Cần tìm gấp một mẫu chuyện TA ngắn mà có ý nghĩa mong các bác dúp (Gấp quá 10k G nhá) Mai em cần rồi

truyện hay
mình cũng sưu tầm 1 loạt truyện kiểu này , ý nghĩa

1.
An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing?"
The eagle answered: "Sure, why not."
So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested.. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.
Moral of the story: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.
Đọc cho zui :
2.
A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven''t got the energy."
"Well, why don''t you nibble on some of my droppings?" replied the bull. "They''re packed with nutrients."
The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.
He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.
Moral of the story: Bull**** might get you to the top, but it won''t keep you there!
3.
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.
As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.

Moral of the story: (1) Not everyone who ****s on you is your enemy (2) Not everyone who gets you out of **** is your friend (3) And when you''re in deep ****, it''s best to keep your mouth shut!

thêm nào
"A priest offered a Nun a lift. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.
The nun said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?" The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.
The nun once again said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?"
The priest apologized "Sorry, sister, but the flesh is weak."
Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way.
On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129.
It said, "Go forth and seek, further up you will find glory."
Moral of the story:
If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity. "

Ôi tốt quá các bác nữa đi . 10k cho chuyện hay nhất . Anh Mo thì miễn phí nhé

The salty coffee (cafe muối), em có cả T. Anh và tiếng Việt, bác còn cần nữa ko, em up lên

Úi, thế thì chắc Chicken Soup For Soul là hợp ấy nhỉ? Hồi xưa mình còn làm hẳn 1 blog gửi truyện tiếng Anh lên cơ:
VD một truyện nhá, truyện này là cảm hứng cho bài hát "Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree" :
Going home --by Pete Hamill
They were going to Fort Lauderdale,Florida. There were six of them, three boys and three girls, and they got on the bus at 34th Street, carring sandwiches and wine in paper bags.They were dreaming of golden beaches and tides of the sea as the gray ,cold spring of New York vanished behind them.Vingo was on the bus form the beginning.
As the bus passed through NewJersery, they began to notice that Vingo never moved. He sat in front of the young people, his dusty face masking his age, dressed in a plain brown suit that did not fit him. His fingers were stained from cigarettes and he chewed the inside of his lip a lot. He sat in complete silence.
Deep into the night, the bus pulled into a Howard Johnson''s restaurant and everybody got off the bus except Vingo. The young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life; perhaps he was a sea captain; maybe he had run away from his wife; he could be an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
"We''re going to Florida," the girl said brightly." you going that far?"
"I don''t know," Vingo said.
"I''ve never been there," she said."I hear it''s beautiful."
"It is," he said quietly,as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
"You Live there?"
"I was there in the Navy,Jacksonville."
"Want some wine?" she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she wen back to the others as Vingo noded in sleep.
In the morning they awoke ourside anther Howard Johnson''s and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously, and the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they went back on the bus , the girl sat with Vingo again. After a while, slowly and painfully, he began to tell his story. He had been in jail in New York for last four years, and now he was going home.
"Are you married?"
"I don''t know."
"You don''t know?" she said.
"Well,when I was in jail I wrote to my wife. I said,'' Martha, I understand if you can''t stay married to me.''I said I was gonna be away a long time, and that if she couldn''t stand it, if the kids kept askin'' questions, if it hurt her too much, well, she could just forget me. Get a new guy--she''s a wonderful woman, really something-- and forget about me. I told her she didn''t have to write me or nothing, and she didn''t. Not for three-and- a-half years."
"And you''re going home now,not knowing?"
"Yeah," he said shyly. "Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through I wrote her.I told her that if she had a new guy, I understood. But ,if she didn''t, if she would take me back shou should let me know. We used to live in this town, Brunswick,and there''s a great big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her if she would take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I would get off and come home. If she didn''t want me, forget it; no handkerchief and I''d keep going on through."
"Wow," the girl said. "Wow."
She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con''s mask, as if fortifying him self against still another disappointment. Then it was ten miles, and then five, and the bus became very quiet.
Then suddenly all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances, shaking clenched fists in triumph and exaltation.All except Vingo.
Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree, It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs, 20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome, blowing and billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat, holding himself tightly, and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
Shmily
Written by Laura Jeanne Allen
My Grandfather and Grandmother were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily"
in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where they always had warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring.
"Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my Grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave
"shmily" on the very last sheet.
There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly
were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows.
"Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel
and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of their
house as the furniture.
It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents'' game. Skepticism had kept some of them from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents'' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious
little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection
which not everyone is lucky to experience.
Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped
into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other''s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble.
My Grandmother whispered to one of her friends about how cute my Grandfather was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick ''em."
Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings:
a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.
But there was a dark cloud in the couples'' life: my Grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always,
my Grandfather was with her every step of the way.
He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.
Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my Grandfather''s steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my Grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally,
she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, my Grandfather would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over my Grandmother.
Then one day, what everyone dreaded finally happened. My Grandmother was gone.
"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my Grandmother''s funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time.
My Grandfather stepped up to my Grandmother''s casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her.
Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.
Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. I knew that, although I couldn''t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y:
See How Much I Love You.
]

The Dog and the Piece of Meat
One sunny day, a dog was fortunate enough to find a large and juicy piece of meat. Happily going his way with the meat in his mouth, the dog reached the side of a stream. Seeing his reflection in the water, the dog believed the image to be that of another dog also holding a piece of meat. Wishing to own the other dog''s meat, he opened his mouth and barked loudly. But just as his jaws came apart, the meat slipped away and fell into the swift waters of the stream.

â?oBEWARE LEST YOU LOSE THE SUBSTANCE BY GRASPING AT THE SHADOW.â?

chuyện của bác anhtuannd dài quá em cần chuyện thật ngắn cỡ hơn100 chữ thôi . Các bác cứ up dùm em đi.

Thế thì ngắn gọn nhé
Three words are not enough
Girl: Do you really love me?
Boy: Of course I do.
Girl: I wanna hear you say it.
Boy: I don?Tt have to.
Girl: Why not?
Boy: Because...
Girl: I just want to hear you say it in words.
Boy: I can?Tt...
The girl started to cry softly and said:
Then you don''t love me...
The two continued to walk in silence. They reached the girls home.
Girl: Why?
Boy: Do you really want to know?
Girl: (hesitantly) Yes.
He hugged her gently, kissed the tip of her nose and whispered in her ear,
"Because three words are not enough..."

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