Audrey Hepburn was born on May 4, 1929 in Brussels, Belgium, with the given name of Edda Kathleen van Heemstra Hepburn-Ruston. She really was blue-blood from the beginning with her father, a wealthy English banker, and her mother, a Dutch baroness. After her parents divorced, Audrey went to London with her mother where she went to a private girls school.

      Later, when her mother moved back to the Netherlands, she attended private schools as well. While vacationing with her mother in Arnhem, Holland, Hitler's army suddenly took over the town. It was here that she fell on hard times during the Nazi occupation. Audrey suffered from depression and malnutrition. After the liberation, Audrey went to a ballet school in London on a scholarship and later began a modeling career. . wow power leveling,

     As a model, she was graceful and, it seemed, she had found her niche in life--until the film producers came calling. After being spotted modeling by a producer, she was signed to a bit part in the European film Nederlands in 7 lessen (1948) in 1948. Later, she had a speaking role in the 1951 film, Young Wives' Tale (1951) as Eve Lester. The part still wasn't much

By the end of the sixties, after her divorce from actor Mel Ferrer, Audrey decided to retire while she was on top. Later she married Dr. Andrea Dotti. From time to time, she would appear on the silver screen. One film of note was Robin and Marian (1976) with Sean Connery in 1976. In 1988, Audrey became a special ambassador to the United Nations UNICEF fund helping children in Latin America and Africa, a position she retained until 1993. .

       It was here that she fell on hard times during the Nazi occupation. Audrey suffered from depression and malnutrition. After the liberation, Audrey went to a ballet school in London on a scholarship and later began a modeling career. As a model, she was graceful and, it seemed, she had found her niche in life--until the film producers came calling
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      She was named to People's magazine as one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world. Her last film was Always (1989) in 1989. Audrey Hepburn died on January 20, 1993 in Tolochnaz, Switzerland, from colon cancer. She had made a total of 31 high quality movies. Her elegance and style will always be remembered in film history as evidenced by her being named to Empire magazine's "The Top 100 Movie Stars of All Time".

My secret of staying young is simple: devote your attention to the part of you that's young and growing your brain. Keep your mind awake and you will stay young ail over. These are exciting times. Take an interest in the world around you, and make a point of learning at least one new thing every day.

　　No matter how old you are, it's not too late to make your life more interesting. I know a housewife without knowledge in the past who made herself into an excellent industrial designer. I know an old electrical engineer who has become a highly paid artist.Get over the idea that you are over too old to go back to school. I know a man who entered medical college at 70. He got his degree with honours and became a famous doctor. An other man went to law school at 71 and now is an active lawyer.
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　　No matter how old people are, staying young is easy for these who live in the future. You can clo it if you are active enough to try. Keep your mind awake and active: that's the only youth elixir.

My fair lady

To this day I remember my mum''s letters. It all started in December 1941. Every night she sat at the big table in

the kitchen and wrote to my brother Johnny, who had been drafted that summer. We had not heard from him since the

Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

I didn''t understand why my mum kept writing Johnny when he never wrote back.

"Wait and see-we''ll get a letter from him one day," she claimed. Mum said that there was a direct link from the

brain to the written word that was just as strong as the light God has granted us. She trusted that this light would

find Johnny.
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I don''t know if she said that to calm herself, dad or all of us down. But I do know that it helped us stick

together, and one day a letter really did arrive. Johnny was alive on an island in the Pacific.

I had always been amused by the fact that mum signed her letters, "Cecilia Capuzzi", and I teased her about that.

"Why don''t you just write ''Mum''?" I said.

I hadn''t been aware that she always thought of herself as Cecilia Capuzzi. Not as Mum. I began seeing her in a new

light, this small delicate woman, who even in high-heeled shoes was barely one and a half meters tall.

She never wore make-up or jewelry except for a wedding ring of gold. Her hair was fine, sleek and black and always

put up in a knot in the neck. She wouldn''t hear of getting a haircut or a perm. Her small silver-rimmed pince-nez

only left her nose when she went to bed.
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Whenever mum had finished a letter, she gave it to dad for him to post it. Then she put the water on to boil, and we

sat down at the table and talked about the good old days when our Italian-American family had been a family of ten:

mum, dad and eight children. Five boys and three girls. It is hard to understand that they had all moved away from

home to work, enroll in the army, or get married. All except me.

Around next spring mum had got two more sons to write to. Every evening she wrote three different letters which she

gave to me and dad afterwards so we could add our greetings.

Little by little the rumour about mum''s letters spread. One day a small woman knocked at our door. Her voice

trembled as she asked: "Is it true you write letters?"

"I write to my sons."
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"And you can read too?" whispered the woman.

"Sure."

The woman opened her bag and pulled out a pile of airmail letters. "Read… please read them aloud to me."

The letters were from the woman''s son who was a soldier in Europe, a red-haired boy who mum remembered having seen

sitting with his brothers on the stairs in front of our house. Mum read the letters one by one and translated them

from English to Italian. The woman''s eyes welled up with tears. "Now I have to write to him," she said. But how was

she going to do it?
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"Make some coffee, Octavia," mum yelled to me in the living room while she took the woman with her into the kitchen

and seated her at the table. She took the fountain pen, ink and air mail notepaper and began to write. When she had

finished, she read the letter aloud to the woman.

"How did you know that was exactly what I wanted to say?"

"I often sit and look at my boys'' letters, just like you, without a clue about what to write."
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A few days later the woman returned with a friend, then another one and yet another one--they all had sons who fought

in the war, and they all needed letters. Mum had become the correspondent in our part of town. Sometimes she would

write letters all day long.

Mum always insisted that people signed their own letters, and the small woman with the grey hair asked mum to teach

her how to do it. "I so much want to be able to write my own name so that my son can see it." Then mum held the

woman''s hand in hers and moved her hand over the paper again and again until she was able to do it without her help.
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After that day, when mum had written a letter for the woman, she signed it herself, and her face brightened up in a

smile.

One day she came to us, and mum instantly knew what had happened. All hope had disappeared from her eyes. They stood

hand in hand for a long time without saying a word. Then mum said: "We better go to church. There are certain things

in life so great that we cannot comprehend them." When mum came back home, she couldn''t get the red-haired boy out

of her mind.

After the war was over, mum put away the pen and paper. "Finito," she said. But she was wrong. The women who had come

to her for help in writing to their sons now came to her with letters from their relatives in Italy. They also came

to ask her for her help in getting American citizenship.

On one occasion mum admitted that she had always had a secret dream of writing a novel. "Why didn''t you?" I asked.

"All people in this world are here with one particular purpose," she said. "Apparently, mine is to write letters."

She tried to explain why it absorbed her so.

"A letter unites people like nothing else. It can make them cry, it can make them laugh. There is no caress more

lovely and warm than a love letter, because it makes the world seem very small, and both sender and receiver become

like kings in their own kingdoms. My dear, a letter is life itself!"

Today all mum''s letters are lost. But those who got them still talk about her and cherish the memory of her letters

in their hearts.
 

All Mum’s Letters

 The Wallet

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years. The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. (world of warcraft power leveling)
  I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline -- 1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years earlier. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting, on powder－blue stationery with a little flower in the left－hand corner. It was a "Dear John"letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed Hannah.

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way, except for the name Michael, to identify the owner. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope. The operator suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment, then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number. " She said as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and ask whoever answered if the person wanted her to connect me. Aion kina

 I waited a few minutes and then the super－visor was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you. " I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped. " Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was thirty years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now？" I asked. "I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago, "the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them, they might be able to track down the daughter. "She gave me the name of the nursing home, and I called the number. The woman on the phone told me the old lady had passed away some years ago, but the nursing home did have a phone number for where the daughter might be living. I thanked the person at the nursing home and phoned the number she gave me. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home. This whole thing is stupid, I thought to myself. Why am I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that has only three dollars and a letter that is almost sixty years old？

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living, and the man who answered the phone told me , "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "Even though it was already 10 P. M. , I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well, "he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television. "

 world of warcraft gold,I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silverhaired old－timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eyes. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder－blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael. "She looked away for a moment, deep in thought, and then said softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only sixteen at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor. "

"Yes, " she continued, "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And, " she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, tears welled up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael. . . "I thanked Hannah and said good－bye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you？"I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet. "I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He 's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times. "  wow gold
 
　"Who's Mr. Goldstein？"I asked, as my hand began to shake. "He 's one of the old－timers on the eighth floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks. "I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
 
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He 's a darling old man. "We went to the only room that had any lights on, and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost hiswallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing. ""This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours. "I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet, and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it！ It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward. "
 
　"No, thank you, "I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet. "The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter？""Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is. "  ffxi gil

 He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah？You know where she is？How is she？Is she still as pretty as she was？Please, please tell me, " he begged. "She's fine. . . just as pretty as when you knew her, " I said softly.

The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is？I want to call her tomorrow. "He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister？I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her. "

 "Michael, " I said, "come with me. "We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night lights lit our way to the day room, where Hannah was sitting alone, watching the television.

The nurse walked over to her. "Hannah, "she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man？"She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.

Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me？"She gasped. "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!"He walked slowly toward her, and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces. "See, "I said. "See how the good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be. "

world of warcraft power leveling, About three weeks later, I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding？Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"