On Nov. 18， 1995， violinist Itzhak Perlman， performed a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City.

Stricken with polio as a child， Perlman painfully walked with the aid of two crutches to a chair in the middle of the stage. He carefully laid the crutches on the floor， loosened the clasps of his leg braces， extended one leg forward and the other underneath his chair， picked up his instrument and nodded to the conductor to begin.

But something went wrong. After only seconds of playing， one of the strings on his violin broke. The snap was a gunfire reverberating in the auditorium. The audience immediately knew what happened and fully expected the concert to be suspended until another string or even another instrument could be found.

But Perlman surprised them. He quietly composed himself， closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra resumed where they had left off and Perlman played on three strings. He played with passion， and power. All the time he worked out new fingering in his mind to compensate for the missing string. A work that few people could play well on four strings Perlman accomplished on three.

When he finished， an awesome silence hung in the room. And then as one， the crowd rose to their feet and cheered wildly. Applause burst forth from every corner of the auditorium as fans showed deep appreciation for his talent and his courage.

Perlman smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then he raised his bow to quiet the crowd and said， not boastfully， but in a quiet， pensive， reverent tone， “You know， sometimes it is the artists task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.” Polio left him with less stamina than he had before， yet he went on. Playing a concert on three strings is not unlike his philosophy of life—he persevered with what he had left and still made music.

And isnt that true with us？ Our task is to find out how much music we can still make with what we have left， how much good we can still do， and how much joy we can still share. For Im convinced that the world， more than ever， needs the music only you and I can make.

1995年11月18日，小提琴家伊薩克·帕尔曼在纽约市林肯中心的艾弗里费雪音乐厅举办音乐会。

由于得过小儿麻痹症，帕尔曼拄着双拐艰难地走向舞台中央的椅子上。之后，他小心地把拐杖放在地上，解开腿上的固定支架，一条腿向前伸出，另一条腿放到椅子下面。然后他拿起自己的乐器，向乐队指挥点点头，表示可以开始了。

然而，他仅仅演奏了几秒钟之后，意外出现了，小提琴上的一根琴弦断了。断裂声非常响亮地回荡在大厅内，在场的听众马上就知道出了什么事，并且大家都非常希望音乐会能够暂停，直到帕尔曼找到另一根琴弦或另一把琴后再继续演奏下去。

但帕尔曼的行为让他们感到非常惊讶。只见他闭着眼睛，静静地独自摸索着演奏了一会儿，然后睁开眼睛又示意乐队指挥再次开始。于是，管弦乐队从刚才停下的地方重新开始演奏，帕尔曼也开始接着演奏——在三根琴弦上。他的演奏充满着激情和力量。在整个演奏过程中，他一直在运用脑中思考的新指法来弥补那根失去的琴弦。很少有人能够在四根琴弦上演奏的作品，却被帕爾曼在三根琴弦上完成了。

当他演奏完毕时，大厅内一片寂静。随后听众全体起立，热烈欢呼。雷鸣般的掌声从大厅的每个角落里爆发出来，乐迷们对他的才能和勇气表达了深切的赞赏之情。

帕尔曼笑着擦去额头上的汗水，然后他举起琴弓，示意大家安静。他毫无自满之意，只是用一种异常平静、沉稳且虔诚的语气说道：“你们知道，有时候，用你仅有的一切去发现你能创造多少音乐，是艺术家的责任。”虽然得了小儿麻痹症后，他的体力不如从前了，但他并没有放弃。用三根琴弦演奏音乐正体现了他的人生观——用他仅有的一切坚持创造音乐。

这个道理不也一样适用于我们吗？我们的任务就是用我们仅有的一切去发掘出我们到底能创造多少音乐，能做多少有益的事，能与别人分享多少快乐。因为，我确信，这个世界比以往任何时候都需要只有你和我才能创造的音乐。

Word Study

crutch /kr?t?/ n. 拐杖

extend /?k'stend/ v. 伸开；舒展

suspend /s?'spend/ v. 暂停；中止

Talks between the two countries have now been suspended.

resume /r?'zju?m/ v. 重新开始；（中断后）又继续

He resumed his work after a short rest.

applause /?'pl??z/ n. 掌声

They greeted him with thunderous applause.

stamina /'st?m?n?/ n. 耐力；持久力

persevere /?p??s?'v??（r）/ v. 坚持；不屈不挠

If you persevere with the work， youll succeed in the end.