In the early nineteenth century, people did mot use stamps. They had to pay for the letters or postcards they received. People didn' t like it. First, it was not convenient. Second, sometimes they had to pay for the letters they didn't want to receive at all, such as advertisements. Third, the postage was high at that time. And it was difficult for postmen to collect the postage.

Then one person thought out an idea to solve this problem. He was Rolland Hill, a schoolmaster in England. He was the first to put forward a proposal to use stamps in 1850s. He thought it would be much more convenient for people. They could go to a nearby post office to buy stamps and put them on the envelopes before they sent letters. The post office could simply put seals on the stamps to prevent them from being used again. That was a good idea and it was accepted by tile government finally.

On the evening there will be a big family dinner. People who work far away from their homes will try to come back for the union. After dinner, people will light the lanterns which are usually red and round. Children will play with their own toy lanterns happily.

At night the moon is usually round and bright. People can enjoy the moon while eating moon-cakes which are the special food for this festival. They can look back on the past and look forward to the future together. It is said that there was a dragon in the sky. The dragon wanted to swallow up the moon. To protect the frighten the dragon away.

The first season is spring. The three months in it are March, April and May. During that time we have warm weather and fine days. All plants come to life. Animals wake up from hibernation. It is time for farmers to get ready for their fields.

The second season is summer. The three months are June, July and August. The weather is very hot and it often rains. People can go swimming and sightseeing. It is time for all things to grow up.

The third season is autumn. The three months are September, October and November. The weather becomes cooler and cooler. Leaves begin to fall to the ground. It is the harvest time for farmers.

The fourth season is winter. December, January and February are the three months of that season. The weather is very cold, and most of the plants die at that time. Sometimes it snows. People can enjoy skating and skiing. But winter doesn' t stay with us for a long time, for spring comes again soon.

I walked with my face looking at the floor so people would not see the ugly me. Sometimes people, even strangers, asked me embarrassing questions or made hurtful remarks. When the kids played games, I was always the "monster." I grew up imagining that everyone looked at me with disdain, as if my appearance were my fault. I always felt like I was a freak.

Yet Mama would say to me, at every turn, "Hold your head up high and face the world." It became a litany that I relied on. She had started when I was young. She would hold me in her arms and stroke my hair and say, "If you hold your head up high, it will be okay, and people will see your beautiful soul." She continued this message whenever I wanted to hide.

Those words have meant different things to me over the years. As a little child, I thought Mama meant, "Be careful or you will fall down or bump into something because you are not looking." As an adolescent, even though I tended to look down to hide my shame, I found that sometimes when I held my head up high and let people know me, they liked me. My mama's words helped me begin to realize that by letting people look at my face, I let them recognize the intelligence and beauty behind both eyes even if they couldn't see it on the surface.

In high school I was successful both academically and socially. I was even elected class president, but on the inside I still felt like a freak. All I really wanted was to look like everyone else. When things got really bad, I would cry to my mama and she would look at me with loving eyes and say, "Hold your head up high and face the world. Let them see the beauty that is inside."

When I met the man who became my partner for life, we looked each other straight in the eye, and he told me I was beautiful inside and out. He meant it. My mama's love and encouragement were the spark that gave me the confidence to overcome my own doubt. I had faced adversity, encountered my problems head on, and learned not only to appreciate myself but to have deep compassion for others.

"Hold your head up high," has been heard many times in my home. Each of my children has felt its invitation. The gift my mama gave me lives on in another generation.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids—and even him-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens—we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.

There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who'd had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, This is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.
I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're following those instructions.

If anything is real, the heart will make it plain.

Love

Love plays a pivotal role on out life. Love makes you feel wanted. Without love a person could go hayward and also become cruel and ferocious. In the early stage of our life, our parents are the ones who shower us with unconditional love and care, they teach us about what is right and wrong, good and bad. But we always tend to take this for granted. It is only after marriage and having kids that a person understands and becomes sensitive to others feelings. Kids make a person responsible and mature and help us to understand life better.

Happiness and Sorrow

Materialistic happiness is short-lived, but happiness achieved by bringing a smile on others face gives a certain level of fulfillment. Peace of mind is the main link to happiness. No mind is happy without peace. We realize the true worth of happiness when we are in sorrow. Sorrow is basically due to death of a loved one, failure and despair. But these things are temporary and pass away.

Failure and Success

Failure is the path to success. It helps us to touch the sky, teaches us to survive and shows us a specific way. Success brings in money, fame, pride and self-respect. Here it becomes very important to keep our head on out shoulder. The only way to show our gratitude to God for bestowing success on us is by being humble, modest, courteous and respectful to the less fortunate ones.

Hope and Despair

Hope is what keeps life going. Parents always hope their children will do well. Hope makes us dream. Hope builds in patience. Life teaches us not to despair even in the darkest hour, because after every night there is a day. Nothing remains the same we have only one choice keep moving on in life and be hopeful.

Life teaches us not to regret over yesterday, for it has passed and is beyond our control. Tomorrow is unknown, for it could either be bright or dull. So the only alternative is work hard today, so that we will enjoy a better tomorrow.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:

"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

"What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups and were eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee and the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and do not change the quality of Life. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided. So, don't let the cups drive you ... enjoy the coffee instead."

“Do you have a problem remembering to spring forward or fall back?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.”What gets to me is staying up until 2 a.m. to change my clock.”

The Cupid arrow unexpectedly struck me: the boy overwhelmed my heart, abruptly, preoccupying my mind, and I couldn’t even focus on my academic work. I grasped a pen and put it to paper and composed so-called “poems”. I have scrawled poems to let out my feelings since mom instilled in me a love of literature as she read bedtime stories when I was a kid.

Abducted by love, as you can imagine, I was so absent-minded that one day I left my uncovered poem right on my desk:
“Infatuation turned out to be a huge crash.

Cross the bridge,

Never again will my heart scratch.

Memories of our days have been dashed.

\And you are the one I can only make a best wish.”

Back from school, I almost forgot the poem stuff. As usual, mom got dinner ready, and let out no sign of suspicion. With a black stare at the dishes, I had no appetite at all.

Mom cleared her throat with a concerned tone:”What’s wrong with you, honey?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I STAMMERED. “I have a load of homework to do.”

I franticly finished my dinner and rushed to my study. The more I tried to concentrate on my homework, as you might expect, the louder his name popped up in my mind. Like a flash, the poem laying quietly on my desk sprung up to my mind. Mom must have read it! My heart was pounding anxiously. I’ve never mentioned him to mom, much less to reveal the secret that he was my significant other. What a shame to be queried that I was drawn out in young love. Leaning against the door, I stared at the ground and shuffled my plod. I was trying hard to invent a perfect excuse to hide my would-be embarrassment, when the knock-knock-knock broke my train of thought.

“Are you ok? Can I have a word with you now?”

“Sure.” I stuffed my poem in the drawer.

Mom came in, a smile flickering across her face:” I have read your masterpiece, your love poem. To a sunny boy?”

Chances of concealing and escaping were slim, but I still retorted:”No. Never.”

“Oh, get it off!” She blinked with a gleam in her eyes.

I blurted out:” It was just, you know, incidentally, sort of graffiti. ”

“Have you showed your stuff to anyone else?”

“No, my pals will make fun of me!” I put my chin against my chest.

“I was talking to your professors, people who really know about poetry.” Mom gazed earnestly at me. “Go for it, and keep on writing your own poems. Why not submit it to a magazine?”

“Well…” I looked up to mom whose eyes were filled with anticipation and love. Mom patted my shoulder. “By the way, I always think you, my cute daughter, deserve a better guy. What is called love right now is just a bee in the bonnet, which is never eternal. Mr. Right is gonna be there for you in the future.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, and spilt the beans about the mysterious boy. Now he is no more than a chapter that has been long closed. As for mom and me, fortunately enough, she always has faith in me that I am a big girl who can handle things pretty well and get everything in control. That is also why I appreciate all the inspiration and understanding from my mom, my sweet mom.

“After keeping a long ponytail for more than five years, I finally cut my hair short for a different style,” Wendy said with her hands constantly stroking her short hair.

“You look refreshing. That fits you well. Also, the color you chose highlights the new image,” Maggie added.

“Yup, thanks. You also look perfect. Your straight hair gives you a look of mature woman, a tender, gorgeous and well-behaved woman,” Wendy giggled.

I sacrificed almost 4 hours just to accompany these two young ladies for hairdressing. Fearing to miss the door-closing time, we quickened our steps.

As we approached the door of the apartment building, we saw our headmaster standing outside, blazing with indignation. Forcing smiles on our faces, we rushed towards the door guarded by the teacher. Obviously the teacher could clearly see us. She shouted, “Where have you been? Why are you not answering my calls? Your classmates have gone out to look for you. Now please call them back immediately!.”

We were at a loss about what had happened. Against the dim moonlight, we saw two familiar figures moving slowly toward us. By their stature, we recognized they were our roommates. We yelled to them as loudly as we could. Finally, Linda and Bone came back with a group of strangers.

“What happened to you? Are you OK? Why are you so late?” Linda asked eagerly and anxiously. At the same time, a guard said, “ Where have you been? Why didn’t you make a phone call to tell your friends that you would be late? They worried about you so much.”

Seeing Linda and Bone in pajamas and slippers, we all felt ashamed, bowing our heads at our mistake. At the same time, we were appreciating the pure love we owned and the faithful friends we had. We were feeling very warm as if by a gust of warm air.
“The haircuts took too much time. We thought it would not last that long. However…” Maggie murmured.

“We are terribly sorry. It’s our fault. It will never happen again,” Wendy swore.

“We did not do this on purpose. Maggie and Wendy didn’t take their cell phones and my cell phone was uncharged. Therefore, we couldn’t make any call,” I explained.

The teacher cut us short, “It is too late. Please go back to your bedrooms now.”

Noggin with repeated apologies, we filled out a record form of our coming back late. We expressed our thanks to the guards and went into the building.

As we were approaching our bedroom, we all tip-toed in order not to disturb others’ sleep. But to our surprise, none of our roommates were asleep. They were all sitting up worrying about us.

Finally we got into our beds. I felt for a new battery in my bag and inserted into my cell phone. Maggie and Wendy also put their cell phones into their school bags.
Before closing my eyes, I thought a lot about this little incident. It suddenly dawned upon me that we are actually part of one big family. Whatever we do may affect the life of the others. More than ever have I understood Confucius civility code “Do not do unto others what you would not have them do unto you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling safe and satisfied, for I knew my friends will always be there for me.