One of the easiest things in the world is to become a fault-finder. However, life can be 1when you are not busy finding fault with it.

    Several years ago I2a letter from seventeen-year-old Kerry, who described herself as a world-class fault-finder, almost always 3by things. People were always doing things that annoyed her, and 4was ever good enough. She was highly self-critical and also found fault with her friends. She became a really 5person.

    Unfortunately, it took a horrible accident to change her 6Her best friend was seriously hurt in a car crash. What made it almost 7to deal with was that the day before the 8, Kerry had visited her friend and had spent the whole time criticizing her 9 of boyfriends, the way she was living, the way she related to her mother, and various other things she felt she needed to 10It wasn't until her friend was badly hurt that Kerry became 11her habit of finding fault. Very quickly, she learned to appreciate life rather than to 12 everything so harshly ( 刻薄) . She was able to transfer her new wisdom to other parts of her13as well.

    Perhaps most of us aren't as extreme at fault-finding,14 when we're honest, we can be sharply 15of  the world. I'm not suggesting you16problems, or that you pretend things are17than they are, but simply that you learn to allow things to be as they are—18most of the time, and especially when it's not a really big 19 .

    Train yourself to "bite your tongue" , and with a little 20, you'll get really good at letting things go. And when you do, you'll get back your enthusiasm and love for life.

    I was invited to attend a presentation at the Kentucky School. That evening I found gratitude had amazing1 to change our attitude and our life.

    The young musician Mr. Patrick was 2onto the stage in his wheelchair and began to play the piano. His fingers danced across the keys3 he made beautiful music. He then began to sing as he played, and it was wonderful. But what shocked me most was his4smile.

    Patrick was born with no eyes and an illness in the legs, which5him lame for life. However, as a child, he was6with artificial eyes and placed in a wheelchair. Before his first birthday, he discovered the piano. When his mom hit any7on the piano, and within one or two tries, he′d8 By his second birthday, he was playing “ Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”. His father was9 “We might not play baseball, but we can play music together.”

    When Patrick was at the University of Louisville, his father attended 10with him. He was also a part of the 214-member marching band！He was a blind, wheelchair-bound trumpet player; and he and his father did it together. His father11the night shift（夜班）in order to accompany his daytime band practice. Patrick says, “My dad′s my12”

    But even 13his unbelievable musical talent, it was Patrick′s “attitude of gratitude” that14my soul. On the stage, between songs, he talked to the audience about his life and about 15blessed he was with a great father. When his performance was over, Patrick and his father were on the stage together. The crowd 16 to their feet and cheered for over five minutes.

    We all face misfortune in our lives.17it′s not the hardship but how we18to it that will determine the joy and happiness in our lives. During19times, do we spend too much time feeling sorry for ourselves,20can we, with gratitude, learn how to dance in the rain？

    It was 7:00 am in Paris,France,and the taxi company had just called a second time to say they couldn't find my house.Once again I spelt out1even a blind person could follow.I glanced2at my watch,and waited.Only two hours remained3my flight left—and it was one and a half hours4to the airport.

    Outside,heavy rains were5.My house was so far north in the city that buses6only three times a day.

    The telephone rang again."Terribly sorry,"began the man at the taxi company.Then I realized that the taxi company,flooded with calls,could only7in-city runs.I had heard this happens when the8gets bad.I9into the phone that I had a10to catch and I would meet the taxi outside my house.

    Standing in the wind-driven rain,I looked11the road.No taxi.A car went by,the driver and passenger staring at the12foreigner in the downpour.

    13a white car appeared and14to a stop.A young man threw open the door,waving to me to get in.Shaking with cold and15,I climbed in.

    In the most16French,the man said he was called Will,with whom I had spoken three times that morning.He had left his post in the office and17here in his personal car.He18again,but didn't explain why no taxi would pick me up19me straight to the airport,he refused the 2,000 franc I pressed into his hand.

    A few hours later,as the storm-delayed plane20,I opened the newspaper.On the second page my eyes caught the headline of a short article: Taxi Strike Begins This Morning in Paris.

    I've been taking a bus to school for years. I found that most passengers keep to themselves and no one ever has a 1 with anyone else.

    About a year ago, an elderly man entered and said 2 to the driver, “Good morning!” Most people looked up, confused and 3, and the bus driver took it for granted and 4responded with a grunt (哼声). The next day the man 5 and again he said in a loud voice, “Good morning!” to the driver. Another grunt. By the fifth day, the driver finally agreed to accept the elderly man and 6 him with a little cheerful “Good morning!” Then the man 7,“My name is Benny.” The driver told the man he was Ralph.

    That was the first 8 any of us heard the driver's name and soon people began to talk to each other and say9 to Ralph and Benny. Soon Benny10 his cheerful “Good morning!” to the whole bus. Within a few days, his “Good morning!” was11 by a whole bunch of “Good mornings” and the entire bus seemed to be more 12. People got to know each other.

    “If a 13 is someone who makes something happen, Benny was the one who took a lead in showing friendship 14 us,” I thought.

    A month ago, something 15 happened and Benny didn't 16 in the bus. Everyone began to 17 about Benny and lots of people said he may have passed away. No one knew what to do and the bus got 18 again. So last week, I started to act like Benny and say, “Good morning!” to everyone and the whole bus cheered up again. I guessed I was the leader now. 19 Benny could come back to see what he had started really 20 a lot.

    Julie was one of my favorite students at the University of Nebraska. I remember her coming to me after class one day. While most students hurriedly left, Julie1to ask questions about the next week's exam.

    Julie never2it to the exam, though. The day after our conversation, she was tragically struck by a truck.

    In Julie's ward, her parents stood in quiet3. The physician entered, cleared his4, and said, “Your Julie has only a few5to live.” He felt the6to ask, “Would you consider donating some of her organs?”

    7, in a neighboring state, Mary leaned forward, her eyes following every movement of her child. She was8memories to enjoy when she could no longer9him.

    Several states away, John, 26, was reading to his sons, his body connected to a life-giving “artificial kidney”. Doctors had given him a10of only weeks to live. His only hope was a kidney transplant.

    Julie's grief-stricken parents11the physician's question in their mind. Julie had once said she wanted to be an organ donor12her death.13as they were, they turned to the physician, responding, “Yes. Julie always gave to others while living. She would want to give in death.”

    Within 24 hours, Mary was informed she would receive one of Julie's eyes, and John was told to prepare for a kidney transplant. Julie's other organs would give life and14to other waiting recipients.

    “Julie died right after her twentieth birthday. My heart breaks again and again, at each birthday, at each15: when she might have graduated; when she might have married…” says Julie's mother. “But Julie's life was a16to us. Knowing that in her death, she gave life and sight to others is17to us, and remembering that we carried out her18has helped us19 the loss of her.”

    I may have had a small part in teaching Julie how to live. But she, and her family, are still teaching me an even greater lesson how to20.

    To millions of readers, Jeff Zaslow was a bestselling author. But to me, Jeff was a(a) 1 mentor（导师）who gave countless hours of his time and energy to 2 authors.

    When I was in middle school, Jeff and his family 3 near our house. At a neighborhood party, I was a 4 kid playing basketball alone. Jeff walked over, introduced himself to me. He took a true interest in getting to 5 me, asking about my hobbies. Although we had just met, I had the 6 that this new neighbor truly cared about me.

    Looking back, Jeff was the first adult who 7 me like a peer（同龄人）, and it helped me find my confidence. At the time, I had no 8 that Jeff would become a mentor to me or that I would enter the writing 9.

    Twenty years later, I decided to 10 my first book. In search of 11 on developing a plan, I 12 to Jeff. Less than three hours later, his 13 landed in my mailbox. He invited me to call him any time, day or night. He asked me 14 questions and listened to my responses.

    When I started writing, I 15 Jeff's work as a model and his personal example as a reminder of what it meant to put other people first.

    In 2012, before I finished writing my book, Jeff lost his 16 in a car accident. I missed the 17 to tell him what an influence he had on me—not only as a writer, but as a role model for how to live a good life.

    Jeff Zaslow never got the chance to give his last 18. I don't know what he would have 19, but I know how he would have made you 20 during the talk. He would have amused you with humor and encouraged you to seek for the most meaningful moments in life.