Helen Keller’s love story

<> is very well written, I hope everyone will read it more

This is a true story.

There is a woman named Huang Meilian who has suffered from cerebral palsy since she was a child. The symptoms of this disease are very alarming. Because the limbs lose their sense of balance, the hands and feet will often move randomly, and the mouth will often mutter vague words, which looks very strange. Based on her condition, the doctor determined that she would not live to be 6 years old. In the eyes of ordinary people, she has lost her ability to express herself in language and normal living conditions, let alone her future and happiness. But she survived strongly, and with her strong will and perseverance, she was admitted to the famous University of California in the United States and received a doctorate in art. She relies on the paintbrush in her hand and her good hearing to express her emotions. At a lecture, a student rashly asked: "Dr. Huang, you have looked like this since you were a child. What do you think of yourself? Have you ever had any resentment?" Everyone present secretly blamed the student for being disrespectful. , but Huang Meilian was not unhappy at all. She wrote these lines on the blackboard very calmly:

1. I am so cute;

2. My legs are very cute. She is very beautiful;

3. My parents love me so much;

4. I can draw and write;

5. I have a Cute cat;...

Finally, she concluded with one sentence: I only look at what I have, not what I don’t have!

After reading the above story, we will all be deeply moved by Huang Meili's spirit of not surrendering to fate and loving life. Yes, if you want to make your life valuable, you must withstand the test of suffering; if you want to live happily, you must accept and affirm yourself. In fact, in this world, everyone has different flaws or unsatisfactory things. You are not the only one who is unfortunate. The key is how to view and deal with misfortune. There is no need to complain about the unfavorable fate. Don't just look at what we don't have, but look more at what we have. We will feel that we are actually very rich. In the journey of life, we have all read many short stories that moved us and made us think deeply. The philosophy and wisdom contained in these short stories once enlightened our lives and comforted or shocked our hearts. , once moved us. In everyone's life, they need to understand some truths in order to make themselves wiser; they all need to accept some touches in order to make their lives full of passion.

2. I once read a collection of Chekov's short stories, and the first story was called "The Bet." It is written that a legal scholar and an entrepreneur had an argument at a salon gathering when talking about a prisoner who had recently been sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Entrepreneurs believe that spending fifteen years in prison is worse than being sentenced to death; legal experts believe that living is better than dying, and living is hope. The two argued endlessly and finally made a bet. The bet was that the jurist asked the entrepreneur to lock him up. If the jurist did not breach the contract fifteen years later, all the entrepreneur's property would belong to the jurist. The next morning, the lawyer was locked up by the entrepreneur in a small room in his back garden. This small room only had a small window for delivering food. The legal scholar squatted in this isolated hut and began to live a prison life. The entrepreneur provided him with the books he wanted to read every day. Time passes day by day, and the legal scholar has finished reading the encyclopedia of politics, economics, philosophy, science, theology, and literature. Fifteen years have finally arrived. At this time, the entrepreneur failed in the business field. He knew that he would become a pauper when the time came, so he decided to kill the legal scholar on the night before the expiration date. The banker finally opened the rusty iron lock that had never been opened in fifteen years, and found that the legal scholar was sleeping soundly at his desk in front of a candle. When the banker was about to take the opportunity to kill this haggard legal scholar, he was surprised. I found a letter for him lying on the table. The letter said that he was grateful to the entrepreneur. Over the past fifteen years, he had read many books. This knowledge would be an inexhaustible wealth for his life. He also understood many truths. He has decided that he no longer wants the entrepreneur's property. He will break out of the window before dawn tomorrow and voluntarily break the contract. After reading the letter, the banker decided to give up the idea of ??killing the legal scholar. Before dawn the next day, the jurist broke the contract and broke out of the window, saving both the banker's property and his own life.

This novel seems to contain many truths. Love of life and living is hope should be its theme. The most precious thing in the world is life. Loving life does not mean being greedy for life and fearing death. "Who has never died in life since ancient times?" I remember a poem by Qiu Jin: "Spend a lot of money to buy a precious sword, and mink fur can be exchanged for wine. A heart full of passion and respect, even if it is spilled, it can turn into blue." Tao. "All people who have achieved great achievements in ancient and modern times, both at home and abroad, understand the value of life and use the value of life. All normal people cherish life and love life. "Everyone is destined to die, and it may be as light as a feather or heavier than Mount Tai." Of course, in life, it is impossible for everyone's death to be heavier than Mount Tai, but it cannot be as light as a feather. People cannot commit suicide. I often think of Alexandre Dumas's words that all human happiness lies in hope and waiting. Living is happiness, hoping is happiness, waiting is happiness. Everything in the entire human society operates for the sake of human life and the pursuit of happiness. Survival and happiness are the themes and purposes of human beings: without life and happiness, everything about human beings will lose its meaning.

Astronauts who have flown in space and scientists who have conducted scientific research in Antarctica, when they are far away from human beings, away from home, away from relatives, they face the vast and ruthless nature and space that challenges life. When they returned from the limit, they understood everything. They felt that human beings are very small and fragile when facing nature. At the same time, I feel that life is very precious and great, and how difficult and difficult it is for human beings to survive when facing the limits of life. People who challenge the limits of life and return believe that human life is the most beautiful and happiest. They even think that human beings should not fight against each other. Only when you have lost can you know the value of possession. However, life cannot play such a game, because you only live once. Those who have challenged the limits of life have come over the edge of life and death, and know how to cherish life and living more. From this, I think of Jack London's novel called "Love of Life": a touching story of two gold diggers who went through hardships and hardships and struggled from the brink of death; it makes you feel how powerful human vitality is, how powerful human beings are. How strong is the desire for survival, only when people are on the edge of death will they deeply feel the preciousness of life. So what reasons do people who live in peace and prosperity have to commit suicide? What other reasons do they have to leave this world for no reason? Life will encounter many hardships and hardships in its development process, which just proves the value of life. Life is the foundation of all superstructures and the material world. Because of human life, there are thoughts, hopes and pursuits, and this colorful and beautiful world like a kaleidoscope.

Life faces time and space, as the ancients said, "If you look at what has changed, then the world and the world cannot last a moment; if you look at what does not change, then things and I are endless." "Life is both short and eternal. Life in the human world is real, with family interests, friendships, lovers, ideals, beauty, pursuits, and dreams. Only in the human world can we create a truly beautiful paradise. Cherish life and sing a hymn to life.

3. The story of loving life

Since I was a child, I have known that human life is not very long.

When I was still a baby, I was frail and sickly, and doctors told my parents to be prepared to die young. But I survived, even though it was difficult.

Due to a bad heart condition, I couldn’t run and jump with other children. The sky was always cloudy in my childhood, and I would often hide in a corner and cry secretly. Weakness and loneliness turned into lingering worries that came back and forth in my young mind, which made me understand life and death prematurely at that age, and how stingy and cruel life was to me.

Later, I grew up. When the flowers fell, my pale face became a little flushed under the bright autumn sun. I was admitted to college and fulfilled a dream I never dared to dream of as a child.

Then I fell in love. He was a very kind boy, generous, open-minded and persistent. I am very happy to enjoy the joy of being a girl, and also enjoy the endless satisfaction of having a boy. In his warm arms, the blush on my face never faded. For a long time, I almost forgot that I had a miserable childhood and a frail body.

It wasn’t until the spring of my last year of college that my boyfriend and I went for an outing in the wild. We sat back to back on the grass, looking at the blue sky and white clouds, the pine forest and the shepherd boy in the distance. We sang excitedly: "------I hope you can love me till the end of the world, I hope you can accompany me to the ends of the earth to the end of the world-------" When we sang to the emotional point, my boyfriend He held me in his arms excitedly and whispered in my ear: "We will stay together for the rest of our lives and never leave you ------ okay?"

That moment of life is so... It's gorgeous and warm, but also so delicate and gentle. Between the blue sky and the green grass, I know my heart is blooming like a flower, showing my beauty like never before.

But on that spring night, I stood by the window, listening to the distant chirping of insects outside the window, looking at the full moon in the distance, recalling with infinite nostalgia the blue sky and white clouds, the grassland, the sheep Group------Then, I cried.

I know how devotedly I loved that boy, and I also know how lovingly he cherished me. Our love is pure and transparent, like a flower that has just bloomed. But maybe all beautiful things are defective: he is full of energy and strong in body, but how can I, with my tender heart, weak bones and single body, accompany him through all the ups and downs in his life? There is so much intolerance and worry in the depths of love. Instead of being unable to stay with him for the rest of his life and leaving him with bitterness for half his life, it would be better for me to walk away from his life early and give him a chance to have complete love and possession again. A perfect life without any flaws.

It is destined that I should not belong to him, nor to any other boy. I should have realized that.

So, after that spring night, I slowly alienated him and ignored him. After graduating from college, I went to a distant city despite his obstruction. In the letter to him, I wrote calmly: "I no longer love you -------" He didn't know how unbearable it was to deliberately run away from love, and how deep the sadness of not being able to love was. What a deep pain!

Later, I faced people and things independently in that city, and endured the joys and sorrows of the world alone, which was very painful.

Every time I pass through unfamiliar faces in the crowd, I feel completely lonely, and I remember unforgettably the boy who hated me for being ruthless. How does he know that I left him in order to love him better; how does he know that he once had such a kind and beautiful girl that he would rather hurt himself than hurt him. I just regret that God doesn’t give us this fate.

After giving up love, I only lived for my mother. Life was given by my mother, and I have no right to take it back. I can only maintain a little hope for my elderly mother. In fact, my mother should not have created this weak life of mine. After experiencing the vicissitudes of life, she must leave with many regrets. Life is sometimes not so fair to everyone.

For more than half a year, I dragged my sick body through many ups and downs and struggled many times. Finally, I fell ill during the season when lilacs were blooming. I heard my mother say that the time when I fell off the grass was when the lilacs were dying. Maybe everything was destined. The lilacs would wither soon. I thought I would follow Luohong.

As a result, the calm heart becomes calmer. Before I left, I wanted to fulfill two wishes: tell the boy that I have always loved him and hope that he would not let me down and live a good life; and tell my mother not to be sad for me, just pretend that I had not lived this life more than 20 years ago! I calmly sent two telegrams and admitted to the hospital alone. I didn't rush to get a diagnosis. I waited.

The mother came with the boy. Maybe it was my mother who hinted at the reason why I left him. He glared at me fiercely as soon as he entered the ward, and then held my hand with tears in his eyes, which made my heart tremble and hurt.

My mother just said nothing. She had been mentally prepared for more than 20 years, and all the tears in her heart had been shed.

Later, the doctor came in and immediately asked my mother why he left me alone in this city, and why he didn’t give his girlfriend some care and encouragement, so that I didn’t cherish myself so much. Melancholy sinks.

"Don't blame them, I know my life is short." I excused my mother and defended him. < /p>

"Miracle----" my mother repeated, looking at me almost in disbelief, and then at the old doctor, her gloomy eyes suddenly brightened.

"Yes. Maybe ------" the old doctor patted me on the shoulder: "Thanks to your boyfriend, you must be very in love and very happy. There are indeed many things in this world. It is destined in life that we cannot change; but there are many things that you must fight for yourself. As long as you are willing to cooperate with treatment, you will soon be able to live a complete life like a normal person! ”

The old doctor walked out. My boyfriend and my mother were all shocked. At that time, the afternoon sun was shining warmly on my face and my mother and boyfriend’s bodies.

After a long time, my boyfriend was the first to react. He ran out quickly, and I heard his boy’s rare and loud cry outside the ward, so joyful, hearty, and vivid.

The mother at the bedside hugged me into her arms, her face full of smiles and tears. In an instant, the wrinkles on my mother's face seemed to be reduced a lot.

Later, the old doctor cured my illness.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I pulled him and bowed deeply to him. I was grateful to him. Not only did he recover my body, but more importantly, he shocked me mentally and deeply in my soul, making me understand how precious life is and that I have to fight and fight for anything.

Yes, there are indeed many things in this world that are destined and we cannot change them; but there are also many things that we have to fight for. If life can be fought for, then what is there that cannot be fought for in this world?

4. Love Life Author: Jack London

The two of them limped and struggled down the river bank. Once, the one walking in front was still on the rocks. He stumbled and staggered in the middle. They were tired and fatigued, and their faces had expressions of scowl and gritted teeth from the long suffering they had endured. On their shoulders were heavy bundles wrapped in blankets. Finally, the belt around his forehead was still strong and helped to hold the burden. Each of them carried a rifle. They walk hunched over, with their shoulders forward and their heads even further forward, their eyes always looking at the ground.

"We wish we had two or three of those bullets we hid in the cellar with us," said the man walking behind.

His tone was gloomy, dry, and completely devoid of emotion. He said these words coldly; the one in front limped toward the white stream that flowed through the rocks and stirred up a foam, without answering a word.

The one at the back followed him closely. Neither of them had taken off their shoes and socks, even though the water in the river was freezing cold - so cold that their ankles ached and their feet were numb. Whenever they came to the place where the river water hit their knees, the two of them were unsteady and unsteady. The one who was following slipped on a smooth round stone and almost didn't fall, but he gave a fierce push. He struggled, stood firm, and screamed in pain.

He seemed a little dizzy, and while shaking, he stretched out his free hand, as if intending to hold something in the air. After standing firm, he walked forward again, but unexpectedly staggered again and almost fell. So, he stood still and looked at the person in front of him who never looked back.

He stood motionless for a full minute, as if he was trying to convince himself. Then, he shouted: "Hey, Bill, I sprained my ankle."

Bill swayed in the white river. He didn't look back.

The man behind watched him walking like this; although his face was still expressionless, his eyes showed the same look as a wounded deer.

The man in front limped onto the opposite river bank, without looking back, and just walked forward, while the people in the river watched helplessly. His lips were trembling a little, so the tangled brown beard on his mouth was visibly trembling. He even unconsciously stuck out his tongue to lick his lips.

"Bill!" he shouted loudly.

This was the cry of a strong man asking for help in times of trouble, but Bill did not look back. His companions stared at him, only to see him limping strangely, stumbling forward, staggering up a not-steep slope, walking towards the not-so-bright sky on the top of a short hill. go. He kept watching him cross the hilltop and disappear. So he turned his eyes and slowly scanned the circle of the world left to him after Bill left. The sun near the horizon is like a fireball that is about to go out, almost obscured by the chaotic fog and steam, making you feel like it is a dense mass with vague outlines and elusive things. The man rested on one leg and took out his watch. It was now four o'clock, and in this season of late July or early August - he could not tell the exact date within a week or two - He knew that the sun was approximately in the northwest. He looked to the south and knew that behind those desolate hills was the Great Bear Lake; at the same time, he also knew that in that direction, the restricted boundary of the Arctic Circle penetrated deep into the Canadian tundra. Where he stood was a tributary of the Coppermine River, which itself flowed northward, leading to Coronation Bay and the Arctic Ocean. He had never been there, but he had seen it once on a Hudson's Bay Company map.

He scanned the world around him again. This is a sad sight to see. There's a blurry skyline everywhere. The hills are all so low. There were no trees, no bushes, no grass—nothing but a vast and terrible wilderness, which quickly brought a look of terror into his eyes.

"Bill!" He shouted quietly, again and again: "Bill!"

He cowered in the white water, as if this vast world It is squeezing him with overwhelming force, and is cruelly displaying its proud majesty to destroy him. He trembled like a man with malaria, and even the gun in his hand fell into the water with a clatter. This sound finally woke him up. Fighting against his fear, he tried to muster up his energy, groped in the water, and found the gun. He moved the bundle toward his left shoulder to relieve the strain on his sprained ankle. Then, slowly, cautiously, wincing in pain, he walked towards the river bank.

He never stopped. He struggled like crazy, ignoring the pain, and hurried up the slope to the top of the mountain where his companion had disappeared - he looked even more weird and ridiculous than his limping companion. . But when we reached the top of the mountain, we saw only a dead, shallow valley with no grass growing on it. He struggled with fear again, overcame it, moved the baggage again to his left shoulder, and staggered down the hill.

The bottom of the valley is humid, with thick moss clinging to the water like a sponge. As he took a step, water splashed out from under his feet. Every time he lifted his feet, there was a squeaking sound, because the wet moss always sucked his feet and refused to let go. He took the good road from moor to moor, and followed Bill's footsteps past piles of rocks that jutted out like islands in the sea of ??moss.

Although he was alone, he was not lost. He knew that if he went further, he would come to a small lake where there were many very small and thin dead fir trees. The local people called it "Tichen Nichili" - which means "little small lake". stick ground”. Moreover, there is a small stream leading to the lake, and the water is not white.

There were rushes on the stream--he remembered that well--but no trees, and he could follow the stream to the watershed where it ended. He would cross the divide to the source of another stream, this one flowing to the west, and he could follow it to where it emptied into the River Dees, where, in a capsized canoe, You can find a small pit below with many stones piled on top. In this pit were the bullets he needed for his empty gun, as well as fishing hooks, fishing lines, and a small fishing net—all the tools needed for hunting, fishing, and finding food. He would also find flour - not much - and a piece of pickled pork and some beans.

Bill would be waiting for him there, and they would paddle south down the Dees River to Big Bear Lake. Then they would paddle south in the lake, all the way to the Mackenzie River.

Once there, they have to head south and continue walking south, so winter will never catch up with them. Let the rapids freeze and the weather become harsher, and they would head south to a warm Hudson's Bay Company station where the trees grew tall and lush and there was plenty to eat.

This is what this person was thinking as he struggled forward. He not only struggled with his physical strength, but also struggled with his brain. He tried his best to think that Bill had not abandoned him, and that Bill would definitely be waiting for him where he hid his things.

He had to think this way, otherwise, he wouldn't have to work so hard, he would have laid down and died long ago. As the blurry orb-like sun slowly sank toward the northwest, he repeatedly calculated every inch of their escape south before winter caught up with him and Bill. He thought repeatedly about the food in the cellar and at the head of the Hudson's Bay Company station. He had gone two days without eating; and as for the days when he had not had what he wanted to eat, it had been more than two days. He often bent down and picked up the gray-white berries on the moor, put them into his mouth, chewed them a few times, and then swallowed them. This bog berry has only a small seed, covered in a little pulpy water. As soon as you import it, the water melts and the seeds are spicy and bitter. He knew that the berries had no nutrients, but he still chewed them patiently with a hope that ignored reason and experience.

At nine o'clock, he stumbled on a rock. Due to extreme fatigue and weakness, he staggered and fell. For a moment he lay motionless on his side. Then, he freed himself from the straps of the bundle and struggled awkwardly to sit up. At this time, it was not completely dark yet, so he took advantage of the lingering twilight to grope among the rocks, trying to find some dry moss. Later, he collected a bunch of them, lit a fire - a sluggish fire that was smoking black - and put a tin pot of water on it to boil.

The first thing he did when he unpacked his bag was to count his matches. One *** sixty-six. To figure it out, he counted it three times. He divided them into several parts, wrapped them in oil paper, put one part in his empty tobacco pouch, one part in the ring of his old hat, and the last part inside his shirt. After finishing, he suddenly felt a panic, so he took them out completely, opened them, and counted them again.

Still sixty-six.

He was drying his wet shoes and socks by the fire. The moccasins were in soggy smithereens. The felt socks were worn through in many places, and the skin on both feet was torn and bleeding. One ankle was so swollen that the veins were throbbing. He checked it. It had swollen to the size of my knee. He had two blankets at home, and he tore a long strip off one of them and tied it tightly around his ankles. In addition, he tore off several strips and wrapped them around his feet in place of moccasins and socks. Then he drank the pitcher of scalding water, wound up his watch, and crawled between the two blankets.

He slept like a dead man. The brief darkness around midnight comes and goes.

The sun rose from the northeast - at least there was dawn in that direction, because the sun was obscured by dark clouds.

At six o'clock, he woke up and lay quietly on his back. He looked up at the gray sky and knew he was hungry. When he turned over on his elbows, a loud grunt startled him, and he saw a buck, which was looking at him with alert and curious eyes. The animal was no more than fifty feet away, and his mind immediately pictured the sight and taste of venison steaks sizzling over the fire. He unconsciously grabbed the empty gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The buck snorted, jumped away, and could only hear the clatter of its hooves as it ran over the rocks.

The man cursed and threw away the empty gun. He grunted loudly as he dragged himself to his feet. This is a very slow and laborious thing. His joints were like rusty hinges. Their movements in the sockets are very slow and the resistance is great. You have to grit your teeth to bend or extend them. Finally, his legs finally stood still, but it took another minute or so to straighten his waist so that he could stand upright like a man.

He slowly climbed onto a hill and looked at the surrounding terrain. There were neither trees nor groves, nothing at all. I could only see endless gray moss, occasional gray rocks, a few small gray lakes, and a few gray creeks, which were a little bit of change. The sky is gray. There is no sun and no shadow from the sun. He didn't know where north was, and he had forgotten how he got there last night. But he was not lost.

He knows this. Soon he would reach the "little stick patch." He felt that it was somewhere to the left, not far away—perhaps just over the next hill.

So he returned to where he was, packed his bags, and was ready to leave. He felt clearly that the three separate packages of matches were still there, although he did not stop to count them. Still, he hesitated, and kept thinking, this time for a thick buckskin bag. The bag is not big. He could cover it completely with two hands. He knew it weighed fifteen pounds—as much as the rest of the bag combined—and the bag worried him. Finally, he put it aside and began to roll up the bundle.

However, after rolling it for a while, he stopped and stared at the deerskin pocket. He hurriedly grabbed it in his hand and looked around with a defiant look, as if the wilderness was trying to snatch it away; when he stood up and staggered to start the day's journey, the bag was Still wrapped in the baggage on his back.

He turned to the left and walked, stopping now and then to eat berries on the moor. The sprained ankle was already stiff, and he was limping more obviously than before, but the pain in his feet was nothing compared to the pain in his stomach. The pain of hunger is severe. They happened one after another, as if they were gnawing at his stomach, and the pain was so painful that he could not concentrate on the route he had to take to get to "Little Stick Land". The berries on the moor did not relieve the severe pain, but the pungent taste made his tongue and mouth burn.

He came to a valley where many grouse were flapping their wings from the rocks and moorland. They make a "cluck-cluck-cluck" sound. He hit them with stones, but missed. He put the bundle on the ground and sneaked over like a cat catching a sparrow. The sharp rocks penetrated his trousers and cut his legs until the blood from his knees left a trail of blood on the ground; but this pain was nothing in the pangs of hunger. He crawled on the wet moss, making his clothes soaked and his body getting cold; but he didn't feel any of this because his desire to eat was so strong. But the group of grouse always flew up and whirred in front of him, and eventually their cries of "cluck-cluck-cluck" became a mockery of him, so he Cursing them, shouting at them along with their cries.

At one point he crawled up to a grouse that must have been asleep. He didn't see it until it sprang up from the corner of the rock in his face. He panicked like a grouse taking off, grabbed a handful, and managed to get only three tail feathers. As he watched it fly away, he hated it very much, as if it had done something wrong to him. Then he returned to where he was and picked up the baggage.

Time gradually passed, and he walked into the continuous valley, or swamp, where there were more wild animals. A herd of reindeer passed by, about twenty of them, all within elusive rifle range. He had a frantic desire to chase them, and he believed that he would be able to catch them. A black fox came towards him with a grouse in his mouth. The man shouted. It was a terrible cry, and the fox frightened away, but did not leave the grouse behind.

In the evening, he walked along a small river. The river water, which turned milky white because it contained lime, flowed through the sparse rushes. He grasped the rushes by their roots and pulled up something that looked like a young onion sprout and was only as big as a nail in a shingle. This thing is very tender, and when his teeth bite into it, it will make a squeaking sound, as if it tastes good. But its fiber is not easy to chew.

It is made up of tiny bits of water-filled fiber: like berries, it has no nutrients at all. He threw away his bundle, crawled into the rushes, and began to gnaw like an ox. He was very tired and always wished he could take a break - lie down and take a nap; but he had to keep struggling - but this was not necessarily because he was eager to get to the "little stick place", it was probably because he was hungry. Forcing him. He looked for frogs in small puddles, or dug in the soil with his fingernails to look for bugs, even though he knew there were neither frogs nor bugs so far north.

He looked in every puddle, to no avail. Finally, when the long dusk fell, he discovered a unique little minnow-like fish in a puddle. fish. He thrust his arm down to his shoulders, but it slipped away again. So he grabbed it with both hands and muddied the milky white mud at the bottom of the pond. At the critical moment, he fell into the pit and half his body was soaked. Now, the water was too muddy to see where the fish were, so he had to wait for the mud to settle.

He caught it again until the water became muddy again. But he couldn't wait any longer, so he took off the tin can and scooped out the water in the pit. At first, he scooped like crazy, splashing water on himself. At the same time, because the water he poured out was too close, The water flows into the pit again. Later, he scooped more carefully, trying to calm himself down, although his heart was beating fast and his hands were shaking. After half an hour of this, the water in the pit was almost scooped out. There was not even a cup left.

However, there were no fish; only then did he discover that there was a hidden crack in the stone, from which the fish had crawled into a large connected pit next to it - he scooped the water out of the pit all day and night. Don't do it. If he had known about this hidden gap, he would have blocked it in the first place, and the fish would be his. As he thought this, his limbs fell limply to the wet ground.

At first, he just cried softly, then?/