Outside her cottage, old Mrs. Taylor was hanging out laundry on a wire line, unaware that some children were hiding in a nearby tree watching her every move. They were determined to find out if she really was a witch.（女巫）

    They watched nervously as she took a broomstick(长柄扫帚）to sweep the dirt from her stone steps. But much to their disappointment, she didn't get on the broomstick and fly off. The old lady only looked up when her hen began to make sounds loudly —signaling that she had laid an egg in the nest on the top of the haystack.(干草堆).

    The old lady put aside her broomstick and walked to the haystack, followed by Michael, a black cat she had rescued from a fox trap. With only three legs, it was hard for Michael to keep up with his mistress. The cat was proof for the children that only a witch would own a black cat with three legs! Crawling further along the branches, they could clearly see the haystack.

Mrs. Taylor was standing on a wooden box with the new-laid egg in one hand. Placing the egg in her pocket, she readied herself to climb down. Then, without warning, the box broke under her and she crashed to the ground. The children were in horror.

“Should we go and help her?” asked Mia.

    “What if it's a trick?” replied Patrick. “She probably knows we're here. Witches know things like that!”

After thinking for a while, Julia said “Anyway, we should go and check whether she is all right.”

Approaching prudently, they could see a wound on the old lady's forehead. She had knocked her head on a stone and was unconscious.

“Go and get Dad,” Mia yelled to her brothers. “Tell him about the accident.”

The boys didn't need another excuse to leave. They ran as fast as they could for help, hoping that Mrs. Taylor would not regain consciousness and turn the girls into frogs.

    Later, in the hospital, the old lady smiled her thanks. “I was so lucky that you lovely children happened to be passing when 1 fell. I must have yelled quite loudly.”

    The children exchanged guilty glances, but were very pleased that she was not a witch after all!

    I still clearly remember that day. I was on the side of the road for about four hours with my big jeep. I put signs in the windows that said,“Need a jack (千斤顶）.”

    As I was about to give up, a truck stopped and a man got off. He looked at the situation, made a judgment and went back to take a jack. After about two hours, we finished the job with sweats. We were both dirty. His wife took a large bottle of water for us to wash our hands.

    I tried to put $20 in the man's hand, but he wouldn't take it, so I went to give it to his wife quietly. I asked their little girl where they lived. She said they lived in Mexico. They were in Oregon now, so Mommy and Daddy could pick cherries for the next few weeks. After that, they were going to pick peaches and then go home.

    After I said goodbye and started going back to my jeep, the girl ran to me and handed me a tamale(玉米粽子)for lunch. I thanked them again and walked back to my jeep. When I opened the tamale, what did I find inside? My $20! I ran to the truck and the guy rolled down his window. He started shaking his head, smiled and  said in English“Today you, tomorrow me. ” Then he drove away, with his daughter waving to me from the back.

    This family, working on a seasonal basis where time is money, took a couple of hours to help a stranger while others passed by quietly.

    Since then I've helped many people like the Mexican family. I didn't accept their money. Every time I was able to help, I felt as if I was putting something in the bank.

    Carlos had been in New York for five months now, and he detested it. He would never forget the day when the plane landed. His parents had big smiles on their faces as they discussed the wonderful new life they would have in this great city. His older sister and brother looked in wonder and excitement at the buildings. Uncle Miguel and Aunt Esperanza thought of the good jobs they would get. Grandmother and Grandfather told him what a lucky boy he was to come to this wonderful city. But Carlos was lonely. The city looked big, cold, and dirty to him.

    They lived in an apartment in Manhattan. There were stores and cinemas close to their home. But Carlos didn't want these things. He loved his home in the country in Puerto Rico; he loved the green fields, the hot sun, and the lovely beaches.

    He didn't want to go to school because it made him think of his friends at home. And he didn't want to learn a new language that could never describe the world as beautifully as his own.

    He began to go down to the dock(码头), because this made him feel closer to Puerto Rico. He sat down and watched the ships. He would often find a man also sitting there looking at the sea. The man was Eric-a taxi driver who came there to escape from the noisy traffic.

    Eric noticed the young boy and felt his sadness. One day he said, “Yes, it's hard to leave your homeland. I remember when I left Norway 15 years ago. I know it's hard to start a new life in a new country, but let's face it. I did it and you can do it, too.”

    From then on the taxi driver and the young boy began to develop a deep friendship.

    Once there was an 11-year-old boy who went fishing with his father in the middle of the Finger lake. On the day before salmon(鲑鱼) season opened, they were fishing early in the evening, catching other fish with worms. Then the boy tied on a small silver lure (鱼饵) and put it into the lake. Suddenly he felt that something very big pulling on the lure. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully brought the fish beside the bank. Finally he lifted the tired fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a salmon.

    The boy and his father looked at the big fish. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 pm – two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. “You'll have to put it back, son,” he said.

    “Dad!” cried the boy, “There will be other fish,” said his father. “Not as big as this one,” cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were in sight in the moonlight. He looked again at his father.

    Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he had caught the fish, the boy could tell from his father's voice that the decision couldn't be changed. He threw the huge salmon into the dark water. The big fish disappeared. The boy thought that he would never again see such a big fish.

    That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is an successful architect in New York City. He often takes his own son and daughters to fish at the same place.

    And he was right. He has never again caught such a large fish as the one he got that night long ago. But he does see that same fish … again and again … every time he has an ethical (伦理的，道德的) decision to make. For, as his father had taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.

    When I was a very little child, I remember watching TV and seeing other children suffer in other parts of the world. I would talk to myself, "when I grow up, when I can become rich, I'll save kids all over the world."

    At the age of 17, I began my career here in America, and by 18, I started my first charity organization. I went on to team up with other organizations in the following years, and met, helped, and even lost some of the most beautiful souls, from six-year-old Jasmina Anema who passed away in 2010 from leukemia (白血病)—her story inspired thousands to volunteer as donors, to 2012 when my grandmother lost her battle with cancer, which is the very reason and the driving force behind the Clara Lionel Foundation (CLF). We're all human. And we all just want a chance: a chance at life, a chance in education, a chance at a future, really. And at CLF, our mission is to impact as many lives as possible, but it starts with just one.

    People make it seem too hard to do charity work. The truth is, you don't have to be rich to help others. You don't need to be famous. You don't even have to be college-educated. But it starts with your neighbor, the person right next to you, the person sitting next to you in class, the kid down the block in your neighborhood. You just do whatever you can to help in any way that you can. And today, I want to challenge each of you to make a commitment to help one person, one organization, one situation that touches your heart. My grandmother always used to say, "If you've got a dollar, there's plenty to share."

I was at the grocery shop1 last-minute items for Easter dinner when I 2 from the corner of my eye the most wonderful flower I had ever seen. It was, as I later learned, a peony (牡丹).

I was so3 that I was going to buy myself flowers. I'd4 done this before. On the way home, I wondered why I had never really been5 to any flowers before.6 , I'd been on this earth for over half a century.

7 in England, my immigrant (移民) family viewed flowers as 8 since survival was our priority. Dad worked on the railways, and Mom, before her 9 , worked in a factory. Our small garden was filled with vegetables10 flowers, as Mom and Dad often said, "These will keep us alive if we can't get them from the 11 ."

We also built an underground oven (烤炉), where Mom and Dad would make flatbread (薄面饼). The smell of this flatbread12 us and anchored (使扎根) us to our lives in England. When Mother's Day came, Mom would say, "Why waste money on flowers? They'll just die. Buy shoes or coats instead." So, we kids made food for her at home. My mother 13 years ago after a long illness. If she were still alive today, she' d probably 14 her head at me for buying flowers.15 , I still wish I'd had the chance to show her this beautiful flower and buy it for her on Mother's Day