What outfit is the man's shirt?

In the winter can not be less shirt, but also a lot of long cotton jacket, wearing a shirt, with a small black plaid shirt, dressed in black cotton jacket, paired with jeans and high help shoes, very handsome attractive wear.

White shirt with a red sweater, the wedding outfits for mother of the bride outer blue hooded short jacket jacket, the black jeans and sneakers show warm male temperament, classic good-looking and warm trend collocation.

The simple white shirt is a fashion men's four seasons of essential goods, in the winter may be paired with a small V-collar black sweater and put on the handsome black long hair coat, really no matter where you can make a full of the trend to wear.

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Enjoy Solitude

I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the field or the woods all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, because he is employed； but when he comes home at night he cannot sit down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where he can see the folks, and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate himself for his day’s solitude； and hence he wonders how the student can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui and the blues； but he does not realize that the student, though in the house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society that the latter does, though it may be a more condensed form of it.

A Letter to Beloved Son

Life Can Be Cruel

There will be people in your life who won’t be very nice. They’ll tease you because you’re different, or for no good reason. They might try to bully you or hurt you.

There’s not much you can do about these people except to learn to deal with them, and learn to choose friends who are kind to you, who actually care about you, who make you feel good about yourself. When you find friends like this, hold on to them, treasure them, spend time with them, be kind to them, love them.

There will be times when you are met with disappointment instead of success. Life won’t always turn out the way you want. This is just another thing you’ll have to learn to deal with. But instead of letting these things get you down, push on. Accept disappointment and learn to persevere, to pursue your dreams despite pitfalls. Learn to turn negatives into positives, and you’ll do much better in life.

But Be Open to life Anyway

Yes, you’ll find cruelty and suffering in your journey through life... but don’t let that close you to new things.Don’t retreat from life, don’t hide or wall yourself off. Be open to new things, new experiences, new people.

You might get your heart broken 10 times, but find the most wonderful woman the 11th time. If you shut yourself off from love, you’ll miss out on that woman, and the happiest times of your life.

You will fail many times but if you allow that to stop you from trying, you will miss out on the amazing feeling of success once you reach new heights with your accomplishments Failure is a stepping stone to success.

Grandpa's Bee

A long time before I was born, my Grandma and Grandpa moved into the house on Beechwood Avenue. They had a young family of 4 little girls. The little girls slept in the attic in a big feather bed. It was cold there on winter night. Grandma put hot bricks under the covers at the foot of the bed to keep the little girls warm.

During the Great Depression, work was hard to find, so Grandpa did whatever jobs he could. He dug ditches during the week and on weekend he and Grandma dug a garden to grow some of their own food.

The house on Beechwood Avenue had a big front yard with shade trees and fruit trees. In the middle of the yard was a water punip where the four little girls pumped water for cooking, cleaning and watering the garden. On one side of the yard, Grandma and Grandpa planted tomatoes, beans, squash, cucunibers, peppers and strawberries to feed their growing family. They planted roses, lilacs and irises on the other side of the yard, around the statue of the Blessed Mother.

Everybody worked to keep the garden growing. All summer long, the family ate food from the garden and enjoyed the beautiful flowers. Grandma put up strawberry jam, tomatoes, beans, peppers, pears and peaches in canning jam. They were good to eat through the long winter.

The family grew up, and before too many years had passed, the grandchildren came to visit. Grandma and Grandpa still planted their garden every spring. Everyone still enjoyed the good food from the garden and always took some home.

Grandchilden grow up, and grandparents grow older. It became harder for Grandma and Grandpa to keep up the garden. So they made it a little smaller. There was still plenty to eat from the garden and lovely flowers to enjoy.

Then one summer when Grandpa was eighty-nine years old, all he could do was watch from his lawn chair as the vegetables grew and the roses bloomed. Summer slowly faded, and Grandpa died before it was time to bring in the harvest.

It was a lonely winter for Grandma. She sat near the window, looking out at the yard and wondering if she could plant the garden in the spring. It would be hard to care for it by herself. When spring came, she planted only a little garden.

One sunny day in the early summer, Grandma heard a commotion in the front yard and looked out the window to see a frightening sight a gigantic swann of bees filled the air between two tall trees. There was thousands of bees in the air, so many that the swarm reached the tree-tops! The buzzing sound was tremendous. Grandma watched as the bees made their way into a hole up in one of the trees.Before long, every one of those bees had disappeared into its new home.

Grandma wondered what in the world she could do. Should she hire someone to get rid of bees? That would cost more than she could afford. She decided to wait and think it over.

During the next few days, the bees were busy making, their own business. Grandma could always see a few bees buzzing in and out around the opening high in the tree. Before long, she decided the bees won’t bother anyone, so she went about her business and didn’t give them any other thought.

That summer, Grandma’s little garden grew and grew. The neighbors would stop to admire the huge crop of vegetables and puzzle over their own gardens weren’t doing well. No matter, because Grandma had enough give some away. Of course, everyone who came to visit was treated to a meal of good things from the garden.

One day, Grandma’s brother Frank visited from Arizona. As Grandma made Frank a delicious lunch of squash pan cakes and home made apple sauce, she told him the story about the swarm of bees.

Frank said, “in Arizona, the farmers often hired beekeepers to set up beehives near their fields. The bees pollinated the crops and helped them to grow.”

That was when Grandma realized that her bees had helped with her garden all summer.

“So that’s why my little garden had such a big crop! ” she exclaimed.

From that time on, Grandma always believed that since Grandpa couldn’t be there to help her that summer, he had sent the bees to take his place and make Grandma’s little garden grow and grow...

The Gettysburg Address

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new conceive in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated,  can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have eome to dedicate a portion of the field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate- we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advance.

 It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

If I Rest, I Rust

The significant inscription found on an old key- “If I rest, I rust.”-would be an excellent motto for those who are afflicted with slightest bit of idleness. Even the most industrious person might adopt it with advantage to serve as a reminder that, if one allows his faculties to rest, like the iron in the unused key, they will soon show signs of rust and, ultimately, cannot do the work required of them.

Those who would attain the heights reached and kept by great men must keep their faculties polished by constant use, so that they may unlock the doors of knowledge, the gates that guard entrances to the professions, to science, art, literature, agriculture-every department of human endeavor.

Industry keeps bright the key that opens the treasury of achievement. If Hugh Miller, after toiling all day in quarry,had devoted his evenings to rest and recreation, he would never have become a famous geologist.The celebrated mathematician, Edmund Stone would never have published a mathematical dictionary, never have found the key to science of mathematics, if he had given his geologist moments to idleness. Had the little Scotch lad, Ferguson, had allowed the busy brain to go to sleep while he tended sheep on the hillside, instead of calculating the position of the stars by a string of beads, he would never become a famous aastronomer.

Labor vanquish all-not inconstant,spasmodic or ill-directed labor; but faithful,unremitting，daily effort toward a well-directed purpose. Just as truly as eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, so is eternal industry the price of noble and enduring success.

The Warmth in Winter

Winter gives us the opportunity to stay inside and look outside, as we’re not called outdoors to enjoy the warmth and sunshine. SnuggN1 up in the sofa, put a blanket over you, have a cup of hot cocoa, and enjoy the observations on this precious season...

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: It is the time for home.

During the winter I am content,or try to think I am. There is a wonderful joy in leaving behind the noisy city streets and starting out along the white road that leads across the hills. With each breath of the sharp, reviving air one seems to
inhale new life. A peace as evident as the sunshine on the fields takes possession of one’s inner being. The trivial cares are driven away by the first sweep of wind that comes straight from the mountains. The intense silence that broods over the snow-bound land is a conscious blessing
from the nature.

Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter: Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.

Find the Beauty Around You

A very special teacher in a high school had a husband who died suddenly of a heart attack. About a week after his death, she shared some of her thoughts with a class of students. As the late afternoon sunlight shined through the classroom windows, and when the class was nearly over, she moved a few things aside on her desk and sat down there.

With a gentle look on her face, she paused and said, “Before class is over, I would like to share with all of you a thought which I feel is very important. Each of us is put here on earth to learn, share, love, appreciate and give of ourselves... and none of us knows when this fantastic experience will end. It can be taken away at any moment. Perhaps this is a sign that we must make the most use of every single day.”

Her eyes beginning to water, she went on, “So I would like you all to make me a promise: from now on, on your way to school, or on your way home, find something beautiful to notice. It doesn’t have to be something you see — it could be a scent — perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of someone’s house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling；the leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catches one autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground. Please, look for these things，and remember them.”

“For，although it may sound silly to some people, these things are the‘stuff’ of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy. The things we often take for granted. We must make it important to notice them, for at any time... it can all be taken away.”

The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester. Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook.

Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double dip ice cream cone. For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn't do.

Ambition

It is not difficult to imagine a world short of ambition. It would probably be a kinder world: without demands, without abrasions, without disappointments. People would have time for reflection. Such work as they did would not be for themselves but for the collective. Competition would never enter in. Conflict would be eliminated, tension become a thing of the past. The stress of creation would be at an end. Art would no longer be troubling, but purely celebratory in its functions. The family would become superfluous as a social unit, with all its former power for bringing about neurosis drained away. Longevity would be increased, for fewer people would die of heart attack or stroke caused by tumultuous endeavor. Anxiety would be extinct. Time would stretch on and on, with ambition long departed from the human heart.

Ah, how unrelievedly boring life would be!

There is a strong view that holds that success is a myth, and ambition therefore a sham. Does this mean that success does not really exist? That achievement is at bottom empty? That the efforts of men and women are of no significance alongside the force of movements and events? Now not all success, obviously, is worth esteeming, nor all ambition worth cultivating. Which are and which are not is something one soon enough learns on one's own. But even the most cynical secretly admit that success exists; that achievement counts for a great deal; and that the true myth is that the actions of men and women are useless. To believe otherwise is to take on a point of view that is likely to be deranging. It is, in its implications, to remove all motive for competence, interest in attainment, and regard for posterity.

We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time or conditions of our death. But within all this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we shall live: courageously or in cowardice, honorably or dishonorably, with purpose or in drift. We decide what is important and what is trivial in life. We decide that what makes us significant is either what we do or what we refuse to do. But no matter how indifferent the universe may be to our choices and decisions, these choices and decisions are ours to make. We decide. We choose. And as we decide and choose, so are our lives formed.In the end, forming our own destiny is what ambition is about.

The Happy Door

Happiness is like a pebble dropped into a pool to set in motion an ever-widening circle of ripples. As Stevenson has said, being happy is a duty.

There is no exact definition of the word happiness. Happy people are happy for all sorts of reasons. The key is not wealth or physical well-being, since we find beggars, invalids and so called failures who are extremely happy.

Being happy is a sort of unexpected dividend. But staying happy is an accomplishment, a triumph of soul and character. It is not selfish to strive for it. It is, indeed, a duty to ourselves and others.

Being unhappy is like an infectious disease; it causes people to shrink away from the sufferer. He soon finds himself alone, miserable and embittered. There is, however, a cure so simple as to seem, at first glance, ridiculous: If you don't feel happy, pretend to be!

It works. Before long you will find that instead of repelling people, you attract them. You discover how deeply rewarding it is to be the center of wider and wider circles of good will.

Then the make-believe becomes a reality. You possess the secret of peace of mind, and can forget yourself in being of service to others.

Being happy, once it is realized as a duty and established as a habit, opens doors into unimaginable gardens thronged with grateful friends.

The unseen power of love

I will greet this day with love in my heart.

For this is the greatest secret of success in all ventures. Muscle can split a shield and even destroy life but only the unseen power of love can open the hearts of men and until I master this art I will remain no more than a peddler in the market place. I will make love my greatest weapon and none on whom I call can defend against its force.

My reasoning they may counter; my speech they may distrust; my apparel they may disapprove; my face they may reject; and even my bargains may cause them suspicion; yet my love will melt all hearts liken to the sun whose rays soften the coldest clay.

I will greet this day with love in my heart.

And how will I do this? Henceforth will I look on all things with love and I will be born again. I will love the sun for it warms my bones; yet I will love the rain for it cleanses my spirit. I will love the light for it shows me the way; yet I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars. I will welcome happiness for it enlarges my heart; yet I will endure sadness for it opens my soul. I will acknowledge rewards for they are my due; yet I will welcome obstacles for they are my challenge.

I will greet this day with love in my heart.

And how will I speak? I will laud mine enemies and they will become friends; I will encourage my friends and they will become brothers. Always will I dig for reasons to applaud; never will I scratch for excuses to gossip. When I am tempted to criticize I will bite on my tongue; when I am moved to praise I will shout from the roofs.

Is it not so that birds, the wind, the sea and all nature speaks with the music of praise for their creator? Cannot I speak with the same music to his children? Henceforth will I remember this secret and it will change my life.

And how will I act?  I will love all manner of men for each has qualities to be admired even though they be hidden. With love I will tear down the wall of suspicion and hate which they have built round their hearts and in its place will I build bridges so that my love may enter their souls.

I will love the ambitious for they can inspire me! I will love the failures for they can teach me. I will love the kings for they are but human; I will love the meek for they are divine. I will love the rich for they are yet lonely.

I will love the poor for they are so many. I will love the young for the faith they hold; I will love the old for the wisdom they share. I will love the beautiful for their eyes of sadness; I will love the ugly for their souls of peace.

But how will I react to the actions of others? With love. For just as love is my weapon to open the hearts of men, love is also my shield to repulse the arrows of hate and the spears of anger. Adversity and discouragement will beat against my new shield and become as the softest of rains.

And how will I confront each whom I meet? In only one way. In silence and myself I will address him and say “I love you”. Though spoken in silence these words will shine in my eyes, unwrinkled my brow, bring a smile to my lips, and echo in my voice; and his heart will be opened.

Shelley to Elizabeth Hitchhiker

Your letter of the 1st hath this moment reached me. I answer it according to our agreement, which shall be inviolable. Truly did you say that, at our arising in the morning, nature assumes a different aspect.

Who could have conjectured the circumstances of my last letter? Friend of my soul, this is terrible, dismaying: it makes one's heart sink, it withers vital energy...

Dear being, I am thine again; the happiness shall again predominate over this fleeting tribute to self-interest. Yet who would not feel now? Oh, it were as reckless a task to endeavor to annihilate perception while sense existed, as to blunt the sixth sense to such impressions as these! ...

Forgive me, dearest friend? I pour out my whole soul to you. I write by fleeting intervals: my pen runs away with my senses. The impassionateness of my sensations grows upon me. Your letter, too, has much affected me.

Never, with my consent, shall that intercourse cease which has been the day-dawn of my existence, the sun which has shed warmth on the cold drear length of the anticipated prospect of life. Prejudice might demand the sacrifice, but she is an idol to whom we bow not.

The world might demand it; its opinion might require; but the cloud which flees over yon mountain were as important to our happiness, to our usefulness. This must never be, never whilst this existence continues; and when time has enrolled us in the list of the departed, surely this friendship will survive to bear our identity to heaven.

What is love, or friendship? Is it something material... a ball, an apple, a plaything ... which must be taken from one to be given to another? Is it capable of no extension, no communication? Lord Kaimes defines love to be a particularization of the general passion.

But this is the love of sensation, of sentiment ... the absurdest of absurd vanities: it is the love of pleasure, not the love of happiness. The one is a love which is self-centered, self- interested: It desires its own interest; it is the parent of jealousy. Its object is the plaything which it desires to monopolize. Selfishness, monopoly, is its very soul, and to communicate to others part of this love were to destroy its essence, to annihilate this chain of straw.

But love, the love which we worship, ... virtue, heaven, disinterestedness... in a word, friendship... which has as much to do with the senses as with yonder mountains; that which seeks the good of all... the good of its object first, not because that object is a minister to its pleasures, not merely because it even contributes to its happiness, but because it is really worthy, because it has powers, sensibilities, is capable of abstracting itself, and loving virtue's own loveliness ...

Desiring the happiness of others, not from the obligation of fearing the happiness of others, not from the obligation of fearing hell or desiring heaven: but for pure, simple, unsophisticated virtue. You will soon hear again. Adieu, my dearest friend. Continue to believe that when I am insensible to your excellence, I shall cease to exist.

Friendship is indispensable to people's life

Friendship is indispensable to people's life. A man without friends is an angel without wings, whose life will suffer in the long tolerance of loneliness and depression. Friendship is the mother of our psyche, who'll warm her kid when hurt occurs. We have much to share with our friends in life, perplexity, excitement, bitterness etc. Alas, it's magnificent to maintain a genuine friendship.

It takes many special qualities to make a friend. Understanding should come first. Only when we get a better understanding of each other can we gain an authentic and meaningful friendship. We may find our hobbies of common interests. This feeling of affinity gets us closer and closer.

It also takes a special kind of love that seems to know no end. Never hesitate to show your heartfelt care and kindness to your friend when he/she is in trouble. Love is not selfish. Love is endowed by God that we should treasure all our life.

Tolerance is the third essential part in friendship. We are absolutely different persons. This individual distinction may cause conflict between us in every aspect of our life. Don't immerse ourselves in this infliction too long. Try to tolerant him/her in an introspective mood. Saints are not perfect, let alone those ordinary people like us. Afterwards, we should get a good communication. Never shy to confess.


Understanding, love and tolerance are the first three essences that comes to an authentic friendship. Other qualities are also concerned such as thoughtfulness, trust and patience. Remember, friendship is your psyche's guard, and treasure it.

Be Whole in Life

Once a circle missed a wedge. The circle wanted to be whole, so it went around looking for its missing piece. But because it was incomplete and therefore could roll only very slowly, it admired the flowers along the way. It chatted with worms. It enjoyed the sunshine. It found lots of different pieces, but none of them fit. So it left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching. Then one day the circle found a piece that fit perfectly. It was so happy. Now it could be whole, with nothing missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and began to roll. Now that it was a perfect circle, it could roll very fast, too fast to notice flowers or talk to the worms. When it realized how different the world seemed when it rolled so quickly, it stopped, left its found piece by the side of the road and rolled slowly away.

The lesson of the story, I suggested, was that in some strange sense we are more whole when we are missing something. The man who has everything is in some ways a poor man. He will never know what it feels like to yearn, to hope, to nourish his soul with the dream of something better. He will never know the experience of having someone who loves him give him something he has always wanted or never had.

There is a wholeness about the person who has come to terms with his limitations, who has been brave enough to let go of his unrealistic dreams and not feel like a failure for doing so. There is a wholeness about the man or woman who has learned that he or she is strong enough to go through a tragedy and survive, she can lose someone and still feel like a complete person.

 Life is not a trap set for us by God so that he can condemn us for failing. Life is not a spelling bee, where no matter how many words you’ve gotten right, you’re disqualified if you make one mistake. Life is more like a baseball season, where even the best team loses one third of its games and even the worst team has its days of brilliance. Our goal is to win more games than we lose. When we accept that imperfection is part of being human, and when we can continue rolling through life and appreciate it, we will have achieved a wholeness that others can only aspire to. That, I believe, is what God asks of us --- not “Be perfect”, not “Don’t even make a mistake”, but “Be whole”.

If we are brave enough to love, strong enough to forgive, generous enough to rejoice in another’s happiness, and wise enough to know there is enough love to go around for us all, then we can achieve a fulfillment that no other living creature will ever know.