"Some secrets are hidden from health," wrote John Updike in his poem "Fever".

    I have experienced the truth of Updike's observation. My excellent health kept me from seeing some things—things that became secrets of sort.

    One relates to my son Chris. When I lost my health in March, I discovered something I had missed about him.

    Christopher has been a scholar and athlete through high school. He has behaved responsibly, engaged in community service. He has had an impressive peer group of serious students.

    While I saw these things, I had missed before what I experienced while in hospital. Early on, Christopher offered the clearest and most forceful words about my need to be positive and to fight acute leukemia(急性白血病). He never left the room after a visit without making me promise that I would be mentally tough and positive.

    During the first week, he showed his own mental toughness, researching leukemia and learning what the chances were. He even stopped my doctor outside the room, introduced himself and asked directly what he thought of my chances. He processed the answer without overreaction.

    Christopher did admonish(劝告) me against my choice of words the first week at home. I had moved back into my room from weighing myself, discovering a thin figure I did not know. I announced to him and my wife, “dead man walking”. I thought it was a way to lighten the obvious. He saw it as negativity and was strongly against such thinking and talking.

    When I resisted taking medicine sometimes, Christopher formed a “good-cop-bad-cop” team with his mother. Betsy gently and patiently encouraged. He directly and forcefully insisted. He always made the logical arguments for why I needed to take some awful pills.

    My health had hidden something from me; my ill-health helped me to see it.

    As I walked along the Edgware Road, I felt as though the world was closing in on me. All the sounds I take for granted, had gone. I had entered a world of silence. This unsettling experience occurred a few weeks ago when I agreed to go deaf for the day to support the work of the charity Hearing Dogs for Deaf People, for which I am an ambassador.

    When I managed to take a cab to the office of my manager, Gavin, I couldn't hear what the taxi driver was saying to me. Conversation was impossible. Then, when I reached the office, I had to ring the intercom five times as I couldn't hear a response.

    Everybody said I was shouting at them—I simply wasn't aware of how loudly I was speaking as I couldn't hear my own voice. Gavin kept telling me my phone was ringing, but I didn't realize. I was too busy trying to concentrate on reading his lips. And when he tried to tell me a code to put into my phone, I had to keep asking him to repeat it, more slowly. Eventually he lost his patience and snapped at me: “Just give me the phone!” I was shocked.

    People couldn't be bothered to repeat themselves, so they kept trying to do things for me that I was perfectly capable of doing myself. I felt I'd lost control.

    Being deaf for the day was extraordinarily tiring. I had to work so hard to “listen” with my eyes, get people's attention and use my other senses to make up for my lack of hearing. It was a huge, exhausting effort.

    Until that experience I didn't realize how much I took my own hearing for granted, or the sorts of emotions and experiences deaf people go through. If a deaf person asks you to repeat something, never think: “It doesn't matter.” It does matter.

    Knowing how much her own children loved presents at Christmas, Ann Sutton always tried to seek help for one or two poor families. With a social worker mother, the Sutton children had inherited her commitment to service, and knew never to take their good fortune at Christmas for granted. This year, Kinzie, her seven-year-old daughter was thrilled that Santa Claus would make a special visit to a 22-year-old mother named Ashley who worked in a factory raising her 12-month-old son by herself.

    The phone rang on Sunday. A representative from a local organization was calling to say that the aid Ann had requested for Ashley had fallen through. No Santa Claus, no presents, nothing.

    Ann saw the cheer vanish from her children's faces at the news. Without a word, Kinzie ran into her bedroom. She returned, her face set with determination. Opening up her piggy bank, she put all the coins onto the table: $3.30. Everything she had.

    “Mom,” she told Ann, “I know it's not much. But maybe this will buy a present for the baby.”

    At a breakfast meeting the next day, Ann told her coworkers about her daughter's story. To her surprise, staff members began to open their purses and empty their pockets to help Kinzie. By day's end, the story of Kinzie's gift had spread beyond Ann's office. She received a call from an unknown donor. If a seven-year-old could give everything she had, he said, he should at least match her gift 100 to 1. He contributed $300.

    On Christmas Eve, Ann drove through the pouring rain to the small trailer where the Ashleys lived. Then she began to unload the gifts from the car, handing them to Ashley one by one.

    Ashley was very moved. Reflecting on a little girl's generosity, Ashley says she'll one day be able to do something similar for someone else in need. “Kinzie could have used that money for herself, but she gave it away,” Ashley says. “She's the type of kid I'd like my son to grow up to be.”

    When I was 8 years old, I decided to run away from home after a quarrel with my mother. With my suitcase(行李箱) packed and some sandwiches in a bag, I started for the front door.

    My mom asked where I was going. “I'm leaving home,” I said.

    “What's that you're carrying?” she asked.

    “Some clothes and food,” I replied.

    “If you want to run away, that's all right,” she said. “But you came into this home without anything and you can leave the same way.”

    I threw my suitcase and sandwiches on the floor and started for the door again.

    “Wait a minute,” Mom said. “You didn't have any clothes on when you arrived, and I want them back.”

    This infuriated me. I tore my clothes off — shoes, socks, underwear and all — and shouted, “Can I go now?”

    “Yes,” my mom answered, “but once you close that door, don't expect to come back.”

    I was so angry that I shut the door forcefully and stepped out of my home. Then I noticed down the street two neighbor girls walking toward our house. I was so shy that I saw the big spruce (云杉) tree in our yard and jumped under the low-hanging branches (树枝). A pile of dried-up brown needles (针状物) were beneath the tree, and you can't imagine the pain those sharp needles caused to my body.

    After I was sure the girls had passed by, I ran to the front door and knocked at it loudly.

    “It's Billy! Let me in!”

    The voice behind the door answered, “Billy doesn't live here anymore. He ran away from home.”

    Looking behind me to see if anyone else was coming down the street, I said, “Mom! I'm sorry. I'm still your son. Let me in!”

    The door opened and Mom's smiling face appeared. “Did you change your mind about running away?” she asked.

    “What's for supper?” I smiled back.

    Some people think that success is only for those with talent or those who grow up in the right family, and others believe that success mostly comes down to luck. I'm not going to say luck, talent, and circumstances don't come into play because they do. Some people are born into the right family while others are born with great intelligence, and that's just the reality of how life is.

    However, to succeed in life, one first needs to set a goal and then gradually make it more practical. And, in addition to that, in order to get really good at something, one needs to spend at least 10,000 hours studying and practicing. To become great at certain things, it'll require even more time, time that most people won't put in.

    This is a big reason why many successful people advise you to do something you love. If you don't enjoy what you do, it is going to feel like unbearable pain and will likely make you quit well before you ever become good at it.

    When you see people exhibiting some great skills or having achieved great success, you know that they have put in a huge part of their life to get there at a huge cost. It's sometimes easy to think they got lucky or they were born with some rare talent, but thinking that way does you no good, and there's a huge chance that you're wrong anyway.

    Whatever you do, if you want to become great at it, you need to work day in and day out, almost to the point of addiction, and over a long period of time. If you're not willing to put in the time and work, don't expect to receive any rewards. Consistent, hard work won't guarantee you the level of success you may want, but it will guarantee that you will become really good at whatever it is you put all that work into.

    The Taj Mahal (泰姬陵) is a love story, a sad and beautiful one. If it didn't exist, we would easily imagine that the story of its construction was simply a fairy tale. Three hundred years ago, there lived an Indian emperor called Shah Jahan. His wife was a beautiful and bright woman whom he loved greatly. Her title was Mumtazl Mahan: its shortened form Taj Mahan means "pride of the palace". In the year 1630 this beloved wife of the emperor died. He was so brokenhearted that he thought of giving up his throne. He decided out of his love for his wife, to build her the most beautiful tomb that had ever been seen.

    He summoned the best artists and architects from India, Turkey, Persia and Arabia and finally, the design was complete. It took more than twenty thousand men working over a period of 18 years to build the Taj Mahan, one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. The building itself stands on a marble platform 29 meters square and 67 meters high. Towers rise from each of the four corners. The Taj itself soars another 61 meters into the air. It is an eight-sided building made of white marble. The emperor planned to build an identical tomb of black marble for himself on the other side of the river connected by a silver bridge. However his son put him into a prison in the palace before he could finish, and for the rest of his life, he could only gaze across river at the tomb of his beloved wife.