Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mum, you must come and see the daffodils(水仙花)before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Lake Arrowhead. "I will go next Tuesday," I promised, a little unwillingly, on her third call.

    The next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible (看不见的) in the cloud and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see!"

    My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this weather all the time, Mum. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

    After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered sign that read "Daffodil Garden."

    We got out of the car and each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up amazed. Before me lay the most beautiful sight. Flows of flowers of different colors seemed poured down the peak and slopes. There were five acres of flowers! A sea of daffodil! It was like a fairyland all beyond description.

    "But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn. "It's just one woman." Carolyn answered. "That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house. On the patio (露台), we saw a poster." Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.

    The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs (鳞茎)" it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

    I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than fifty years before, had begun one bulb at a time to bring the beauty and joy to the mountain top. Just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world where she lived and created something of magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

    When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small amounts of daily effort, we too can accomplish great things. Everyone can do something to change the world.

    What are American high schools like? Well, I'm happy to tell you what I know.

    When I started school here, it had already been a week since the school opened. At this school, freshmen usually go on a trip for about three days at the beginning of school. Unfortunately I missed that wonderful trip, which would have been the best time to get to know my classmates. I was really sad. I wished I'd known about it earlier.

    Despite the disappointment, however, I gradually adapted to my new life and school.

    There is a space in the basement of the teaching building where students chat and meet each other. As we do not always have the same classrooms and classmates, the school wants us to get to know each other there. Students usually come to school early, sit in that space and have fun. Around the space, there are many lockers for students to leave their books in, so that students do not have to carry a heavy schoolbag everywhere.

    It really surprises me that we have almost no textbooks. We only have textbooks for World History and Algebra 2 and they are big and heavy, like bricks. For other classes, we only need binders (活页夹) with paper in them. Without textbooks, students learn things freely and actively. For example, my humanities teacher just teaches us what is in her mind at the time. We never know what we will learn.

    Another difference between American schools and Chinese schools is that American schools care about students' morality more than their academic studies. For example, if you do not finish your homework, you will just be asked to do it later, but if you cheat or lie, you will get a warning or even be kicked out.

    I think that most students here are good at schoolwork as well, but compared to Chinese students, they can make learning a more joyful experience. I think we should take the good points from our two different kinds of education to perfect our approach to studying.

    We started in 1993 with a simple idea: that people could help each other by sharing stories about their lives. For years people had told our founders, motivational speakers Jack and Mark, inspiring stories about themselves. Jack and Mark included these stories in their talks, and their audiences repeatedly asked if they had ever been published.” That story about the boy and the puppy—is that in a book anywhere?” a parent asked Jack. “That story about the boy with the amputated(截肢)leg who became a tennis star, I need to read that to my staff,” a manager told him. Jack was asked repeatedly, “ Is that story in a book anywhere?”

    Eventually Jack and Mark decided their audiences must be on to something, so they collected the best 101 stories they'd been told in a book. They called it Chicken Soup for the Soul because they wanted it to provide comfort just like their grandmother's cooking.

    They took the book to New York, hoping to sell it to one of the big publishers but every single one turned them down. The project appeared to have stalled until they met Peter Vegso, the owner of a small health and wellness polisher in Florida named HCI. Peter read some of the stories and loved them, so he decided to give the book a chance, becoming Chicken Soup for the Soul's founding publisher.

    Never, in Jack and Mark's wildest dreams had they imagined what the book would become. Chicken Soup for the Soul turned into one of the most popular and loved books ever published, selling 11 million copies around the world. Readers asked for more stories so we published a “second helping” of Chicken Soup for the Soul and a third after that, Today, we've published more than 250 books, which have become the best-selling trade paperback book series of all time.

    My grandfather died more than twenty-five years ago. I was fifteen then. He was kind, strong, fair, and very funny. When I was a young musician, he was my biggest fan. I played my violin for him when he visited, and he loved everything, but each time he had one request. “Could you play Amazing Grace%” he asked, full of hope and with a twinkle in his eye, because he knew my answer was always, “I don't know that one!” We went through this routine at every major holiday, and I always figured I'd have time to learn it for him later.

    About the time I entered high school and started guitar, Grandpa got cancer. The last time I saw him alive was Thanksgiving weekend in 1985. My mom warned us that Grandpa didn't look the same anymore and that we should prepare ourselves. For a moment I didn't recognize him. He looked so small among all the white sheets. We had all gathered in Ohio for the holiday, and I'm sure we all knew we were there to say good-bye. I can see now that Grandpa held on long enough to see us each one more time. I remember how we ate in the dining room and laughed and talked while Grandpa rested in his hospital bed. I wonder if it was sad for him to be alone with our voices and laughter. Knowing Grandpa, he was probably content.

    The next morning, I found my moment alone with him. I pulled out my guitar, tuned to his appreciative gaze, and finally played for him Amazing Grace. I had worked on it for weeks, knowing it never mattered whether I actually played it well and choosing not to believe as I played that it was my last concert for my biggest fan. The cancer had stolen his smile, but I saw joy in his eyes. He held my hand afterward, and I knew I had done something important.

    I argued with people all through college about my music major. I was told by strangers that music wouldn't make me any money and it wasn't useful like being a doctor. But I know first-hand that with music I was able to give my grandpa something at a point when no one else could.

    I use tea to refer to a snack(点心)taken in the late afternoon or early evening (ie after getting home from work but before the main meal, which I call dinner) and I don't think that's rare(罕见)at all. I think the difference is when you originally had your main meal and I would agree that it's a class thing, not a north/south thing(I've heard the midday meal referred to as both lunch and dinner by different people in all areas of England).

    Dinner was always the main meal. In the past, working class men worked near(or even at)home and came home for their main meal at midday, and so that was their dinner. Middle class men worked in offices far from their homes(often working in the city centre, and living outside the city) and so couldn't go home for a meal at midday. They therefore had a light meal at midday and had their main meal with their family in the evening after they go home from work, so dinner was in the evening. Because most children at state schools were working class, we still use dinner for school meals. For middle and upper class people, tea was a light snack served in the mid-afternoon at which ladies(who didn't, of course, go out to work)could entertain their friends. For working class people, however, tea was the light snack you had before going to bed. Supper, for all classes, was the light snack you had before going to bed.

    However, because work patterns changed and many working class people started eating their main meal in the evening too, dinner, tea and supper started to become interchangeable for them. Also many working class families have since become middle class, so the terms have become less of a current class thing(if class still exists at all) and more of a system of terminology inherited(家族术语)from grandparents etc, different from family to family. When I was a child(Southern English, middle class family, but with working class forebears(祖先)) we called the midday meal dinner and the evening meal tea, but when I was in my early teens I had a new stepfather(from a family that had always been middle class for generations)who used lunch and dinner, and that's what I've used ever since.

    Why is it that many people who have suffered a major shock, such as divorce or death of a family member, seem to be weaker against a variety of major and minor illness? One common idea among psychologists has been that people could deal with suffering more effectively if they were able to understand and accept it. Indeed, many experts stress the value of expressing thoughts and feelings connected with upsetting events.

    Recently, a team of medical researchers studied the links between describing psychologically painful events and long-term health. In one experiment healthy college students were asked to write about either personally disturbing experiences or ordinary topics over a period of four days. In the months afterwards, students who had chosen to show their inner thoughts and feelings in their writing visited the health center for illness much less often than those who had written about everyday topics.

    In an experiment that followed, another group of healthy students were given the four-day writing exercises. Some chose to write about highly personal and upsetting experiences (including loneliness, problems with family and friends, and health). When questioned immediately afterwards, they said that they did not feel any better. However, their blood samples(样本) taken before and after the experiment showed evidence of an improved resistance to illness. The white cells that fight off bacteria and viruses had increased their reaction and sensitivity to these "invaders". This trend continued over the following six weeks, when another blood sample was taken. Individuals who showed the best results were those who wrote about topics that they had actively kept from telling others about.

    The researchers suggested that failure to face up to painful experience can be a form of stress itself, and can increase the possibility of illness. It follows, then, that actively dealing with a major shock makes possible its understanding and acceptance. The answer is not to suffer in silence. It may not always be possible to talk about personal problems, but writing them down will help the body to fight disease in the long run.