Li Bai, a famous poet in the Tang Dynasty, did not like to study when he was young. He often played truant and wandered in the street.

One day, Li Bai did not go to school. He walked east and West in the street. The warm sunshine, the cheerful birds and the swaying flowers and plants in the wind made Li Bai sigh, "How boring is it to read in the room all day on such a fine day?"

Walking along, in the doorway of a broken hut, sat a gray-haired wife, grinding a club-like iron pestle. Li Bai walked over. "What are you doing, old lady?"

"I want to grind this iron pestle into an embroidery needle." The old woman raised her head and smiled at Li Bai. Then she bowed her head and continued to grind.

"Embroidery needles?" Li Bai asked again, "is it an embroidered needle for sewing?"

"Of course!"

"But when the iron pestle is so thick, when can it be made into fine embroidery needles?"

The wife asked Li Bai in reply: "Drops of water can wear stones, fools can move mountains, why can't iron pestles be ground into embroidery needles?"

"But how old are you?"

"As long as I work harder than others, there is nothing I can't do."

The old lady's words made Li Bai feel ashamed. After returning, she never escaped school. He studied hard everyday, and finally became a immortal poet.