d me and hurried over； leaving the other recess teacher in mid…conversation。
“It’s still stinging me。” I cried as the circle of children opened for Miss Bell。
“Which foot is it？” she asked。
I stuck up my right foot as she stooped over to inspect2 it。 Just then； feeling a new sting； I yelped in pain。
“Here。 Let’s take off your shoe。” instructed Miss Bell； squatting down to get the shoe。
Then； I remembered the holes in my socks。 Welfare socks didn’t last long。 Holes in socks were a mon thing for our family in the years following the Great Depression。 Shoes got fresh paper inserted every Saturday to cover the holes in their soles。 But socks with holes were just accepted。 Socks with holes in the heels got pulled down so the hole wouldn’t show。 Where there was a hole； there would soon be a blister。 Every week as she washed our clothes； Mama would say；“Even if we’re poor and our clothes are worn out。 we can still be clean。 ”
I began to cry from the pain in my foot； but I refused to let Miss Bell take off my shoe。 I could not bear for her and the others to see the hole in my faded red sock。 “e on； then。 Let’s go inside to the office。”
A trail of first graders followed after us until Miss Bell told them to stay on the playground。 I did my best to curb my tears。 Yet； each time the thing in my shoe stung me； I would let out a loud； “Oh； oh； oh！” Tears raced down my contorted3 face。
Mr。 Stewart； the principal； rushed into his office。
“What’s wrong？” he asked。
“Something is stinging her right foot； but she will not let me take off her shoe。 ”said Miss Bell。
Mr。 Stewart lifted me onto his desk。 “Let me take a look。” He just about had the shoe off when I saw the hole。 I grabbed the shoe and pulled it on and held it。 The stinging worsened the tighter I clasped4 the shoe。
“Why won’t you let us take off your shoe？” Mr。 Stewart asked as he looked from me to Miss BelI and back at me in puzzlement。 。。
食袜蚁（3）
Miss Womble； the fifth—grade teacher； came into the office。 “Can I help？ I know her；she lives next door to me。 ”
“I suspect ants are in her shoes and stinging the living daylights out of her； but she won’t let us take off her shoes。” related Miss Bell。
Miss Womble was a great neighbor。 She had even played Annie—over with us on occasion。 She put both hands on my shaking shoulders and looked into my distressed； red eyes。
“Oh； yes；” she said； as if remembering a fact。“I had a bite from one of those ants。 Did you know they are sock eaters？ By the time I got my shoe off； that ant had eaten almost the entire bottom off my sock。” She nodded her head up and down as she looked at the other two adults。 “Must be sock…eater ants。”
They returned the nod； as if they； too； had been bitten by sock…eating ants。
“Let me see here。” She freed my heel from the shoe。 “Just what I thought。 Those sock ants have eaten part of her sock。”
Miss Bell opened the medicine cabinet； got a cotton ball； and saturated it with alcohol。 Miss Womble slipped off my shoe and sock and shook both of them over the gray trash bucket。 Two red ants fell into the waiting container。 A stray one ran for the wall； but Mr。 Stewart’s shoe stopped him。
My swollen foot throbbed5。 My stomach hurt。 My head ached。
Stroking the alcohol ball across the angry bites； Miss Womble lifted her head and smiled at me。 “I think she’s going to be okay now；” she said； as she glanced toward the two adults。
The bell rang； ending the recess period。 “It’s class time。” Mr。 Stewart remarked； as he and Miss Belt hurried to their duties。
The alcohol felt cool on the savage welts。
“You were a pretty brave girl to take that many bites。 I think you should leave this shoe and sock off for a while。” She helped me off the desk。“Wait for me after school； and we’ll walk home together。”
Pride can be a wonderful； terrible thing。 I knew that Miss Womble had saved my pride with her sock…eating ant story。 She had seen that I would rather be stung to death than to let others see my poverty。 This kind； insightful teacher had taught me a lesson of passion that I have tried to apply in my thirty…seven years of teaching。
无声的爱
佚名
他们相爱在明媚的春日。她曾将苦涩洁白的樱花撒满樱树枝头，一片凄美的花瓣飘落，不经意间，装进了爱意浓浓的信封，对此他一无所知。长长的路途没有尽头，花瓣已经渐渐退色，只留下一股春天的芬芳。笑容溢满他的脸庞，像一个人陷入温柔的回忆里。他不知她曾经来过。
第二年夏天，因为浓浓的思念，她更靠近他了，他没有察觉。她把自己深藏在一只贝壳里．只将爱的召唤传递给他。在那只贝壳滚落到他的脚下之前，已被她握在手中好久，上面还有她的温度。犹豫的脚步在沙滩上留下忧郁的足迹，他在含着珍珠的贝壳前驻足。它是那样明亮，那样与众不同。于是，他笑了。他将它拣起，抛向大海，之后，久久地凝望，像是有过一段温柔的思绪。他不知她曾经来过。
他把她赶走后，忧郁的秋日随之而来。她躲在一棵树后，亲吻着一片飘落在自己发间的树叶，偷偷地望着他，而他没有察觉。她轻轻地将叶子放在如镜的湖面，让它接受九月秋风的抚摸。风吹向他，携带着那片叶子，上面满是她心中的温暖。他对停在脚下的叶子扬起微笑，却不明白为什么觉得应该拣起那片疲惫的树叶，放入怀中再给它温暖。他不知她曾经来过。
那个晚冬，她的生命走到了尽头，而他却毫不知情。一片丝绸和银片般柔软纯洁的雪花，飘落在他的睫毛上，他微笑地看着彩虹般的七彩水滴滑落，不知道为什么，甚至包括这微笑，他都想要落泪。他永远也不会知道，她曾经来过。
这是一个有些凄美的故事。爱，隐在深处，默默地付出，从来不考虑回报，为的只是让对方幸福、快乐。这就是爱，真爱，是一种奉献、一种实际行动。爱虽无声，却深深入心。
The Silent Love
Anonymous
That bright springtime； when they loved each other； she had scattered without him knowing it the branch full of bitter white of a cherry tree in bloom and a delicate petal had slipped； like randomly； in the envelope with the love letter。 The petal had faded away before reaching the end of the long way； leaving behind it only a little spring perfume that made him smile like one does to a mild memory。 And he didn’t know that she had been。
Next summer； when； for missing him too much； she had gotcloser without him knowing it。 She was hiding only to send to him the call of love in that shell she had so long warmed up in her hands before making it roll over； down to his feet。 The hesitating steps leaving melancholic traces on the sand had stopped near the pearly shell； brighter and so much different from all the others； and smiling； he had picked it up and thrown it in the sea watching long after it； as after a tender thought。 And he didn’t know that she had been。
The sad autumn that followed； after he had driven her away。 She was watching him from behind a tree without him knowing it and； kissing the falling leaf that had stopped in her hair。 She had laid it on the water mirror slightly touched by the mild September wind； blowing it towards him with all warmth of her heart。 He had smiled to the tired leaf stopping at his feet without understanding why he had felt that he would have picked it up and embraces it against his chest。 And he didn’t know that she had been。
That late winter when she won’t be any longer without him knowing it a snowflade made of silk and silver will fall down drop full of rainbows without knowing why； even smiling。 He will feel like crying。 And he will never know that she had been。
。 最好的txt下载网
初 恋（1）
约翰·沃尔特斯
我记得，当时的阳光洒落在她的发丝上。她转过头，我们四目相对，在那间吵闹的五年级教室里，我感觉到了一些东西，觉得心底遭到了一击。我的初恋就此开始了。
她叫雷切尔，我昏昏沉沉地度过了中学，看到她，我的心就怦怦地跳，有她在时，我说话就有些结巴。我就像一只不幸的小昆虫，在夜晚的阴暗处被她窗前暗淡的灯光吸引着。
当看到她放学回家，走在林荫小路上时，我整个人就呆滞了。可她好像一直什么都察觉不到。在家时，我回想着与她的每一次邂逅，为自己的不善言辞而懊恼。即便如此，当我到了青年时，我仍然感到她对我深情的宽容。
“成为情侣”这件事暗示了我们还不成熟。她那犹太正教的教养和我自己天主教徒的踌躇犹豫使我们表现出了一种未婚者的腼腆，连亲吻都是一件遥不可及的事，即使我的渴望是多么强烈。在舞会上，我想方设法邀请她跳舞，我们的拥抱令她笑了起来，她那纯洁干脆的笑声让我痛恨自己所想的一切。
总而言之，我对雷切尔的爱一直是单恋。中学毕业后，她考上了大学，我参了军。第二次世界大战爆发后，我被派到海外。有一段时间，我们保持着联系，她的来信成为了那些难熬的无休止的漫长岁月中最幸福的时刻。有一次，她给我寄了一张她的泳装照，我浮想联翩，在后来的一封信里我提到了结婚的可能。但几乎是立即，她的回信少了，也很少提及个人的事情。
我回国后的第一件事就是去找雷切尔。她母亲开了门，说雷切尔已经很久没住在这里了，她与在大学里认识的一个医学院的学生结婚了。“我原以为她写信通知你了。” 她的母亲说。
我最终在等待复员时收到了她的“亲爱的约翰”一信。她委婉地解释了不能和我结婚的原因。回首过去，我可以很快恢复，尽管在开始的几个月里，我认为自己活不下去了。就像雷切尔一样，我找到了另一个女孩，我试着用一种深厚的爱和永恒的责任来照顾她，直到现在。
可是，最近，在间隔了40年之后，我收到了雷切尔的来信。她的丈夫过世了，她经过我所在的城镇，通过我的朋友打听到了我的住址，我们相约见面。
我感到好奇而兴奋。在过去的几年里，我没有挂念过她，她突然在一个早晨给我打了电话，这令我很惊讶，就要跟她见面了，我又感到很震惊。这位坐在餐桌前头发花白的女人就