The Lark Burying Its Father
The Lark (according to an ancient legend) was created before the earth itself, and when her father died by a fell disease, as there was no earth, she could find for him no place of burial. She let him lie uninterred for five days, and on the sixth day, being in perplexity, she buried him in her own head. Hence she obtained her crest, which is popularly said to be her father's grave-hillock.
Long Ago, there was a bird who sang but just once in her life. From the moment she left the nest, she searched the longest leaf for a thorn tree, never resting until she found one. Then she began to sing, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. But carry away in the rapturous honor song, she impaled herself on the longest, sharpest thorn. As she was dying, she rose above her own agony to out-sing even the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird traded her life for that one song and the whole world was captured to listen! And God, in His heaven smiles~
As her very best was brought out only of the cost of great pain. Driven by the thorn, with no fear for her death to come. But when we push the thorn into our breast, We know…We understand…And still…we choose the pain of the thorn…
One Good Turn Deserves Another
One good turn deserves another. That's the lesson five store clerks learned recently.
Every day a strange old man came to their supermarket to buy groceries. "Once he came in wearing only one shoe," recalled one of the clerks. And although he grumbled a lot and they often had to stand there listening to him, he was a nice old man. The clerks befriended him and even helped him carry his groceries. One day when he fell ill with cancer, they even visited him in the hospital. The old man turned out to be a retired doctor. And, of course, when he died, he didn't die a pauper. He left US$70,000 in his will to thank them for their kindness.
When I was 5 years old, my father was invited to go duck hunting with some business associates. He asked them if I could come along. They reluctantly agreed.
After the appropriate amount of preparation and training, we started to the duck blind a little before 5am. It was a perfect day for duck hunting, cold and wet. After hours of waiting, ducks were sighted flying toward the blind. The other hunters waited anxiously and quietly for them to come into firing range, but the excitement got the best of me. I jumped up with my toy rifle and in true machine-gun style shouted "Bla-da-da-da-dow!"
The ducks veered off safely and no more were to be seen that day. My father and I never went duck hunting again.
The Ant And The Dove（螞蟻與鴿子）
One day a little ant was walking along the bank of a stream. His foot slipped and he fell into the water. “Oh, help, help!” cried the ant. A dove was sitting on a branch of a tree over the stream and heard his cry of help. “Oh, poor ant!” said the dove. “I will help the ant.”
The dove pulled off a leaf and dropped it near the ant. “Here is a leaf. Climb on it,” said the dove. The ant climbed on it at once and floated to the bank.
A few days after this a hunter found the dove and was going to shoot her. Just then the ant passed by and said to himself, “This time I must help the dove.” The ant ran to the hunter and bit his foot hard. The hunter sprang up and missed to shoot the dove. The dove said to the ant, “Thank you very much, my little friend. You have saved my life,” and she could fly away happily.