Chicken broth for soul 101 read. "chicken bouillon"

23.06.2020

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Story about dad for younger schoolchildren. An interesting story about how dad and son cooked broth from chicken. And what happened in the end, learn by reading this story to the end.

Victor Dragunsky. Chicken bouillon

Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. On the head of the chicken was a big red scallop. Mom hung her over the window and said:

- If the dad comes before, let it cook. Pass?

I said:

- With pleasure!

And Mom went to the institute. And I took out watercolor paints and began to draw. I wanted to draw a squirrel as she jumps in the forest in the trees, and I first went out well, but then I looked and saw that I didn't get a squirrel at all, but some uncle, similar to Moidodyra. Belkin's tail turned out like his nose, and branches on the tree - like hair, ears and hat ... I was very surprised how it could do it, and when Dad came, I said:

- Guess, dad, what did I paint?

He looked and thought:

- Are you dad? You look good!

Then dad looked as he said and said:

- Ah, I'm sorry, it is probably football ...

I said:

- You are some kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?

- No, I just want to eat. Do not know what for lunch?

I said:

- Won, outside the window chicken hangs. Swari and eat!

Dad pulled off the chicken from the window and put it on the table.

- Easy to say - Swari! You can cook. Cook is nonsense. The question is, in whatever form to eat it? From chicken you can cook at least hundreds of wonderful nutritious dishes. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, but you can roll the ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - called "Kiev" - fingers losing. You can cook a chicken with noodles, and you can pick it up with an iron, pour garlic, and it will work out, as in Georgia, "Tobacco chicken". You can finally ...

But I interrupted him. I said:

"You, dad, swari something simple, without irons." Something, you understand, the fastest!

Dad immediately agreed:

- True, son! What is important to us? Eating Pamrets! That you grabbed the very essence. What can be welded by the peasors? The answer is simple and clear: broth!

Dad even hands the hand.

I asked:

- Do you know how to broth?

But dad just laughed.

- What should I be able to? - He had even blocked her eyes. - Broth is easier than a paired turnip: put into the water and wait, when it is welded, that's all the wisdom. Solved! We will cook broth, and very soon we will have a dinner of two dishes: on the first - broth with bread, on the second - the chicken is boiled, hot, smoking. Well, quit your repincial brush and let's help!

I said:

- What should I do?

- Looking! See, there are some hairs on the chicken. You are their Sostrigi, because I do not like broth shaggy. You are comprehensive with these hairs, and I'll go to the kitchen and put the water boil!

And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother's scissors and began to cut the hair on the chicken one by one. At first I thought they would be a bit, but then I looked and saw that a lot, even too. And I began to agreed, and tried to quickly cut, as in the hairdresser, and sinking with scissors through the air when I switched to the hairs to the hairs.

Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:

- From the sides more remove, otherwise it will be under the box!

I said:

- Not very quickly cuts out ...

But here dad suddenly how to clap my forehead:

- Lord! Well, stupid we are with you, Deniska! And how I was forgotten! Start a haircut! It must be cut on fire! Do you understand? So do everything. We fell it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no haircuts, not shaving. Behind me!

And he grabbed the chicken and ran with her in the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because one already stood a saucepan with water, and began to burn chicken on fire. She was great and smelled to the entire apartment of Palo wool. Dad turned her with her side on his side and sentenced:

- Now! Oh and a good chicken! Now she will burn all of us and will become clean and white ...

But the chicken, on the contrary, became some kind of black, all some kind of charred, and the dad finally redeemed the gas.

He said:

- In my opinion, she somehow unexpectedly processed. Do you like smoked chicken?

I said:

- Not. It was not blocked, it's just all in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash it out.

He was directly delighted.

- You're doing fine! - he said. - You are smart. It's good heredity. You are all in me. Well, a friend, take this chicken chicken and her thoroughly under the crane, and then I'm already tired of this from this.

And he sat down on the stool.

And I said:

- Now, I am Her MiG!

And I approached the sink and let the water, put it under it our chicken and began to rub her right hand with all my might. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately blicked my hands to the most elbows. Dad swayed on a stool.

"That's," I said, "that you, Dad, made it." Not completely dismissed. There are a lot of soot.

"Void," said Pope, "Saya is only from above." Can not she consist of soot? Wait!

And Dad went to the bathroom and brought me a big piece of strawberry soap from there.

- on, - he said, - mine as it should! Name!

And I began to put this unfortunate chicken. She has become some kind of distilly look. I was pretty great lazy, but she was very poorly laid off, dirt stood with her, it was already, probably, from half an hour, but she did not become cleaner.

I said:

- This damned rooster is only smeared from soap.

Then Dad said:

- Here is a brush! Take, Crying her good! First the back, and then everything else.

I began to rub. I drive myself with all my might and in some places even wiped the skin. But I was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly came to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and tormented every second to jump out. And dad did not go with his stool and commanded everything:

- Tighter three! Lovely! Hold for the wings! Oh you! Yes, you, I see, do not know how to wash the chicken.

I then said:

- Dad, you try myself!

And I handed him a chicken. But he did not have time to take it, as suddenly she jumped out of my hands and rode under the furthest locker. But dad was not confused. He said:

- Feed the Mop!

And when I filed, Dad became a mop to straight it from under the closet. He first from there a grazhaw old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly delighted, because I thought I was completely lost, and he was here, my dear.

Then dad pulled out the chicken finally. She was all in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her behind the paw and the tops again under the crane. He said:

- Well, now hold on, blue bird.

And he was pretty purely rolling her and put it in a saucepan. At this time, Mom came. She said:

- What is your defeat?

And Dad sighed and said:

- Cook chicken.

Mom said:

"Just now dipped," said Dad.

Mom removed the lid from the saucepans.

- Soli? She asked.

But Mom sniffed a saucepan.

- gave it? - she said.

"Then," said Dad, "when he cooks."

Mom sighed and took out a chicken from a saucepan. She said:

- Deniska, bring me apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, a mountain-chef.

And I ran to the room, took the apron and captured my picture from the table. I gave my mother apron and asked her:

- Well, what did I paint? Guess, mom!

Mom looked and said:

- Sewing machine? Yes?

Here, - I said, - that you, Dad, has done. Not completely dismissed. There are a lot of soot.
"Void," said Pope, "Saya is only from above." Can not she consist of soot? Wait!
And Dad went to the bathroom and brought me a big piece of strawberry soap from there.
- on, - he said, - mine as it should! Name!
And I began to put this unfortunate chicken. She had some kind of distorted look. I was pretty great nicked her, but she was very poorly laundered, dirt flowed from her, it was probably decided from half an hour, but she didn't become cleaner.
I said:
- This damned rooster is only smeared from soap.
Then Dad said:
- Here is a brush! Take, Crying her good! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I terrain, in some places I even wiped the skin. But I was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly came his back and began to spin in my hands, slide and thoroughly knocked out every second. And dad did not go from his stool and all commanded:
- Tighter three! Lovely! Hold for the wings! Oh you! Yes, you, I see, do not know how to wash the chicken.
I then said:
- Dad, you try myself!
And I handed him a chicken. But he did not have time to take it, when she suddenly jumped out of my hands and rode under the furthest locker. But dad was not confused. He said:
- Feed the Mop!
And when I filed, Dad became the mop to screak out her from under the closet. He first from there a grazhaw old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly delighted, because I thought I was completely lost, and he was here, my dear.
Then dad pulled out, finally, chicken. She was all in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her behind the paw and the tops again under the crane. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rather purely rolled her and put it in a saucepan. At this time, Mom came. She said:
- What is your defeat?
And Dad sighed and said:
- Cook chicken.
Mom said:
- For a long time?
"Just now dipped," said Dad.
Mom removed the lid from the saucepans.
- Soli? She asked.
But Mom sniffed a saucepan.
- gave it? - she said.
"Then," said Dad, "when he cooks."
Mom sighed and took out a chicken from a saucepan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me apron, please. We will have to finish everything for you, the mountain chefs.
And I ran to the room, took the apron and captured my picture from the table. I gave my mother apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I paint? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?

CHICKEN BOUILLON

Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. On the head of the chicken was a big red scallop. Mom hung her over the window and said:
- If dad will come before, let it cook. Pass?
I said:
- With pleasure!
And Mom went to the institute. And I took out watercolor paints and began to draw. I wanted to draw a squirrel as she jumps in the forest in the trees, and I first went out well, but then I looked and saw that I didn't get a squirrel at all, but some uncle, similar to Moidodyra. Belkin's tail turned out as his nose, and the branches on the tree like hair, ears and cap ... I was very surprised how it could do it, and when dad came, I said:
- Guess, dad, what did I paint?
He looked and thought:
- Fire?
- Are you dad? You look good!
Then dad looked as he said and said:
- Ah, I'm sorry, it is probably football ...
I said:
- You are some kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?
And he:
- No, I just want to eat. Do not know what for lunch?
I said:
- Won, outside the window chicken hangs. Swari and eat!
Dad pulled off the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
- Easy to say, Swari! You can cook. Cook is nonsense. The question is in what form to eat it? From chicken you can cook at least hundreds of wonderful nutritious dishes. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, but you can roll the ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - called "Kiev" - your fingers lick. You can cook a chicken with noodles, and you can pick it up with an iron, hide garlic and work out, as in Georgia, "Tobacco chicken". You can finally ...
But I interrupted him. I said:
"You, dad, swari something simple, without irons." Something, you understand, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed:
- True, son! What is important to us? Eating Pamrets! That you grabbed the very essence. What can be welded by the peasors? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed the hands.
I asked:
- Do you know how to broth?
But dad just laughed.
- What should I be able to? - He had even blocked her eyes. - Broth is easier than a paired turnip: put into the water and wait, when it is welded, that's all the wisdom. Solved! We cook broth, and very soon we will have a dinner of two dishes: on the first - broth with bread, on the second - boiled chicken, hot, smoking. Well, quit your repincial brush and let's help!
I said:
- What should I do?
- Looking! See some hairs on the chicken. You are their Sostrigi, because I do not like broth shaggy. You are comprehensive with these hairs, and I'll go to the kitchen and put the water boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother's scissors and began to cut the hair on the chicken one by one. At first I thought they would be a bit, but then I looked and saw that a lot, even too. And I began to construct them, and tried to quickly cut, as in the hairdresser, and skipped with scissors through the air, when it moved from the hairs to the hairs.
Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:
- From the sides more remove, otherwise it will be under the box!
I said:
- Not very quickly cuts out ...
But here dad suddenly how to clap my forehead:
- Lord! Well, stupid we are with you, Deniska! And how I was forgotten! Start a haircut! It must be cut on fire! Do you understand? So do everything. We fell it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no haircuts, not shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with her in the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because one already stood a saucepan with water, and began to burn chicken on fire. She was great and smelled to the entire apartment with pale wool. Dad turned her with her side on his side and sentenced:
- Now! Oh and a good chicken! Now she will burn all of us and will become clean and white ...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became some kind of black, all some kind of charred, and the dad finally redeemed the gas.
He said:
- In my opinion, she somehow unexpectedly processed. Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
- Not. It was not blocked, it's just all in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash it out.
He was directly delighted.
- You're doing fine! - he said. - You are smart. It's good heredity. You are all in me. Well, a friend, take this chicken chicken and her thoroughly under the crane, otherwise I'm already tired of this from this.
And he sat down on the stool.
And I said:
- Now, I am Her MiG!
And I approached the sink and let the water put it, put on it our chicken and began to rub her with his right hand. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately blicked my hands to the most elbows. Dad swayed on a stool.
"That's," I said, "that you, Dad, made it." Not completely dismissed. There are a lot of soot.
"Void," said Pope, "Saya is only from above." Can not she consist of soot? Wait!
And Dad went to the bathroom and brought me a big piece of strawberry soap from there.
- on, - he said, - mine as it should! Name!
And I began to put this unfortunate chicken. She had some kind of distorted look. I was pretty great nicked her, but she was very poorly laundered, dirt flowed from her, it was probably decided from half an hour, but she didn't become cleaner.
I said:
- This damned rooster is only smeared from soap.
Then Dad said:
- Here is a brush! Take, Crying her good! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I terrain, in some places I even wiped the skin. But I was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly came his back and began to spin in my hands, slide and thoroughly knocked out every second. And dad did not go from his stool and all commanded:
- Tighter three! Lovely! Hold for the wings! Oh you! Yes, you, I see, do not know how to wash the chicken.
I then said:
- Dad, you try myself!
And I handed him a chicken. But he did not have time to take it, when she suddenly jumped out of my hands and rode under the furthest locker. But dad was not confused. He said:
- Feed the Mop!
And when I filed, Dad became the mop to screak out her from under the closet. He first from there a grazhaw old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly delighted, because I thought I was completely lost, and he was here, my dear.
Then dad pulled out, finally, chicken. She was all in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her behind the paw and the tops again under the crane. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rather purely rolled her and put it in a saucepan. At this time, Mom came. She said:
- What is your defeat?
And Dad sighed and said:
- Cook chicken.
Mom said:
- For a long time?
"Just now dipped," said Dad.
Mom removed the lid from the saucepans.
- Soli? She asked.
But Mom sniffed a saucepan.
- gave it? - she said.
"Then," said Dad, "when he cooks."
Mom sighed and took out a chicken from a saucepan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me apron, please. We will have to finish everything for you, the mountain chefs.
And I ran to the room, took the apron and captured my picture from the table. I gave my mother apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I paint? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?

Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. On the head of the chicken was a big red scallop. Mom hung her over the window and said:

- If dad will come before, let it cook. Pass?

I said:

- With pleasure!

And Mom went to the institute. And I took out watercolor paints and began to draw. I wanted to draw a squirrel as she jumps in the forest in the trees, and I first went out well, but then I looked and saw that I didn't get a squirrel at all, but some uncle, similar to Moidodyra. Belkin's tail turned out as his nose, and the branches on the tree like hair, ears and cap ... I was very surprised how it could do it, and when dad came, I said:

- Guess, dad, what did I paint?

He looked and thought:

- Are you dad? You look good!

Then dad looked as he said and said:

- Ah, I'm sorry, it is probably football ...

I said:

- You are some kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?

- No, I just want to eat. Do not know what for lunch?

I said:

- Won, outside the window chicken hangs. Swari and eat!

Dad pulled off the chicken from the window and put it on the table.

- Easy to say, Swari! You can cook. Cook is nonsense. The question is in what form to eat it? From chicken you can cook at least hundreds of wonderful nutritious dishes. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, but you can roll the ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - called "Kiev" - fingers losing. You can cook a chicken with noodles, and you can press it with an iron, throw garlic and it will work out, as in Georgia, "Tobacco chicken". You can finally ...

But I interrupted him. I said:

"You, dad, swari something simple, without irons." Something, you understand, the fastest!

Dad immediately agreed:

- True, son! What is important to us? Eating Pamrets! That you grabbed the very essence. What can be welded by the peasors? The answer is simple and clear: broth!

Dad even rubbed the hands.

I asked:

- Do you know how to broth?

But dad just laughed.

- What should I be able to? - He had even blocked her eyes. - Broth is easier than a paired turnip: put into the water and wait, when it is welded, that's all the wisdom. Solved! We cook broth, and very soon we will have a dinner of two dishes: on the first - broth with bread, on the second - boiled chicken, hot, smoking. Well, quit your repincial brush and let's help!

I said:

- What should I do?

- Looking! See some hairs on the chicken. You are their Sostrigi, because I do not like broth shaggy. You are comprehensive with these hairs, and I'll go to the kitchen and put the water boil!

And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother's scissors and began to cut the hair on the chicken one by one. At first I thought they would be a bit, but then I looked and saw that a lot, even too. And I began to construct them, and tried to quickly cut, as in the hairdresser, and skipped with scissors through the air, when it moved from the hairs to the hairs.

Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:

- From the sides more remove, otherwise it will be under the box!

I said:

- Not very quickly cuts out ...

But here dad suddenly how to clap my forehead:

And he grabbed the chicken and ran with her in the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because one already stood a saucepan with water, and began to burn chicken on fire. She was great and smelled to the entire apartment with pale wool. Dad turned her with her side on his side and sentenced:

- Now! Oh and a good chicken! Now she will burn all of us and will become clean and white ...

But the chicken, on the contrary, became some kind of black, all some kind of charred, and the dad finally redeemed the gas.

He said:

- In my opinion, she somehow unexpectedly processed. Do you like smoked chicken?

I said:

- Not. It was not blocked, it's just all in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash it out.

He was directly delighted.

- You're doing fine! - he said. - You are smart. It's good heredity. You are all in me. Well, a friend, take this chicken chicken and her thoroughly under the crane, otherwise I'm already tired of this from this.

And he sat down on the stool.

And I said:

- Now, I am Her MiG!

And I approached the sink and let the water put it, put on it our chicken and began to rub her with his right hand. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately blicked my hands to the most elbow. Dad swayed on a stool.

"That's," I said, "that you, Dad, made it." Not completely dismissed. There are a lot of soot.

"Void," said Pope, "Saya is only from above." Can not she consist of soot? Wait!

And Dad went to the bathroom and brought me a big piece of strawberry soap from there.

- on, - he said, - mine as it should! Name!

And I began to put this unfortunate chicken. She had some kind of distorted look. I was pretty great nicked her, but she was very poorly laundered, dirt flowed from her, it was probably decided from half an hour, but she didn't become cleaner.

I said:

- This damned rooster is only smeared from soap.

Then Dad said:

- Here is a brush! Take, Crying her good! First the back, and then everything else.

I began to rub. I terrain, in some places I even wiped the skin. But I was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly came his back and began to spin in my hands, slide and thoroughly knocked out every second. And dad did not go from his stool and all commanded:

- Tighter three! Lovely! Hold for the wings! Oh you! Yes, you, I see, do not know how to wash the chicken.

I then said:

- Dad, you try myself!

And I handed him a chicken. But he did not have time to take it, when she suddenly jumped out of my hands and rode under the furthest locker. But dad was not confused. He said:

- Feed the Mop!

And when I filed, Dad became the mop to screak out her from under the closet. He first from there a grazhaw old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly delighted, because I thought I was completely lost, and he was here, my dear.

Then dad pulled out, finally, chicken. She was all in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her behind the paw and the tops again under the crane. He said:

- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.

And he rather purely rolled her and put it in a saucepan. At this time, Mom came. She said:

- What is your defeat?

And Dad sighed and said:

- Cook chicken.

Mom said:

"Just now dipped," said Dad.

Mom removed the lid from the saucepans.

- Soli? She asked.

But Mom sniffed a saucepan.

- gave it? - she said.

"Then," said Dad, "when he cooks."

Mom sighed and took out a chicken from a saucepan. She said:

- Deniska, bring me apron, please. We will have to finish everything for you, the mountain chefs.

And I ran to the room, took the apron and captured my picture from the table. I gave my mother apron and asked her:

- Well, what did I paint? Guess, mom!

Mom looked and said:

- Sewing machine? Yes?

Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen

Chicken broth for the soul

JACK CANFIELD AND MARK VICTOR HANSEN. A 2nd Helping Of Chicken Soup for The Soul

Introduction

Stories that people tell each other have the property to treat spiritual wounds. Learn to listen to them, memorize and transmit to those who need them. Sometimes a good story more needs a person than food.

Barry Lopez

We also decided to devote this book Patty Obry, who spent hundreds of hours, typing and reprinting this manuscript, Kim Willi, who read more than 1000 stories and poems in the process of creating this book, Nancy Mitchell, who a week for a week wanted authors and publishers to get Required permits, and Angie Gouver, which helped at all stages of creating this book. Without them, this book would not be!

Jack Canfield Mark Victor Hansen

Dear reader!

I `m here for you. When you are lonely or you feel torn off from everyone, I invite you to divide my society. If you are full of doubt and do not remember when you feel confident in yourself, please contact my light. When it seems to you that your life rules confusion and chaos, turn to my wisdom. How your grandmother gave patients with chicken broth to restore forces and health, so I am here in order to revive your soul. My stories about the family and love will bring you from the caves of your loneliness. My stories about courage and perseverance will strengthen your determination.

In my recipes contain a large dose of inspiration, proposed by those who were elevated inaccessible mountains and who conquered them and stood on top among the clouds and stars. The whole of your body charges with energy and will gain ease when you absorb huge portions of humor when you try to divide your talents with the world, which needs them. Stories about champions, heroes and heroes that were before you will give you new forces on your life path and will help you to implement your dreams. The great thoughts expressed by the wise people will break the shackles of fear entangling you.

And most importantly, I offer you Vitamin Providence - Providence of your future, filled with accomplishments, happiness, health, prosperity, friendship and love. I am a cure for the soul.

John Wayne Shlatter

Introduction

The universe consists of stories, not from atoms.

Muriel Rackers

From the bottom of my heart we are pleased to present you with a new book, in which the stories telling you for the soul are collected. These stories, as we hope, will inspire you on disinterested love, to life, filled with passions, will make their dreams with great confidence in reality, support and comfort you per minute of confusion and failure, pain and losses. The book for life will be your friend, which at the right time will provide support and tell you a wise thought.

I just have ten years old, and I liked this book. Just amazing that I liked her. I actually read a little, but now I read and can not stop.

You can own indiscrect wealth, caskets with jewels and gold chests. But you will never be richer than me: I know a man who tells me stories.

Cynthia Pearl Mouse.

The story must be told so that herself is helpful. My grandfather was chrome. Once he was asked to tell the story of his teacher. And he told, as his teacher, it happened, jumped and danced during prayer. And during the story, my grandfather rose and began to bounce and dance, showing how this mentor did. From this time, he cured from chromotype. That's how to tell stories!

Reading, telling and listening to each other's stories, you transform. Stories are a powerful tool to free up our hidden energy to heal, communicate, express their feelings and grow. Hundreds of readers told us about how our first book helped them to give will feelings, contributed to mutual understanding in families and friendly companies. Adults and children began to remember and tell important cases from their lives, it happened behind the family table, and in the classroom, in support groups, between buddies and even at work.

The most important thing we can do to help each other is to listen and understand it.

Rebecca Falls

One teacher from Pennsylvania invited the fifth graders to draw up their book from the touching stories that occurred with them. When the book was written and drawn up, it was spread and distributed to families, and she had a deep impact on both students and their parents.

The manager of one company wrote to us that every year had every meeting of personnel history from our first book.

Priests, rabbis, psychologists, advisers, teachers and leaders of support teams began and ended their services and classes with stories from this book. And you feel free to do the same. People hungry for food for the soul.

And even remember: someone needs to hear your story, it can support another person in a difficult moment and even save him life.

Sometimes our fire goes out, but another person reveals him again. Each of us in the deepest debt before those who have not gave this fire to extinct.

Albert Schweizer

For many years, we met with many people who rejected our fire again, and we are grateful to them. We hope that to some extent we will help support your fire and inflate it into a big flame. If this happens, it means that our work was crowned with success.

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

1. About love

Life is a song - Sing her.

Life is a game - play it.

Life is a challenge - answer him.

Life is a dream - I realize it.

Life is a victim - bring it.

Life is love - Enjoy it.

The best thing is in the life of a person -

this is his minor, unnamed, dictated

kindness and love actions,

about which he does not remember.

William Wordsworth.

Once, when I was a teenager, my father was in line for tickets to the circus. Finally, only one family remained between us and the box office. She made a big impression on me. There were eight children not older than 12 years. It was seen that the family is not born, but their clothes were at least inexpensive, but clean. The children behaved well, standing by couple behind the parents and holding hands. The kids were excitedly talking, anticipating the joy to see clowns, ...