【推荐1】At the age of 4, I began attending the choir at St. James Church. My mother decided that joining the choir would provide me with musical instruction. I was initially joined by a lot of kids at St. James, making choir a fun, social task, but as I grew older, one by one, my friends began dropping out.

St. James was situated on the Upper East Side, one of the fanciest areas in New York, while I came from the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bushwick. Some children at the choir proudly showed off the signs of their good education whose cost was nearly as much as my mother’s yearly wage, while I wore my uniform of jeans and a T­shirt. They knew me as the girl from Brooklyn, the chorister who went to public school. This discrepancy (差异) made me very uncomfortable.

I begged my mom to let me follow the path of my friends, but she replied with a “NO”. As the years went on, I continued to bother my mother. Her answers began to lessen in severity. She said “Just do it for one more year” or “Are you sure?” Not seeing much hope, I began to withdraw my constant requests. Gradually I enjoyed finding my voice every week in church. After years in the choir, people started to acknowledge me for my voice rather than my address and I began to appreciate music and my habitual complaints (抱怨) about the choir were completely gone.

Through the choir, I learned that if you continue with something long enough, you will   receive some sort of benefit from it and maybe even grow to love it. Because of the choir，I found my voice in a small church. Because of the choir, I am willing to go wherever life will take me with an open mind.

【推荐2】Robert Lee Frost was born on March 26, 1874 in San Francisco, California. Frost attended Dartmouth College after graduating from high school in 1892. In 1894 his first poem, titled My Butterfly. An Elegy, was published in The Independent. Robert Frost went on to attend Harvard University in 1897 after marrying his wife Elinor in 1895. He left university due to health concerns, and moved to a New Hampshire farm.

The time spent on his farm in New Hampshire, where he tried to work the land, make a life, and provide for his family, was very hard for Robert Frost, his wife and children. However, Frost came to respect rural life and grew an appreciation of what those living around him went through. Because he so intimately knew rural country life, he was able to master describing it through prose(散文).These experiences on the farm inspired many of his well-known pieces of poetry, including The Tufts of Flowers and The Trial by Existence, both of which were published in 1906.

It was when Robert Frost decided to sell his farm in 1912 and move to England that he found publishers who were willing to shine a light on his poetry, something that was tough for a new poet to do in America. His first book of poems, A Boy’s Will, was published only a few months after his arrival in England, and North of Boston was published a year afterward.

By the time when Robert Frost made it back to his home country of America, he had built a solid career and reputation in England and was able to further his success. His standing allowed him to connect with influential publishers, such as Henry Holt, and get his poetry out into the hands of the American people. In 1916, Frost published Mountain Interval, which contained poems and stories he had written during his stay in England.

Robert Frost died on January 29, 1963 in Boston, Massachusetts at the age of 88. Before passing away, Robert Frost was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 1960 for his poems and contributions to American literature.

【推荐1】Everything was put neatly into my suitcase. I’m a flight attendant. I’m so organized, my half of the closet could be a display at The Container Store. My husband’s half of the closet? Just thinking about it made my head ache. I carried my suitcase downstairs. Bill was in the kitchen cooking. Looking at the messy kitchen, I shouted, “Why do you have to be so messy?” Bill looked hurt, “What?” I sighed and left for the airport.

On my last flight, an elderly couple had the seats in my section. They held hands during takeoff. Later I caught them looking into each other’s eyes. Something about that look was familiar. Then I realized: it was the look Bill and I had worn in our wedding photographs. I couldn’t resist asking them about the secret of their long-lasting marriage. “Have fun together” the man said, “and never take each other for granted.”

His words circled in my head long after we landed. Bill wasn’t perfect. But then, was I? I kept complaining about his messiness and forgot his kindness, his ability to see the bright side of every situation-qualities that ran so much deeper, the reasons I had married him in the first place

I took out my cell phone and called Bill. “I miss you already.” I said. “I miss you too, Kim,” he said. As soon as my flights were over, I rushed home. Bill met me at the door. “I have a surprise for you.” he said and led me into the kitchen. I glanced around the room. He really had worked hard. In spite of the fingerprints on that microwave floor, I could see our reflection in it: my husband and I, our smiles glowing with love for each other, just like in our wedding photos.

【推荐2】More than 25 years ago, Saroo Brierley lived in rural（农村）India. One day, he played with his brother along the rail line and fell asleep. When he woke up and found himself alone, the 4-year-old decided his brother might be on the train he saw in front of him-so he got on.

That train took him a thousand miles across the country to a totally strange city. He lived on the streets, and then in an orphanage（孤儿院）. There, he was adopted by an Australian family and flown to Tasmania.

As he writes in his new book, A Long Way Home, Brierley couldn't help but wonder about his hometown back in India. He remembered landmarks, but since he didn't know his town's name, finding a small neighborhood in a vast country proved to be impossible.

Then he found a digital mapping program. He spent years searching for his hometown in the program's satellite pictures. In 2011, he came across something familiar. He studied it and realized he was looking at a town's central business district from a bird's-eye view. He thought,   “On the right-hand side you should see the three-platform train station”—and there it was. "And on the left-hand side you should see a big fountain"-and there it was. Everything just started to match.

When he stood in front of the house where he grew up as a child, he saw a lady standing in the entrance. "There's something about me, " he thought—and it took him a few seconds but he finally remembered what she used to look like.

In an interview Brierley says, "My mother looked so much shorter than I remembered. But she came forth and walked forward, and I walked forward, and my feelings and tears and the chemical in my brain, you know, it was like a nuclear fusion（核聚变）. I just didn't know what to say, because I never thought seeing my mother would ever come true. And here I am, standing in front of her. ”

【推荐3】My mom takes pride in the fact that I was talking in three and four word sentences before I was ten months old. Some say it’s a gift while others simply think I talk too much.

As my thirties came to a close, I found myself reflecting on my life. I’m very happy and have no significant regrets. However, when I looked back on those times of difficulty, I saw a clear common denominator(特征); I didn’t seem to know when to stop talking. Whether it was hurting someone’s feelings, or having carelessly told a secret, the incident could have been avoided had I closed my mouth sooner. So I decided to practice the power of quiet.

To take this step, I needed to understand how people could sit comfortably in a group and not talk. Why does my husband feel completely content to say nothing in a conversation? He’s highly intelligent and has wonderful opinions but he’ll sit quietly and just listen. Even when he’s asked a pointed question, he’ll answer with few words while still communicating effectively. What a talent!

Can you imagine being happy just listening? In surveying those I know who talk less than I do, I got two answers—they either didn’t feel confident enough to speak up, or they just didn’t feel the need to participate in the conversation. Of course there were other reasons for not talking, but these were the two most popular answers.

The first one didn’t work for me. I’m just fine letting people know what I think about them, and hopefully it will make the conversation much more interesting. The second one didn’t work either. I do feel the need to participate. I feel it physically like an electrical pulse through my body; sometimes it’s so strong that it causes me to behave badly in the form of interrupting or speaking in an unusually loud voice. I had to look further.

An interesting thing happened on this journey to the power of quiet. During my weekly yoga class, it came to me like an answer so clear that the words rang in my head like soft, heavenly bells.

I talked too much so people would know I cared about them. It was my way of taking care of those I love. I decided before my fortieth birthday, that from that day forward, those around me would know I loved them, and cared what they thought and felt, but I was going to practice the power of quiet.

As my forty-second birthday approaches, I can say that deciding to talk less has been more about focusing on quality rather than quantity. I’ve found that listening more shows those who I care about that I really do care how they feel. Now when I break in, it means more to them. Oh, sure, I still have my short periods of talking too much, but for the most part this has been one resolution that I can call a success.