同着美好的回忆，粉碎在时间的隧道里，粉碎在注定命运的三生石上，于是学会了幻想......再绚丽的烟火也照亮不了寂寞的黑夜，我开始对自己的命运把握不定，艰难的找不到方上海物资回收向，心中的压抑何时才能盼来黎明？从疲于争抢的世界里抽身而退，或许是一个很艰难的举措，但我相信时煤气发生炉间会证明我今天的选择，也可以说是别无选择，太累了，周围的一切是那么的不真实，笑里藏刀、绵里藏针让我不得不学会设防，我已经极度厌倦了虚伪恶心的生活，只想在属于自己的世界里安静待会儿，和最贴心的人说些最贴心的话，拾回那些未完成或者曾经无暇顾及的理想。从明天起，做一个开心的人，世界无限扩大，生活无限简单，和寝室里的兄弟多有些交流，多陪陪那个傻傻的孩子，在能力和精力所及的范围内伸展，简简单单、开开心心地过好每一个平凡的日子，享受最单纯的幸福。从明天起，做一个有心的人，把目光集中在我真正在乎的人和事物上，哪怕是一个人的世界，也要融入其中，珍惜所有值得珍惜的东西。多看看书，虽然一直以来都认为机械加工不学习也不会影响我什么，但毕竟任何东西的存在都一定有它存在的理由，用我自己的眼光去体会书本的精华和细节，相信终究有一天能够用得着。从明天起，做一个用心的人，不管做什么事情，只要做出了决定，都要百分之百地投入精力和激情，我知道在这个世界上，只有自己能够约束自己，问心无愧地做好每一件事情，接受来自内心深处的鞭策。从明天起，做一个真心的人，很单纯地看待每一个即将接触的人和事，没有经过相处，不轻易做出结论，在朋友面前，拒绝一切不真实的面具，应该怎样，就是怎样。处理矛盾应该要像下棋那样：让一招不为亏我！没有解不开的心结，没有化不了的干戈。从明天起，做一个虚心的人，尽可能地多学些对电镀添加剂现在、对将来有用的东西。能者即可为师，没有什么高攀与低就，只有该学和不该学，不必去理会那些嘈杂的声音，走好属于我自己的路！
初夏，阳光暖暖绿意盎然，拂面的风有阵阵叶子的香草味道，传说叶子敷在伤口上国际机票可以疗伤，可慢慢愈合的，只能是肉体的创伤，而灵魂的伤，又应该敷上什么？-心真的很闷，百无聊赖中，和朋友出去喝了点酒，心情畅快了好多，头有点晕，感觉正好。一个人走在大街上，大脑是天马行空的，过去未来，绚烂的怅然的，忽然就泪流了满面，不敢抬头，怕路人惊诧的目光，另一个我冷冷而严厉地告诫着：你不能哭，你的哭泣不是梨花带雨，会很丑的，很丑很丑。我喜欢夜色，很暧昧，可以尽情地释怀，可以尽情的掏空窒息了太久的压抑，不用去介意思想的混沌，不用去介意嘴巴的胡言乱语，没有逻辑没有头绪的话可以尽情放肆，管它谁会用异样地目光去看你，今夜，我只是太过寂寞，我不想做无家可归的云。忽然就感觉到辛酸，灵魂的漂泊无依让西力士自己似一孤魂野鬼一样地流浪着，心总会隐隐地痛疼，苦短的青春，一世的苍凉，不乏太多淡淡的青苔，何日是头？我想开怀每一天，我想快乐每一秒，或者，去做一个彻头彻尾的傻想忘掉不快，其实是自我安慰，伪装的快乐，无法欺瞒自己的心，痛的无法自拔，做个彻底的傻瓜也许最是合适，如此，我才能无争地找到解脱的出口。工作，除了工作，我再不知道做什么，身体疲累的极限就是昏睡，没有白天，没有黑夜，就这样的半梦半醒着，世界是安宁地静止地，死亡也不过如此痛快淋漓罢！无语，世界死一般地安静着，恐惧、不安袭上心头挥之不散，头是疼痛欲裂的，害怕从前那种欲生欲死的伤。猝不及防的怨中，恍然就看到了十年八年之前，其实-----一切都已一无所有。恰逢五月的假期，打起精神，把每天都安排得很满，整装出发，和儿子打扮得清爽阳光，很装酷，然后去爬山去游泳去农家烧烤......这个假期，我是青春而自我的,很是张扬穿花蛱蝶深深见，点水蜻螺旋输送机蜓款款飞"，融入大自然中，忽然感觉到自己的渺小，似漫山遍野的野花或小草-----其实，我与大自然"本是同根生"，大胆的想象荒唐的梦，这是五月的假期带给最大的收获。我愿是蝴蝶，我愿是蜻蜓，我愿是小草，走进灵魂的深处，摘下牵强的笑厣，双手依然空空。翩跹若蝶的梦想，自我自由的追求，清新空气的花香，明澈莹晶的溪水，如此这些，似一股清泉，潺潺地定格在我灰色的记忆里那是我灵魂深处的寂寞之门，那是个离巢未归流浪小鸟的窝，让青春在不间断的心力交瘁中修整，给随心而游的灵魂一处临时的归宿，喘口气歇了脚攒些劲，好继续上路。漫天飘舞的飞雪，引我痴痴回眸，怎一个冷雪无痕翩翩若蝶？冬雪的零落，没有驱走寂寞，却总在我的梦里，落我一身衣。雪的诗情里夹杂着纷纷的忧郁，轻盈飞扬密密粒粒，落在屋檐落在树枝，落在寂寞的心头，像晚秋中愈开愈寂寞的花朵，落满一地的忧伤让暴风雪来得更猛烈些吧，渴望漫天大雪踏雪无痕，没了尘埃没了 上海保洁公司黑暗，白茫茫一片才叫干净，可以坦然去寻找未知，可以坦然去享受凌寒，不用刻意去掩盖什么或忍受什么，只是尽情去燃烧自己，将无尽的渴望与忧伤焚毁，将所有迟疑与懦弱丢弃，没有逃避直面正视，勇敢如飞蛾，酣畅淋漓神清气爽。这是一个很寂寞的夜，落着有些忧伤的雪，有夜雪的相伴会不漫长，会照亮暗夜温暖凄凉，会给予黎明的惊喜，好将双眼的尘埃，层层拂去。心曾那么狠，竟然会对那个寂寞的孩子动了武？我叩问着我的心，内疚悔恨自责纠结在心间，我这是怎么了？累，工作的疲累让我无暇分心给儿子，每天每天，都会拖着疲累的身子回家，听到孩子的吵闹电视的喧嚣就开始心烦，哪怕捂上耳朵也是徒劳，包括屋子里来来去去的身影把自己丢在自己的空间里，静静地默默地，看着窗帘随秋风摇曳着舞动着，头脑是空空的破碎的，静，世界死一般地寂静，如遭末日遗弃一样地令人窒息，眼神空洞而迷离着，长长地久久地，会痴！我喜欢这样的孤独，凄迷而悠远，会彻底忘我，会有了底气，如充了电蓄了力，只为继续前进。只是啊只是，我的小孩，你可知我此刻的羞惭与悔痛我还记得你无助惊恐的眼神，我还记得你偷偷握起的拳头，我还记得你说过，你多想离家出走。猜想你小小的心，一定是充满了怨，我如寒霜冰冷的心掠过一瞬的柔软，多想揽你入怀，多想亲美容论坛吻你委曲的小脸，可是抱歉，我错误的没有！我的小孩，这一天来我如坐针毡，无心致力于任何事，心的刺给了我重重的惩罚，没有什么能够平衡我心对你的悔恨，你一定早已忘记不快，也一定早已阳光灿烂，甚至再次相见时还会冲上来拥抱亲吻我，可是我怎么，总快乐不起来孤独心伤身心疲累时，你的亲呢你的吵闹让我只想躲得远远，我忘了带你来这个世界时，我要给你快乐的承诺。我的小孩啊，你一定不懂，有着温暖怀抱如大山般安全的妈妈，怎么也会孤苦也会无依空气中飘散着冷雪，心底更是大雪纷飞，弥漫的寒气令人骨寒，我的小孩，你今天一定最是寒冷，谁为你去呵冰冷的小手？谁让你脸上绽露出笑容会的，你一定会笑，灿烂如昨，我相信。

梦中的花落花开
记忆里的碎片，不经意间掠过脑海，原来历史是现实的伏笔，我们费尽心思，却难逃一遍又一遍的宿命。我琢磨着，是不是应该再去看看那片海，风平浪静与波涛汹涌是两种不同心情的对白，潮起潮落载着漂流瓶渐行渐远，终有一天会迎来彼岸那一地花开还是不明白，那个叛逆的年龄，为什么顾及那么多的后果，却总清洁公司是要让最爱我和我最爱的人受伤，自诩成熟却不知如何呵护，知道难得却不懂得珍惜。还是不明白，为什么明明很在乎，却要装出不理不睬；明明很期待，还是要表达出无奈。难道，我真的不能左右我的释怀，不懂得有些东西失去就不再。梦一般的岁月，就真的能够很清醒地醒来？还是不明白，为什么总是不能很放肆地笑出声来，沉默太久会不会让我再也走不出梦里的花落花开。尽管不服输，却又总是要写满了不屑，是不是真的要持久地面对那一片空白。还是不明白，为什么总是不喜欢听课，而是要挑战自己在最短的时间内解决所有的问题。这真的是潇洒吗？似乎从课堂上真的学不到想要的东西。也许只有我自己知道自己在想什么，或许生活加密狗中免不了感叹纠结。还是不明白，我为什么期待简单，在简单的环境里做一些简单的事情，是不是就能如我所愿。是不是无法闪躲，那些市井嘈杂的喧哗。不知道有没有哪一天，只有艳阳、微风和你的陪伴。-一辈子是不是指每一天，只要简简单单的开心就好，为什么却彼此放不开，一个人的时候，你很安静地发呆，是不是也在思考自己的徘徊。想醉是不是因为酩酊中苦闷能荡然无存，想睡是不是因为梦中所有苦和泪才能化为灰。究竟是放歌、是举杯，还吸塑是为他人折桂？我是否是真的已经具有那份耐心与宽容，虽然已学会将眼泪咽进肚子里，但激流面前的进退还是让我不安心，到底是什么让我如此犹豫？现实是不是如梦中般花落花开，最简单的思绪，最清醒的头脑，能否感觉到彼此的存在为什么总说些自己都不懂的句子，胡言乱语梦中的花落花开，是不是一生付之春水，用真心才能将生命体会？
在外求学的日子，网吧就是家；离开宿舍的那一刻，发现流浪已是最真实的活法。无拘无束的闯荡固然潇洒，可没有了家的方向着实容易让人受伤，只有在夜深人静时，才能知道自己究竟在做什么；只有在心力交瘁时，才能明白自己最真实的想法。走下去，就有希望，我总是这样对自己说。没有武器的时候，总是提醒自己准备好勇气迎接挑战，我的双手很脆弱，但至少要表现出足够的坚强。一个人，一支笔，一盏孤灯，就是一个天堂。可这个天堂却在我触手不及的地方游荡，我懂得生活的实在，那种让人窒息的无奈与彷徨。不是不想去享受洒脱，只是残忍的现实给了太多 瓦楞机折磨。走下去，就有希望，老大曾经望着半截烟头这样对自己说。原来每个男人都有一段流浪的寂寞，流浪之后，或者成熟，或者仍然寂寞....... 背着沉重的包走在陌生的城市，才发现生活远没有想象的那么简单，一切近在眼前，却没有一丝温暖；已经置身其中，却依然格 箱式电阻炉格不入。很简单，所有的一切都在告诉我：你不属于这里，这里也不属于你！ 一次次推开厚实的玻璃门，却又一次次被厚实的玻璃门推出来，只剩下强颜的笑；一次次翻出空空如也的口袋，却又一次次被口袋嘲笑活该；一次次望着往西开动的列车，却又一次次被自己的尊严拒绝；一次次在欢笑声中睡着，却又一次次从苦涩中醒来...... 走下去，就有希望。男人嘛，肯定要受点伤，扛点事儿，未来还很长，还有很多事情要去做，还有人需要去照顾，还有很多伟大或者平凡的事情等着我们。这是责任，所以首先要有负责任的能力，要有兑现诺言的勇气。走下去，就有希望。虽然独自去闯并不容易，但毕竟我还年轻，青春是我的资本；虽然撑起一片晴空还不太可能，但毕竟我能拿出足够的勇气，值得庆幸还有激情；虽然一切还只是镜中花、水中月，但毕竟也能感受到那份美丽，伤口盛开的鲜花让人销魂。走下去，就有希望。昂首挺胸，我不是想找活干，而是想建设这座城市；敞开心扉，我不是想要一个人陪我，而是想找一份家的感觉一辈子不离不弃。我从来不游戏生活，从来不追求不属于我的东西，我相信缘分，也明白缘分要努力去争取走下去，就有希望。应该是吧！我不知道固执是误我一生，还是让我的一生变得完美。
下班后，带着疲惫的身子回到家中，一下就座在了沙发上，发呆的目光久久望井式炉着窗台上摆放着的鱼缸，我好像被鱼缸里的水淹没一样，整个人木纳的像一尊雕像，唯有心依然在跳动。忽然间对着鱼缸中游来游去的鱼儿,我自语着说：鱼儿你多好哇，自从来到这里无忧无虑,多自由呀......抬头再望着窗外天空的晚霞，那儿正有一轮夕阳缓缓下坠残阳如血，枯藤老树。此时，我感慨时光一下沧桑了许多年，我身心也感到十分的疲惫，太累了望着夕阳的落下，转眼间，外面的天色已渐渐暗了下来，整个世界好象被融入在黑暗里。我被前后楼群的灯光照耀着，一动不动的坐在沙发上，伤感地思索着这些年来家庭所遭遇的不幸和困惑。我不明白，为什么人生总是期望着圆满，而得到的却是残缺和苦涩，我不明白，为什么我的心中永远都有滴不尽的忧伤，脆弱的心啊不堪一击，已经把我的心蹉跎成了白发老人......看着鱼缸中欢快而自由的鱼儿，我也被渐渐融入水中，带着梦想加入了鱼儿的行列，消失在夜幕中。恍惚间，仿佛听到了鱼儿对我诉说："我也累了......，世上没有歇脚的地方，只有自找快乐，只有不停的努力"。忽然之间，我醉入在了现实与梦想之间，迷茫的心灵，我不知自己身在何处。难到我真的迷茫了吗？我在夜幕中沉思，在夜幕中寻找答案，也许我真的太累了，多么渴望那种平静朴实的生活，多么希望长机械制造夜不要太黑，心不要太累，什么时候才能够有呢？ 风入林深千叶恨，泪溢颐，待商榷！ 一个人难免释怀，难免惆怅，难免落泪。但是泪，一滴正好，增一滴嫌多减一份则少。无论怎么样，一个人借故流泪总不是值得推崇的，越是伤心，越是愤懑，越是没人理解，就要愈发的爱自己愈发的珍惜自己的眼泪如果没有了眼泪，心就会是一片干涸的湖。那样的我们改如何生存 能够说出的委屈，便不算委屈。会让你流泪的事情，便会有解决的途径。眼泪的出现，未必是事情到了峰不回路不转的地步，往往是我们过于纤弱不懂武装自己；惧风怕雨蹑手蹑脚，不知昂首出击~~~眼泪的出现证明了我们还不够成熟不足以 MBA真题的强大！回归心海深处，在那片幽蓝深静天地中，感触！感触在海水里积淀，泪水在感触中汇聚，时间在泪水中模糊，感触在模糊时敏感，你我在敏感是落泪，泪水幻化成遗珠那一颗颗遗珠，只记载了我们的纠结和愁绪，透过他们发现不了我们的心迹因为我们的心事不曾向泪水倾诉，他们不曾知晓，当然就没有痕迹可寻。落泪化遗珠，愁苦无处藏。遗珠坠深海，心事亦消亡。一个特别的端午佳节，一份特殊的快乐心情！来到黄龙，一种恬淡的心情油然升起，绿荫铺地，影影重重，有的是静谧，是恬淡，是安详。她的静是一种心情，是一种感觉，是一种发自内心的对自然的向往！来往穿梭的有轿车，电瓶车，自行车还有就是最让人舒服的老人！路中央那轿车们的行进声和两旁时而爽朗的笑声响起正好交织成一曲交响乐，汇入我的听觉。我倾听着，也许会听到什么，也许会感觉的什么环境的幽静使我释怀，身旁佳人的陪伴更让我有归属感！虽然我们不住在这里，虽然我们求学的历程也没缘这里。但两颗虔诚的 冲压 心对这里的心仪是高昂的！西湖的静，西湖的美，西湖的魅力已经在这里展露。傍晚，大家该是吃晚饭的时候。太阳还在西边，眷恋着这里的美丽，依依不舍的放出绚丽的光彩！我和小婷晃晃悠悠的也来到了浙大的大门！眼见着"浙江大学"。心里向往已久的激动，有对她百年依然的敬仰，也有作为百年学府的一种严肃。漫步进入浙大，眼前一时豁然，那巨大的半圆形，是由参天大树勾勒的！大学的胸怀由这里开始，大学的精神也在这里的升华！薄暮时分的浙大是安详，是沉稳！公交车已经沉睡在学校的怀抱，洗去一天的疲惫。来迎接明天的佳节我们走着，偶尔来到体育场，篮球--点然我们激情的活动。在这里也是！曲径通幽之处，我们一起走过。精神高洁之殿，我们一起徜徉！浙大有她自己的静，美，魅力。我们道不尽，也感不尽！我们啊只是形成了一种心的语言--在这里。

落泣
这是一首我前几天在公交车上听到的，一个四岁左右的小女孩唱的，我今晚想起了她。她粉白粉白的皮肤，精致的五官，最漂亮的是她的眼睛，长长的睫毛，大大的黑黑的透着灵气穿的是嫩黄色到膝盖的韩国服饰，最可爱的是她的头发，也许是自来卷，短的就趴在额头，长的被梳成两个小发髻分在两侧，象刘亦菲，但比她　液压机更可爱她依偎在母亲的怀里，我就坐她们后一排坐位，她不停的有声有色的朗诵着儿歌，声音很大，象个小表演家她一遍遍的教着妈妈唱这首儿歌，时而发出阵阵悦耳的笑声，稚嫩的声音是那么好听车里很多庸懒，疲惫的眼睛都看着这个可爱的女孩。眼里有羡慕，有欣赏，有赞叹看着她，我鼻子酸酸的，眼泪就在眼圈里打转女孩的声音像大锤一样，一下下的砸在我心口上。不敢听，又想把她的儿歌学会我想起我小时候，我也是这样的可爱，这样的着人头发到腰那么长，妈妈的手好巧经常会变着花样的给我梳辫子。我记得很清楚，妈妈给我画上她心爱的口红，我就有半天的时间不敢闭嘴。而且也是整天这样说笑个不停，那时什么也不懂后来换成爸爸给我梳头发，粗糙而且防爆膜长满小口子的大手刮得我好疼，我不让他梳，任性的摇着身子哭着着说：我不要你梳，我要让我妈梳结果惊讶的看见爸爸大滴大滴的眼泪无声的掉下来，我不敢再说父亲时常把我擎在脖子上，晚上会让我趴在他的肚子上睡觉！我经常快乐的说：我是小猴子，爸爸是大猴子后来知道，因为父亲，妈妈选择了她认为会比人间更快乐的天堂但她却忘了带上我长大后我很任性，叛逆，在外边流浪。
拉伸 一直不肯回去！结婚的时候，我也没有带男朋友回去见父亲。继母和哥哥来参加了我的婚礼。我其实很想他，经常夜里都会梦见他喊我回去吃饭。都说女儿是父亲的前世情人，但是我不想见他，见他我就很心痛，一肚子的火要发的样子！尤其是我三年前第一个女儿夭折的时候，我整天给他打电话，什么也不说，就是哭，歇斯底里的对着电话的父亲哭我找不到能依靠的人，父亲让我回东北，可是倔强的我坚持不回去。我不知道我哭的是什么，我不知道是心痛还是肝痛，就是痛。也许那就是心碎的感觉。父亲在对面不说话，也薄膜开关不挂断电话，就这样一直听着，等我哭够了，父亲会说，洗洗睡吧，明天再打给我这么多年了，父亲对于我从来没有说过什么责备的话!!已经7年了，我都没有见他了？听哥哥说他老了很多。和继母吵架的时候会说，我去找姑娘{女儿}去！！我的心涩涩的味道。树欲静而风不止，子欲养亲不在。我今天才真正明！我会好好弥补我这么多年来对父亲的亏欠。要好好的陪陪父亲。希望还不晚今年春节我就会回去，带着我的宝贝，是的，我今天检查我有宝宝了父亲的天使回来了，我的天使也回来了　　南方的广州是一个随便一转头，就能见到历史，追求时髦现代，又行星减速机争先恐后的城市，这里似乎有许多选择，可以当成一个起点，三年前我来到这里，渐渐适应了这个城市的节奏跟步调，当然也已经找到工作，接触了许多新鲜的事物与朋友作为一个88年的我刚到这里有着一种说不出的喜悦，只因自己自由了，再也没人掌控我的生活了，进入了工厂开始了自己的人生历程，踏入了工厂集体生活圈，当自己在这个生活圈越久越感到可怕。只因学生年代是一个单纯而缤纷多彩的时代，每天坐在一间教室里，谁也不会带着面具上课、打闹嬉戏。而工作年代是一个复杂而现实的时代，每天坐在一间办公室里，谁都要带着面具上班，甚至交谈吹牛。因现实中再也没有真挚的友情，剩下的是利益价值，这个时侯很需要"三思后行"。看着身边那些所谓90的异军逐渐排挤我的思想老套，那些自认思想成熟无比的85前劳汉个个成家后无视我为幼稚想法，异想天开，我逐渐的偏离了他们。一年又一年身边的朋友随触而离，慢慢的形成了一种孤僻的性格，凡事不愿分享，把所有的想法寄托给了文字，都说爱上文字上海保洁的人同样也爱上了孤单，或许这句话的意思是要说，喜欢文字的人都是孤独的种群吧！否然，他们只是把自己的感情流露在了文字上面，将自己的心情抒写在人生的宣纸上面，闲暇之时可以回味人生的甘甜。我已经不起排挤与唾弃，在这个所谓人性化的时代，我竟然享受了一切的孤独。我从来都不觉得，应该刻意去忘记那些为了利益的朋友，曾经发生过的那些点点滴滴，那每一个令人微笑的时刻，或眼角湿润的那一瞬间，心动的感觉，心痛的感觉，我不会当做没有发生过，但是时间在往前跑，我们应该往前看。生活在家乡，离开家乡成为伴随我十八年的梦。我在曲折的急湍中逆流而上，驶向撩动心灵的梦。不管风吹雨打，雷鸣电闪，我一如既往，奋勇拼搏，终于摘到高悬于心中的梦。甜蜜的果实让我醉了。心中开满了鲜花。梦变成现实，生活在现实中，回家是一种奢侈。当第一只脚与异乡的泥土接触，愉冲压 悦萦绕身旁，快乐淡化了异风异味俗。好奇心让我和异乡靠近，而一层灰色的薄膜是我们能远观而不能近玩。入乡随俗"说来容易，做起来难。适应性能很快适应异乡的食物，生活方式，天气，但很难适应一种叫情的东西试问世间情为何物？纵使专家学者也难说清。世上的情太多，太复杂，又互相缠绕，成了理不清的线团离开原有的情，人便有种莫名的空虚感。彷徨在情的边缘，彷徨在快乐与失落之间。情一生一世都紧紧地跟随你，让你活在喜怒悲伤之中。根深蒂固的情，哪有那么容易被摧毁啊？他已经和我们的心灵打了个死结，你飞得再高再远，也永远挣脱不了线的束缚。命中注定离开家还得回家回家成为一种必然。回家不是为尽自己的孝道，也不是沽名钓竹纤维誉为自己争得不忘本的虚荣，而是为自己寻找供漂泊远方疲劳的身躯休息的港湾，让疲惫的心灵在清净之地休养。回家成为医疗心灵的良药。在家，不必为应付人情而煞费脑力，也不必因工作而感到压力沉沉，更不必为日常生活琐事烦恼。在家，我可以敞开心扉和少年时的伙伴畅聊，也可以向父母倾叙心中烦事，可以静下心来重温往事。
其实，要不是一开始你说你不会生气，我也不会傻傻的自顾自的说下去。其实，如果不是一开始你说不管发生什么事情都要告诉你，我也不会如此傻头傻脑的把苦水都吐给你。桌子上的保温杯已经不保温了，并不是因为它坏掉了，而是我到过的水，时间太久了。我没有喝，也没有倒掉，只是时间悄悄把它改变了，没有了如初的热情，也没有了昨天的温存。难道所有的感情都要走这一轮回吗？所以在你说不要我难过，是你错了的时候，我真的什么都不想想了，什么也不敢再说。你，能明白吗？我是害怕伤心的，一直都是，可是你说我说话么有考虑到你的感美容院受你受伤了！我很难过。岁月与我的擦肩，一段一段的缘分。没有长久的相守，也没有不变的誓言。善变的世界，谁都只是一个适应者，面对挫折，时时思索！春华秋实，记下多少美好的故事；雨去霜来，改变多少天真的模样。日子不在每个人的手中，我们握住的只是回忆。与岁月的擦肩，错过一些幸福，也错过一些悲伤。在时光的转角，我时常彷徨，猜不到哪一条路才会走得顺畅。朋友，会陪你欢笑，却很少会懂你的伤痛，不去触摸是一种执着!过往如烟，深刻的，风会不停的诉说；肤浅的，夜会不停地覆盖。也许有一天会淡忘一些，却记不得所有，所以常常珍惜。知己如歌，轻轻唱出的苦乐。情，在两心相惜的时候升华；爱，在孤独寂寞的时候伟大。厮守，可能需要掺进一种不知名的痛苦吧有时幼稚，总觉得那不是命运，注定只是用来改变的。可当一些事情发生，手无所措才始解了脆弱。时间飞逝，总带走一些我不想失去的事物。苦苦挣扎，舔舐渗出血液的味道，走过的苦，为未来铺砌一条懵懂的路！ 　落泣
这是一首我前几天在公交车上听到的，一个四岁左右的小女孩唱的，我今晚想起了她。她粉白粉白的皮肤，精致的五官，最漂亮的是她的眼睛，长长的睫毛，大大的黑黑的透着灵气穿的是嫩黄色到膝盖的韩国服饰，最可爱的是她的头发，也许是自来卷，短的就趴在额头，长的被梳成两个小发髻分在两侧，象刘亦菲，但比她　液压机更可爱她依偎在母亲的怀里，我就坐她们后一排坐位，她不停的有声有色的朗诵着儿歌，声音很大，象个小表演家她一遍遍的教着妈妈唱这首儿歌，时而发出阵阵悦耳的笑声，稚嫩的声音是那么好听车里很多庸懒，疲惫的眼睛都看着这个可爱的女孩。眼里有羡慕，有欣赏，有赞叹看着她，我鼻子酸酸的，眼泪就在眼圈里打转女孩的声音像大锤一样，一下下的砸在我心口上。不敢听，又想把她的儿歌学会我想起我小时候，我也是这样的可爱，这样的着人头发到腰那么长，妈妈的手好巧经常会变着花样的给我梳辫子。我记得很清楚，妈妈给我画上她心爱的口红，我就有半天的时间不敢闭嘴。而且也是整天这样说笑个不停，那时什么也不懂后来换成爸爸给我梳头发，粗糙而且防爆膜长满小口子的大手刮得我好疼，我不让他梳，任性的摇着身子哭着着说：我不要你梳，我要让我妈梳结果惊讶的看见爸爸大滴大滴的眼泪无声的掉下来，我不敢再说父亲时常把我擎在脖子上，晚上会让我趴在他的肚子上睡觉！我经常快乐的说：我是小猴子，爸爸是大猴子后来知道，因为父亲，妈妈选择了她认为会比人间更快乐的天堂但她却忘了带上我长大后我很任性，叛逆，在外边流浪。
拉伸 一直不肯回去！结婚的时候，我也没有带男朋友回去见父亲。继母和哥哥来参加了我的婚礼。我其实很想他，经常夜里都会梦见他喊我回去吃饭。都说女儿是父亲的前世情人，但是我不想见他，见他我就很心痛，一肚子的火要发的样子！尤其是我三年前第一个女儿夭折的时候，我整天给他打电话，什么也不说，就是哭，歇斯底里的对着电话的父亲哭我找不到能依靠的人，父亲让我回东北，可是倔强的我坚持不回去。我不知道我哭的是什么，我不知道是心痛还是肝痛，就是痛。也许那就是心碎的感觉。父亲在对面不说话，也薄膜开关不挂断电话，就这样一直听着，等我哭够了，父亲会说，洗洗睡吧，明天再打给我这么多年了，父亲对于我从来没有说过什么责备的话!!已经7年了，我都没有见他了？听哥哥说他老了很多。和继母吵架的时候会说，我去找姑娘{女儿}去！！我的心涩涩的味道。树欲静而风不止，子欲养亲不在。我今天才真正明！我会好好弥补我这么多年来对父亲的亏欠。要好好的陪陪父亲。希望还不晚今年春节我就会回去，带着我的宝贝，是的，我今天检查我有宝宝了父亲的天使回来了，我的天使也回来了　　南方的广州是一个随便一转头，就能见到历史，追求时髦现代，又行星减速机争先恐后的城市，这里似乎有许多选择，可以当成一个起点，三年前我来到这里，渐渐适应了这个城市的节奏跟步调，当然也已经找到工作，接触了许多新鲜的事物与朋友作为一个88年的我刚到这里有着一种说不出的喜悦，只因自己自由了，再也没人掌控我的生活了，进入了工厂开始了自己的人生历程，踏入了工厂集体生活圈，当自己在这个生活圈越久越感到可怕。只因学生年代是一个单纯而缤纷多彩的时代，每天坐在一间教室里，谁也不会带着面具上课、打闹嬉戏。而工作年代是一个复杂而现实的时代，每天坐在一间办公室里，谁都要带着面具上班，甚至交谈吹牛。因现实中再也没有真挚的友情，剩下的是利益价值，这个时侯很需要"三思后行"。看着身边那些所谓90的异军逐渐排挤我的思想老套，那些自认思想成熟无比的85前劳汉个个成家后无视我为幼稚想法，异想天开，我逐渐的偏离了他们。一年又一年身边的朋友随触而离，慢慢的形成了一种孤僻的性格，凡事不愿分享，把所有的想法寄托给了文字，都说爱上文字上海保洁的人同样也爱上了孤单，或许这句话的意思是要说，喜欢文字的人都是孤独的种群吧！否然，他们只是把自己的感情流露在了文字上面，将自己的心情抒写在人生的宣纸上面，闲暇之时可以回味人生的甘甜。我已经不起排挤与唾弃，在这个所谓人性化的时代，我竟然享受了一切的孤独。我从来都不觉得，应该刻意去忘记那些为了利益的朋友，曾经发生过的那些点点滴滴，那每一个令人微笑的时刻，或眼角湿润的那一瞬间，心动的感觉，心痛的感觉，我不会当做没有发生过，但是时间在往前跑，我们应该往前看。生活在家乡，离开家乡成为伴随我十八年的梦。我在曲折的急湍中逆流而上，驶向撩动心灵的梦。不管风吹雨打，雷鸣电闪，我一如既往，奋勇拼搏，终于摘到高悬于心中的梦。甜蜜的果实让我醉了。心中开满了鲜花。梦变成现实，生活在现实中，回家是一种奢侈。当第一只脚与异乡的泥土接触，愉冲压 悦萦绕身旁，快乐淡化了异风异味俗。好奇心让我和异乡靠近，而一层灰色的薄膜是我们能远观而不能近玩。入乡随俗"说来容易，做起来难。适应性能很快适应异乡的食物，生活方式，天气，但很难适应一种叫情的东西试问世间情为何物？纵使专家学者也难说清。世上的情太多，太复杂，又互相缠绕，成了理不清的线团离开原有的情，人便有种莫名的空虚感。彷徨在情的边缘，彷徨在快乐与失落之间。情一生一世都紧紧地跟随你，让你活在喜怒悲伤之中。根深蒂固的情，哪有那么容易被摧毁啊？他已经和我们的心灵打了个死结，你飞得再高再远，也永远挣脱不了线的束缚。命中注定离开家还得回家回家成为一种必然。回家不是为尽自己的孝道，也不是沽名钓竹纤维誉为自己争得不忘本的虚荣，而是为自己寻找供漂泊远方疲劳的身躯休息的港湾，让疲惫的心灵在清净之地休养。回家成为医疗心灵的良药。在家，不必为应付人情而煞费脑力，也不必因工作而感到压力沉沉，更不必为日常生活琐事烦恼。在家，我可以敞开心扉和少年时的伙伴畅聊，也可以向父母倾叙心中烦事，可以静下心来重温往事。
其实，要不是一开始你说你不会生气，我也不会傻傻的自顾自的说下去。其实，如果不是一开始你说不管发生什么事情都要告诉你，我也不会如此傻头傻脑的把苦水都吐给你。桌子上的保温杯已经不保温了，并不是因为它坏掉了，而是我到过的水，时间太久了。我没有喝，也没有倒掉，只是时间悄悄把它改变了，没有了如初的热情，也没有了昨天的温存。难道所有的感情都要走这一轮回吗？所以在你说不要我难过，是你错了的时候，我真的什么都不想想了，什么也不敢再说。你，能明白吗？我是害怕伤心的，一直都是，可是你说我说话么有考虑到你的感美容院受你受伤了！我很难过。岁月与我的擦肩，一段一段的缘分。没有长久的相守，也没有不变的誓言。善变的世界，谁都只是一个适应者，面对挫折，时时思索！春华秋实，记下多少美好的故事；雨去霜来，改变多少天真的模样。日子不在每个人的手中，我们握住的只是回忆。与岁月的擦肩，错过一些幸福，也错过一些悲伤。在时光的转角，我时常彷徨，猜不到哪一条路才会走得顺畅。朋友，会陪你欢笑，却很少会懂你的伤痛，不去触摸是一种执着!过往如烟，深刻的，风会不停的诉说；肤浅的，夜会不停地覆盖。也许有一天会淡忘一些，却记不得所有，所以常常珍惜。知己如歌，轻轻唱出的苦乐。情，在两心相惜的时候升华；爱，在孤独寂寞的时候伟大。厮守，可能需要掺进一种不知名的痛苦吧有时幼稚，总觉得那不是命运，注定只是用来改变的。可当一些事情发生，手无所措才始解了脆弱。时间飞逝，总带走一些我不想失去的事物。苦苦挣扎，舔舐渗出血液的味道，走过的苦，为未来铺砌一条懵懂的路！ 　

How High the Moon
Tom Murphy wants to know how far it is to the moon. Not just how many golf equipment miles, or how many feet, or even how many inches.He wants to know it within a millimeter, and that's less than a 25th of an inch.And he wants to know exactly how far it is every moment of every day. That'sdespite the fact that the distance changes minute by golf clubsminute because the moon is in an elliptical 28-day orbit ranging from 220,000 to about 252,000 miles from Earth.To achieve his goal, the University of Washington postdoctoral researcher in physics and astronomy will use the latest in laser technology, a large telescope in New Mexico, a team of other experts, a little funding from NASA, and a whole lot of luck.Theauto scanner stakes are high. If it doesn't work, he could spend the rest of his life trying to live down "Murphy's folly." If it does, he might disprove part of Einstein's theory of General Relativity, or he might discover evidence of an unseen celestial body in our solar system, either of which would earn him a page in the history books. What Murphy is really doing is using the Earth and the moon as his laboratory, because the questions he is asking can't be answered in an ordinary lab. The tools just aren't big enough.Murphy¡¯s primary method will be something called "laser ranging."Light from a laser fired from the Earth could hit a reflector on the surface of the moon and bounce back. The timeoutdoor lighting it took for the light to travel from Earth to the reflector and back would reveal the exact distance, or at least within a few inches. That would reveal much about the lunar orbit, and that data could in turn be used to test some of the tantalizing ideas in Einstein's theories
By using a laser system mounted on a 3.5-meter telescope at Apache Point, N.M.,and equipped with a sophisticated array of detectors that can capture and isolate every photon of light that bounces back from the moon, Murphy hopes to get the number down packaging machinewell below a millimeter.The laser will blast a 1-billion-watt "bullet" of light at the moon 20 times every second. But the Earth's atmosphere will distort the beam once it leaves the telescope, so by the time it gets to the moon the beam will cover an area more than a mile wide. Murphy is hoping that at least one out of every 30 million photons hits a reflector and bounces back toward Earth. That would send about a billion photons back from each bullet.¡¡But by the time the reflected fitness equipment laser beam reaches Earth, it will have spread out to nearly 10 miles in diameter, so probably only about one out of 30 million reflected protons will actually be captured by the detectors. That data will be fed into a powerful computer, but all it will tell is the distance between the telescope and the reflector.¡¡He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were anywhere around in the moonlight. He looked again indoor playground at his father. Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish, the boy could tell by the clarity of his father's voice that the decision was not negotiable. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass and lowered it into the black water. The creature swished its powerful body and disappeared. The boy suspected that he would never again see such a great fish.That was 34 years ago. Today, the boy is a successful architect in New York City. His father's cabin is still there on the island in the middle of the lake. He takes his own son and daughters deep drawn fishing from the same dock.And he was right. He has never again caught such a magnificent fish as the one he landed that night long ago. But he does see that same fish-again and again-every time he comes up against a question of ethics.For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult. Do we do right when no one is looking? Do we refuse to cut corners to get the design in on stamping time? Or refuse to trade stocks based on information that we know we aren't supposed to have?We would if we were taught to put the fish back when we were young. For we would have learned the truth. The decision to do right lives fresh and fragrant in our memory. It is a story we will proudly tell our friends and grandchildren. Not about how we had a chance to beat the system and took it, but about how we did the right thing and were forever strengthened.
¡¡Recently I gave a dinner party for some close friends. To add a touch of elegance to the evening, I brought out the good stuff--my white Royal Crown Derby china with the fine blue-and-gold border. When we were seated, one of the dog collar guests noticed the beat-up gravy boat I'd placed among the newer, better dinnerware. "Is it an heirloom?" she asked tactfully.I admit the piece does look rather conspicuous. For one thing, it matches nothing else. It's also old and chipped. But that little gravy boat is much more than an heirloom to me. It is the one thing in this world I will never part with.The story begins more than 50 years ago, when I was seven years old and we lived in a big house along the Ohio River in New Richmond, Ohio. All that separated the house from the river was the street and our wide front lawn. In anticipation of high water, the ground floor had been built seven feet above grade.Late in December the heavy playground equipmentrains came, and the river climbed to the tops of its banks. When the water began to rise in a serious way, my parents made plans in case the river should invade our house. My mother decided she would pack our books and her fine china in a small den off the master bedroom.The china was not nearly as good as it was old. Each piece had a gold rim and a band of roses. But the service had been her mother's and was precious to her. As she packed the china with great care, she said to me, "You must treasure the things that people you love have cherished. It keeps you in touch with them."

Brother's wish
¡¡A friend of mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as dog beda Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it.Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again. "Will you stop where those two steps are?" the boy askeHe ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard cable supplierhim coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car.His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn¡¯t cost him a cent. And some day I¡¯m gonna give you one just like it . . . then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I¡¯ve been trying to tell you about.Paul got out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable punching holiday ride. That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when he said: "It is more blessed to give . . . She had called her mother that morning to wish her a happy Mother's Day£¬and her mother had mentioned how colorful the yard was now that spring had arrived. As they talked£¬the younger woman could almost smell the tantalizing aroma of purple lilacs hanging on the big bush outside her parents'back door.So off they went£¬driving the country roads of northern Rhode Island on the kind of day only mid£­May can produce£ºsparkling sunshine£¬unclouded azure skies and vibrant newness of the green growing all around. They went past small villages and burgeoning housing developments£¬past abandoned apple orchards£¬back to where trees and brush have devoured old homesteads.
Before they got halfway up the hill£¬the fragrance of the lilacs drifted down to them£¬and the kids started running. Soon£¬the mother began running£¬too£¬until she reached the top.There£¬far from view of passing motorists and hidden from encroaching civilization£¬were the towering lilacs bushes£¬so laden withsolar water heater supplier the huge£¬cone-shaped flower clusters that they almost bent double. With a smile£¬the young woman rushed up to the nearest bush and buried her face in the flowers£¬drinking in the fragrance and the memories it recalled.While the man examined the cellar hole and tried to explain to the children what the house must have looked like£¬the woman drifted among the lilacs. Carefully£¬she chose a sprig here£¬another one there£¬and clipped them with her husband's pocket knife. She was in no hurry£¬relishing each blossom as a rare and delicate treasure.Finally£¬though£¬they returned to their car for the trip home. While the kids chattered and the man drove£¬the woman sat smiling£¬surrounded by her flowers£¬a faraway look in her eyes.The man slammed on the brakes. Before stamping he could ask her why she wanted to stop£¬the woman was out of the car and hurrying up a nearby grassy slope with the lilacs still in her arms. At the top of the hill was a nursing home and£¬because it was such a beautiful spring day£¬the patients were outdoors strolling with relatives or sitting on the porch.¡¡The young woman went to the end of the porch£¬where an elderly patient was sitting in her wheelchair£¬alone£¬head bowed£¬her back to most of the others. Acrossdiscount golf clubs the porch railing went the flowers£¬in to the lap of the old woman. She lifted her head£¬and smiled. For a few moments£¬the two women chatted£¬both aglow with happiness£¬and then the young woman turned and ran back to her family. As the car pulled away£¬the woman in the wheelchair waved£¬and clutched the lilacs.This satisfied the kids£¬but not the husband. The next day he purchased half a dozen young lilacs bushes and planted them around their yard£¬and several times since then he has added more.¡¡I was that man. The young mother was£¬and is£¬my wife. Now£¬every May£¬our own yard is redolent with lilacs. Every Mother's Day our kids gather purple bouquets. And every year I remember that smile on a lonely old woman's face£¬and the kindness that put the smile there.
Once upon a time there was a forester. He wentgolf clubs into the woods to hunt, and after entering the woods he heard a sound of crying, as though it were a little child. Following the sound, he finally came to a tall tree, at the top of which a little child was sitting. His mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child. A bird of prey had seen him in her arms, flown down, picked him up in its beak, and then set him on the tall treThe forester climbed the tree, brought the child down, and thought, "I will vacuum sealertake the child home with me, and bring him up with my Lenchen.So he took him home, and the two children grew up together. The child whom he had found on the tree was called Foundling-Bird, because a bird had carried him away. Foundling-Bird and Lenchen loved each other so much, ever so much, that whenever they did not see one bumper car another they were sad.Now the forester had an old cook. One evening she took two buckets and began to fetch water. She did not go out to the well just once, but many times. Then Lenchen said, "Then I will tell you that last night old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing that. She said that if I would not tell anyone she would tell me. I said that I would be sure not to tell anyone, and she said that early tomorrow morning when father was out hunting, she would boil a kettle full of water, throw you into it, and cook you. But let us hurry and get up, get dressed, and run away together.So the two children got up, hurriedly got dressed, and went away.When merry go round the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the bedroom to get Foundling-Bird and throw him into it. But when she went to their room and to their beds, both the children were gone.Then she became terribly frightened and said to herself, "What will I say when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone. I must hurry and follow them and get them back again."

Rapunzel
There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It Steel Castingwas, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion, and it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, "if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, thought, "Sooner than let thy wife die, bring her some of the rampion thyself, let it cost thee what it will." In the twilight of the evening, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his Steel Castingwife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it with much relish. She, however, liked it so much -- so very much, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him. "How canst thou dare," said she with angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? Thou shalt suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one condition, thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into the world; it shall be well light boxtreated, and I will care for it like a mother." The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried,¡¡Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through the forest and went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The King's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but nonegeocell was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried, Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will for once try my fortune," said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never yet beheld, came to her; but the King's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame Gothel does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She world of warcraft gold said, "I will willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and thou wilt take me on thy horse." They agreed that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son -- he is with me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," cried the enchantress "What do I hear thee say! I thought I had separated thee from all the world, and yet thou hast deceived me. In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery.

The Splashes of Life
My grandfather took me to the fish pond on the farm when I was about seven, and he told me to throw a stone into the water. He told me to watch the circles created by the stone. Then he asked me to think of myself as that stone person.You may create lots of splashes in your life, but the waves that Investment casting come from those splashes will disturb the peace of all your fellow creatures," he said, "Remember that you are responsible for what you put in your circle and that circle will also touch many other circlesYou will need to live in a way that allows the good that comes from your circle to send the peace of that goodness to others. The splash that comes from anger or jealousy will send those feelings to other circles. You are responsible for bothThat was the first time I realized that each person creates the inner peace or discord that flows out into the world. We cannot create world peace if we are riddled with inner conflict, hatred, doubt, or angerWe radiate the feelings and thoughts that we holdblu ray ripper inside, whether we speak them or not. Whatever is splashing around inside of us is spilling out into the world, creating beauty or discord with all other circles of life.
¡¡It was lambing season. The neighbors' phone call brought my dad and me rushing to their barn to help with a difficult delivery. We found a lamb whose mother had died while giving birth. The orphan was weak£¬cold£¬ still shrouded with the placenta£¬ and walking impossibly on tall and wobbly legs. I bundled him up in my coat and put him in the pickup truck for the short ride back to our small family farm in rural Idaho. We drove through our barnyard£¬ passing cows£¬ pigs£¬ chickens£¬ dogs proximity readerand cats£¬ but Dad headed straight for the house. I didn't know it yet£¬ but that lamb was destined to become more than an ordinary sheep£¬ just as I was destined to be more than an ordinary seven-year-old boy¡ª¡ªI was about to become a mommyCradling the lamb in my arms£¬I brought him into the kitchen. While Mom and I wiped the lamb down with dry towels£¬Dad stoked the furnace with coal so that the newborn would have warming heat to drive away the cold. As I petted his curly little head£¬ the tiny creature tried sucking on my fingers. He was hungry We slipped a nipple over a pop bottle lost wax casting full of warm milk and stuck it into his mouth. He latched on£¬ and instantly his jaws pumped like a machine£¬ sending the nourishing milk to his stomach.As soon as he started eating£¬ his tail started wagging furiously. Then suddenly his eyes popped open for the first time£¬ and he looked me right in the eye. He gave me that miraculous moment-of-birth look that every mother knows. The look that says£¬ unmistakably£¬" Hello Mommy I'm yours£¬ you're mine£¬ ain't life fineA young boy with tousled blond hair and thick black glasses doesn't look much like a sheep. But this little lamb didn't care in the least. The important thing was that he had a mom¡ª¡ªmeI named him Henry and£¬ just like the nursery rhyme£¬ everywhere that Marty went£¬ the lamb was sure to go. The instant bond we shared that first day turned into the same deep kind of connection that develops between mother and child. We were always together. I'd feed£¬ exercise and bathe Henry. I'd scold him sternly when he got out in the road. Imagine the amazement and delight of my classmates when I had a couple of dogs and a sheep run to meet me at the school bus Every day after school£¬ Henry and I played games together until we both fell asleep£¬ side by side£¬ in the tall cool grass of the pasture.As I grew up£¬ Henry grew older. Never once£¬ however£¬ did he forget that I was his mom. Even as a full-grown ram£¬ he nuzzled me fondly£¬ rubbing his big woolly head against my leg whenever he saw me. Functioning as a four-legged lawn mower and wool-covered dog at the Becker farm£¬ Henry had a happy£¬ healthy£¬ full life for the rest of his days.People sometimes ask me why I became a veterinarian. The answer is£º Henry. At seven years old£¬ my love for animals was still just a spark. ButPrecision Casting it ignited into a flame at that magical moment when I became a mother to a hungry little lamb.
Men grew hungry£¬impolite and ungodly£®Neither right nor law was respected any longer£¬and the rule of hospitality was forgotten£®Dressed up in human form£¬Zeus visited Arcadia andThessaly£¬and disliked the deadly wrongs of men £®He decidedto clear the earth of them all£®Without hesitation he released therainy south wind and called upon the heartless Poseidon to help£®Soon the whole world sank in a vast ocean£¬ and the entire humanrace disappeared in the unheard of flood£¬all but two poor Thessalians £®These were an old childless couple£¬kind and faithful and contented with life£®The man was called Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha£®Son of Prometheus£¬Deucalion had been warned beforehand by his father of the coming flood world of warcraft gold and made himself a hugechest£®When the roaring flood came the couple hid themselves init and floated for nine days until it touched land again on Mt Parnassus£®The once active world presented a frightening sight£®It was all death and ruin£®Feeling lonely and unsafe£¬the old coupleprayed to the gods for help£®A sage instructed them to cast the bones of their mother about £®The son of the wise Titan£¬ havingguessed the true meaning of the mysterious command£¬ started throwing stones behind him£® A miracle occurred£® The stonesthat the man cast became men£»the stones that the woman threwturned into women£®Since then£¬people appeared on the land again£®The Heroic Age had begun£®

Crystal Shoes
I opened my eyes as large as possible, fearing to lose anything. Wearing a golden and shinning skirt, Mary appeared on the glorious stage. Her dress went well with the brilliant lights. Such scene seemed to be a mermaiden showing up under the glittering sunshine, meanwhile, I could feel all thePrecision Casting audience in the hall focused their eyes on her and it was also hard for me to remove my sights from her. She was so beautiful: her stature was slim; her long golden hair lay back in curls over her delicate ears. Dancing with a charming smile, she was fully absorbed in the Latin music. At this moment, she looked like a pretty butterfly flying on the splendid stage¡­ I could hardly believe my eyes.If parents had job descriptions mine would read: organize bills, playmates, laundry, meals, laundry, carpool, laundry, snacks, outings and shopping, and laundry.The only thing on my husband's description would be the word "fun" written in big red letters along the top. Although he is a selfless caregiver and provider, our children think of him more as a combination of a jungle gym and bozo and clown.Our parenting styles compliment each other.
His style is a nonstop adventure where no one has to worry about washing their Investment castinghands, eating vegetables, or getting cavities. My style is similar to Mussolini. I'm too busy worrying to be fun. Besides, every time I try, I am constantly outdone by my husband.I bought my children bubble gum flavored toothpaste and I taught them how to brush their teeth in tiny circles so they wouldn't get cavities. They thought it was neat until my husband taught them how to rinse by spitting out water between their two front teeth like a fountain.I took the children on a walk in the woods and, after two hours, I managed to corral a slow ladybug into my son's insect cage. I was "cool" until their father came home, spent two minutes in the backyard, and captured a beetle the size of a Chihuahua.I try to tell myself I am a good parent even if my husband does things I can't do. I can make sure my children are safe, warm, and dry. I'll stand in lineInvestment Casting for five hours so the children can see Santa at the mall or be first in line to see the latest Disney movie. But I can't wire the VCR so my children can watch their favorite video.I can carry my children in my arms when they are tired, tuck them into bed, and kiss them goodnight. But I can't flip them upside down so they can walk on the ceiling or prop them on my shoulders so they can see the moths flying inside of the light fixture.I can take them to doctor appointments, scout meetings, or field trips to the aquarium, but I'll never go into the wilderness, skewer a worm on a hook, reel in a fish, and cook it over an open flame on a piece of tin foil.I'll even sit in the first row of every Little League game and cheer until my throat is sore and my tonsils are raw, but I'll never teach my son how to hit a home run or slide into first base.As a mother I can do a lot of things for my children, but no matter wow goldhow hard I try--I can never be their father. When he told me he was leaving I felt like a vase which has just smashed. There were pieces of me all over the tidy, tan tiles. He kept talking, telling me why he was leaving, explaining it was for the best, I could do better, it was his fault and not mine. I had heard it before many times and yet somehow was still not immune; perhaps one did not become immune to such felony.He left and I tried to get on with my life. I filled the kettle and put it on to boil, I took out my old red mug and filled it with coffee watching as wow account each coffee granule slipped in to the bone china. That was what my life had been like, endless omissions of coffee granules, somehow never managing to make that cup of coffee.Somehow when the kettle piped its finishing warning I pretended not to hear it. That's what Mike's leaving had been like, sudden and with an awful finality. I would rather just wallow in uncertainty than have things finished. I laughed at myself. Imagine getting all philosophical and sentimental about a mug of coffee.
I must be getting old.And yet it was a young woman who stared back at me from the mirror. A young woman full of promise and hope, a young woman with bright eyes and full lips just waiting to take on the world. I never loved Mike anyway. Besides there are more important things. More important than love, I insist to myself firmly. The lid goes back on the coffee just like closure on the whole Mike experience.He doesn't haunt my dreams as I feared that night. Instead I am flying far across fields and woods, looking down on those below me. Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is only when I wake up that wow accountI realize I was shot by a hunter, brought down by the burden of not the bullet but the soul of the man who shot it. I realize later, with some degree of understanding, that Mike was the hunter holding me down and I am the bird that longs to fly. The next night my dream is similar to the previous nights, but without the hunter. I fly free until I meet another bird who flies with me in perfect harmony. I realize with some relief that there is a bird out there for me, there is another person, not necessarily a lover perhaps just a friend, but there is someone out there who is my soul mate. I think about being a broken vase again and realize that I have glued myself back together, what Mike has is merely a little part of my time in earth, a little understanding of my physical being. He has only, a little piece of me.

Beautiful life
Once President Roosevelt¡¯s house was broken into and lots of things were stolen.Hearing this, one of Roosevelt¡¯s friends wrote to him and advised him not to take it to his heart so much. President Roosevelt wrote back immediately, saying,¡±Dear friend, thank you for your letter to comfort me. I¡¯m all right Precision Castingnow. I think I should thank God. This is because of the following three reasons: firstly, the thief only stole things from me but did not hurt me at all; secondly, the thief has stolen some of my things instead of all my things; thirdly, most luckily for me, it was the man rather than me who became a thief¡¡It was quite unlucky for anyone to be stolen from.. However, President Roosevelt had such three reasons to be so grateful. This story tells us how we can learn to be grateful in our life. Being grateful is an important philosophy of life and a GREat wisdom.. It is impossible for anyone to be lucky and successful all the time so long as he lives Steel Castingin the world. We should learn how to face failure or misfortune bravely and generously and to try to deal with it. If so, should we complain about our life and become frustrated and disappointed ever since then or should we be grateful for our life, rise again ourselves after a fall? William Thackeray, a famous British writer, said, ¡°Life is a mirror. When you smile in front of it , it will also smile and so will it when you cry to it.¡± If you are grateful to life, it will bring you shining sunlight. If you always complain about everything, you may own nothing in the end. When we are successful, we can surely have many reasons for being grateful, but we have only one excuse to show ungratefulness if we fail.
I think we should even be grateful to life whenever we are unsuccessful or unlucky. Only by doing this can we find our weakness and shortcomings when we fail. We can also get relief and warmth when we are unlucky. This can help us find our courage to overcome the difficulties we mayCast steel face, and receive great impetus to move on. We should treat our frustration and misfortune in our life in the other way just as President Roosevelt did. We should be grateful all the time and keep having a healthy attitude to our life forever, keep having perfect characters and enterprising spirit. Being grateful is not only a kind of comfort, not an escape from life and nor thinking of winning in spirit like Ah Q. Being grateful is a way to sing for our life which comes just from our love and hope. When we put a small piece of alum into muddy water, we can see the alum can soon make the water clear. If each of us has an attitude of being grateful, we¡¯ll be able to get rid of impulse, upset, dissatisfaction and misfortune. Being grateful can bring us a better and more beautiful life.
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. He didn't hate the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it; overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma and the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else. Knowing he lost wax castingfelt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could havebuy wow gold won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of themThe envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal it's contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, three more joined it. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.