“Cleverness is a gift while kindness is a choice. Gifts are easy—they're given after all. Choices can be hard.”—Jeff Bezos

    I got the idea to start Amazon 16 years ago. I came across the fact that the Internet usage was growing at 2,300 percent per year. I'd never seen or heard of anything that grew that fast, and the idea of building an online bookstore with millions of titles was very exciting to me. I had just turned 30 years old, and I'd been married for a year. I told my wife MacKenzie that I wanted to quit my job and go to do this crazy thing that probably wouldn't work since most start-ups don't, and I wasn't sure what to expect. MacKenzie told me I should go for it. As a young boy, I'd been a garage inventor. I'd always wanted to be an inventor, and she wanted me to follow my passion.

    I was working at a financial firm in New York City with a bunch of very smart people, and I had a brilliant boss that I much admired. I went to my boss and told him I wanted to start a company selling books on the Internet. He took me on a long walk in Central Park, listened carefully to me, and finally said, “That sounds like a really good idea, but it would be an even better idea for someone who didn't already have a good job.” That logic made some sense to me, and he convinced me to think about it for 48 hours before making a final decision. Seen in that light, it really was a difficult choice, but finally, I decided I had to give it a shot. I didn't think I'd regret trying and failing. And I suspected I would always be haunted by a decision not to try at all.

    After much consideration, I took the less safe path to follow my passion, and I'm proud of that choice. For all of us, in the end, we are our choices.

A

    “My wife of 24 years, Marie Roberts, was raised in New York City, worked in the fashion industry, and never got her hands dirty,” said Keith Roberts. “Then, nine years ago, I wanted to move to Florida and reconnect to my country life, but how would I inspire（激发）the same feeling in, well, a city woman? I brought her a two-month-old potbellied pig.”

    At first sight, Marie, then 46, was smitten. So soon she took in another abandoned（遗弃）pig. And thus began Sugarloaf Mountain Farm, her animal shelter in central Florida. With the couple's two children grown up, these animals would now be Marie's babies.

    The Farm now has 300 rescues, from alpacas to donkeys, each with its own story. “A gentleman had a litter of eight pigs, and all but one died,” says Marie. “She weighed one pound and suffered great pain. For three weeks straight, I fed that baby every hour, day and night, seldom sleeping.” Till now, Marie still gets five to ten requests a day to save animals and has to turn most down. “If she can't rescue the animal, she works with that person to find a solution,” Keith says. “She's not only saving animals; above all, she's giving their owners peace of mind.”

    “A woman called from her nursing home,” Marie remembers. “Her pigs would be abandoned if she couldn't find a suitable home. 'I only have a few months, and I need to know that they'll be safe,' she said.” So Marie drove three hours and got them. Soon after, Marie received a note from the woman's daughter. “Dear Marie,” she wrote. “My mom went peacefully, as she went knowing that they are forever loved. Thank you for being Mom's angel.”

    “She is a ball of energy,” Keith adds. “A few times she's gone so far in some situations, like when she locked herself in the chicken coop（鸡舍）. I found her sitting in it with ten chicks nestled in her lap.” That is exactly what you'd expect from a true mother hen.

    At your next meeting, wait for a pause in conversation and try to measure how long it lasts.

    Among English speakers, chances are that it will be a second or two at most. But while this pattern may be universal, our awareness of silence differs dramatically across cultures.

    What one culture considers a confusing or awkward pause may be seen by others as a valuable moment of reflection and sign of respect for what the last speaker has said. Research in Dutch and also in English found that when a silence in conversation stretches to four seconds, people start to feel uneasy. In contrast, a separate study of business meetings found that Japanese people are happy with silences of 8.2 seconds — nearly twice as long as in Americans' meetings.

    In Japan, it is recognized that the best communication is when you don't speak at all. It's already a failure to understand each other by speaking because you're repairing that failure by using words.

    In the US, it may originate from the history of colonial (殖民地) America as a crossroads of many different races. When you have a complex of difference, it's hard to establish common understanding unless you talk and there's understandably a kind of anxiety unless people are verbally engaged to establish a common life. This applies also to some extent to London.

    In contrast, when there's more homogeneity, perhaps it's easier for some kinds of silence to appear. For example, among your closest friends and family it's easier to sit in silence than with people you're less well acquainted with.

    Five years ago, when I taught art at a school in Seattle, I used Tinkertoys as a test at the beginning of a term to find out something about my students. I put a small set of Tinkertoys in front of each student, and said: "Make something out of the Tinkertoys. You have 45 minutes today — and 45 minutes each day for the rest of the week."

    A few students hesitated to start. They waited to see the rest of the class would do. Several others checked the instructions and made something according to one of the model plans provided. Another group built something out of their own imaginations.

    Once I had a boy who worked experimentally with Tinkertoys in his free time. His constructions filled a shelf in the art classroom and a good part of his bedroom at home. I was delighted at the presence of such a student. Here was an exceptionally creative mind at work. His presence meant that I had an unexpected teaching assistant in class whose creativity would infect(感染) other students.

    Encouraging this kind of thinking has a downside. I ran the risk of losing those students who had a different style of thinking. Without fail one would declare, "But I'm just not creative."

    "Do you dream at night when you're asleep?"

    "Oh, sure."

    "So tell me one of your most interesting dreams." The student would tell something wildly imaginative. Flying in the sky or in a time machine or growing three heads. "That's pretty creative. Who does that for you?"

    "Nobody. I do it."

    "Really-at night, when you're asleep?"

    "Sure."

    "Try doing it in the daytime, in class, okay?"

The best way to deal with sports injuries {#blank#}1{#/blank#} (be) to stop them happening in the first place. Knowing the rules of the game you're playing and using the right {#blank#}2{#/blank#} (equip) can go a long way towards preventing injuries. If you think you've been injured, pull {#blank#}3{#/blank#} (you) out of the game or stop {#blank#}4{#/blank#} (do) your activity or workout. Let a coach or parent know what happened in case you need to see a doctor. Athletes, {#blank#}5{#/blank#}Play contact sports like football, often suffer severe head and neck injuries. Keep the injured person still with his or her head {#blank#}6{#/blank#} (hold) straight while someone calls for emergency {#blank#}7{#/blank#} (medicine) help. If the person{#blank#}8{#/blank#} (lie) on the ground, do not try to move him or her.

Your first question after a sports injury will {#blank#}9{#/blank#} (probable) be, "When can I play again?" This depends on the injury and what your doctor tells you. Even if you can't return to your sports right away, a doctor might have advice {#blank#}10{#/blank#} what you can do to stay fit. Always check with your doctor before trying any activity following an injury.

The idea of climbing Mt.Qomolangma disgusted me. The mountain came to represent the opposite of everything that I loved and respected about climbing. What had once been the final mountain climbing goal became the focus of a commercial guiding industry. Over the years, the crowds at Base Camp grew, leaving behind tons of trash. Whenever I was asked whether I'd climb Mt. Qomolangma, my answer was always the same： not interested. 

That was probably where my personal Mt. Qomolangma story would have ended, were it not for an old friend Thom Pollard and his obsession （迷恋） with one of the greatest mysteries. In 1999, he began to explore and found the remains of George Mallory, the celebrated British climber who disappeared while he was attempting to be the first to climb Mt. Qomolangma. But Mallory's partner, Sandy Irvine, and the camera he had likely carried, were not found. The mountain climbing world has been wondering whether they might have reached the top in 1924. 

Pollard's story moved me. I began to pack for the climb and expected that our advanced equipment would make it manageable, perhaps easy. I was wrong. On the highest point on the planet, I was more tired than I'd ever been in any climbing. Along the way, I continuously tipped my hat, not just to Mallory and Irvine but to anyone who has the drive to push himself or herself up this route. My search was in vain, but I began to reconsider Mt. Qomolangma.

I witnessed many climbers, who were much more than just self-centered tourists. We shared route information, weather forecasts, and family photos — all united around a common goal. 

I went to Mt. Qomolangma to seek Irvine. But in the end, I found something more difficult to get： the spirit that Irvine and Mallory shared. It was hiding in plain sight, right where it has always been： inside the brave souls who risk so much to follow in storied adventurers' footsteps up Mt. Qomolangma.