一颗小苹果树

　　Amanwalkinginthenightslippedfromarock.Afraidthathewouldfalldownthousandsoffeet,becauseheknewthatplacewasaverydeepvalley,hetookholdofabranchthatwashangingovertherock.Inthenightallhecoulsseewasabottomlessabyss.Heshouted,hisownshoutreflectedback--therewasnobodytohear.

　　Youcanimaginethatmanandhiswholenightofscare.Everymomenttherewasdeath,hishandswerebecomingcold,hewaslosinghisgrip.andasthesuncameouthelookeddownandhelaughed.Therewasnoabyss.Justsixinchesdowntherewasarock.Hecouldhaverestedthewholenight,sleptwell---therockwasbigenough---butthewholenightwasanightmare.

　　Fearisonlysixinchesdeep.Nowitisuptoyouwhetheryouwanttogoonclingtothebranchandturnyourlifeintoanightmare,orwhetheryouwouldlovetoleavethebranchandstandonyourfeet.

　　Thereisnothingtofear.

　　一个人在赶夜路时,突然从岩石上跌了下去,吓得他赶紧抓住了岩石上的树枝,因为他知道这一带有个深谷,一不小心就会跌入上千英尺的深渊.一晚上,他唯一能看到的就是深不见底的峡谷.他大呼救命,但只听到了自己的回音---没有人能听到他呼救.

　　你可以想象一下他的处境和整晚的恐惧.死神随时都可能降临.他的手开始发凉,渐渐地抓不住了...当太阳升起的时候,他朝下看了看,笑了.下面压根就没有什么深渊.在他下方六英尺的地方有一块大石头.岩石那么大,他本可以在那儿休息一个晚上,美美的睡上一觉,但昨晚他却在梦魇中度过.

　　恐惧只是六英尺的距离而已.接下来,到了你做决定的时候了：你是想要继续抓着树枝过梦魇一般的生活,还是更喜欢把手从树枝上松开,双脚着地?

　　真的没有什么好害怕的.

　　AHandfulofClay一撮黏土HenryvanDykeTherewasahandfulofclayinthebankofariver.Itwasonlycommonclay,coarseandheavy;butithadhighthoughtsofitsownvalue,andwonderfuldreamsofthegreatplacewhichitwastofillintheworldwhenthetimecameforitsvirtuestobediscovered.Overhead,inthespringsunshine,thetreeswhisperedtogetheroftheglorywhichdescendeduponthemwhenthedelicateblossomsandleavesbegantoexpand,andtheforestglowedthefair,clearcolors,asifthedustofthousandsofrubiesandemeraldswerehanging,insoftclouds,abovetheearth.Theflowers,surprisedwiththejoyofbeauty,benttheirheadstooneanother,asthewindcaressedthem,andsaid:"Sisters,howlovelyyouhavebecome.Youmakethedaybright."Theriver,gladofnewstrengthandrejoicingintheunisonofallitswaters,murmuredtotheshoresinmusic,tellingofitsreleasefromicyfetters,itsswiftflightfromthesnow-cladmountains,andthemightyworktowhichitwashurrying---thewheelsofmanymillstobeturned,andgreatshipstobefloatedtothesea.Waitingblindlyinitsbed,theclaycomforteditselfwithloftyhopes."Mytimewillcome,"itsaid."Iwasnotmadetobehiddenforever.Gloryandbeautyandhonorarecomingtomeindueseason."Onedaytheclayfeltitselftakenfromtheplacewhereithadwaitedsolong.Aflatbladeofironpassedbeneathit,andliftedit,andtosseditintoacartwithotherlumpsofclay,anditwascarriedfaraway,asitseemed,overaroughandstonyroad.Butitwasnotafraid,nordiscouraged,foritsaidtoitself:"Thisisnecessary.Thepathtogloryisalwaysrugged.NowIamonmywaytoplayagreatpartintheworld."Butthehardjourneywasnothing,comparedwiththetribulationanddistressthatcameafterit.Theclaywasputintoatroughandmixedandbeatenandstirredandtrampled.Itseemedalmostunbearable.Buttherewasconsolationinthethoughtthatsomethingveryfineandnoblewascertainlycomingoutofallthistrouble.Theclayfeltsurethat,ifitcouldonlywaitlongenough,awonderfulrewardwasinstoreforit.Thenitwasputuponaswiftlyturningwheel,andwhirledarounduntilitseemeda