As Amy walked home from school one afternoon, she saw images of symmetry (对称) all around her: in the faces of people, in the buildings she passed, and in the cars that went by. Even the autumn leaves that covered the sidewalk. A butterfly landed on a branch above her, and Amy suddenly stopped. She held her breath and smiled, watching as it opened and closed its perfectly symmetrical wings.

All that month, Amy’s class had been studying different forms of symmetry, and Amy was deeply attracted. They’d observed the mirror symmetry of violins and the rotational symmetry of starfish. They’d even studied symmetry using a microscope and recorded the beauty with a phone camera. Now Mr. Garcia, their science teacher, had given them their final assignment: to find the most beautiful example of symmetry and give a report to the class on it.

“The most beautiful example of symmetry. What on earth could that be?” Amy asked herself. She finally decided to use her microscope to find one. Amy spent hours in the garden on the examination of cells, pieces of rock, and drops of pond water. Although she was amazed by what she saw, none was truly beautiful.

“What are you bringing to class?” Amy asked her friend Cathy on the bus ride to school. “A model airplane,” replied Cathy proudly. “And my brother Mathew is bringing his guitar.” Those things are nice, thought Amy, but there must be something more beautiful.

That evening, she stayed with her microscope until her father called out, “Get inside, Amy. It’s freezing outside. The weather forecast says it’s going to snow.”

Amy’s heart sank. There would be fewer things to study under the microscope. Snow would cover the area like a blanket, hiding everything from sight. Her assignment was due in just a few days. Amy began to feel panic as she was packing up her microscope. Then she caught sight of something white blown onto the stage of her microscope. Yes! The snowflake (雪花)! She looked through the microscope and was amazed by its beauty.

“I have to show it to my class,” Amy cried excitedly.

Finally, it was the day to report.

When I arrived at 6 a.m. in the large hospital kitchen, Rose was already checking name tags on the trays(托盘). “Hi, I’m Janet.” I tried to sound cheerful, although I already knew Rose’s reputation for being impossible to work with. “I’m scheduled to work with you this week.”

Rose stopped what she was doing and peered over her reading glasses. I could tell from her expression she wasn’t pleased to see a student worker. “What do you want me to do? Start the coffee?” I asked.

Rose coldly nodded and went back to checking name tags.

I filled the 40-cup pot with water and began making the coffee when Rose yelled，“That’s not the way to make coffee.” She stepped in and took over.

Nothing I did pleased her. All morning, her eagle eyes missed nothing and her sharp words hurt.

Totally exhausted, I trudged the six blocks home late that June afternoon. As a third-year university student working my way through school, I had never before met anyone like Rose.

Fighting back tears, I wrestled with my dilemma alone in my room. “What shall I do?” The answer caught me completely by surprise. I needed to love Rose.

Working with Rose the next morning, I ignored the hurtful remarks thrown in my direction and did things Rose’s way as much as possible. As I worked, I silently began to surround Rose with a warm blanket of love.

Over the next few days, an amazing thing began to happen. My focus shifted from what she was doing to me and I started seeing Rose as the hurting person she was. Then her icy tension began to melt away.

Throughout the rest of the summer，we had numerous opportunities to work together. Each time, she seemed truly happy to see me. Her bitterness gave way as she started opening up. As I worked with this lonely woman, I listened to her, something no one else had done. I learned that she was burdened by elderly parents who needed her care and her own health problems. She even told me everything about her plan of finding a proper new job in secret.

One day, while I was working alone in one of the hospital kitchens, Rose entered the room without wearing her blue uniform.

Although I never saw Rose again, I still remember her vividly.

Most of us never forget the person that was there for us in our darkest times. Apparently, penguins (企鹅) don’t either.

On a typical day, off the coast of a small Brazilian island, Joao Pereira de Souza headed out fishing. He was disheartened to find that an oil leak had polluted the waters. Staring out at the oily waves, he decided it was not a good day to fish. But walking on the beach that day, he found a struggling penguin, covered in oil and starving.

Joao took the penguin home, and spent a whole week gently cleaning it and nursing it back to health. He named it Dindim, a Portuguese word meaning “ice pop”. Dindim is a Magellanic penguin, a species known for living in the seas of South America. In order to breed (繁殖), they must return to Patagonia, 5,000 miles from Joao’s home.

After a week of rehabilitation (康复), Joao patiently took Dindim back to the sea and taught it how to swim again. When Dindim could swim quite well, Joao took it out into the sea by boat and dropped it off to encourage it to swim back to its home. But when he was back to shore, he found the penguin waiting for him. Joao made two more attempts later, but each time the bird would just return to Joao’s home. It seemed that Dindim had already formed a family bond with Joao and wouldn’t leave.

Joao had no choice but to keep the little creature. During the following months, Dindim would follow behind Joao to fish on the coast joyfully. Dindim also liked to lie on Joao’s lap, letting Joao give it showers, allowing Joao to feed it fish and to pick it up. Joao and his family enjoyed the company of Dindim. But deep inside Joao’s heart, he knew Dindim belonged to the wild. Gradually, the hot summer days witnessed the change of its new feathers. Was it time to say “goodbye”?