People live for the sake of living itself, not for anything other than living. Life belongs to everyone's own feelings and does not belong to anyone else's opinions.

Cry with laughter and live with death. Being alive is a wonderful thing in itself.

No path in the world is repeated, and no life can be replaced.

Nothing is more convincing than time, because time can change everything without informing us.

As a word, "alive" is full of power in our Chinese language. Its power does not come from shouting or attacking, but from enduring, to endure the responsibilities that life gives us, and to endure the happiness that reality gives us. and misery, boredom and mediocrity.

I saw that the old man's back was as dark as an ox's back, and the two people entering their twilight life were plowing the old-fashioned field, turning it like waves on the water.

Writing and life are actually exactly the same. We are all lost in this world. We all look for directions according to our own paths. Maybe we are right, maybe we are wrong, maybe sometimes we are right, sometimes we are wrong. Before what the Chinese call the coffin conclusion, before what the ancient Romans called before birth and before death, none of us know what is waiting for us in the time ahead.

Once a person understands himself, he also understands the world. The writer's mission is not to vent, accuse or expose, he should show people nobility. The nobility mentioned here is not the kind of simple beauty, but the detachment after understanding all things, treating likes and dislikes equally, and looking at the world with sympathy.

Human experience and desire, as well as imagination and understanding, will cancel all different boundaries and allow a person to feel his own destiny from the experiences of others, just like seeing his own image in different mirrors.

I know that dusk is fleeting and night is falling from the sky. I saw the vast land with its strong chest exposed, which was a calling gesture, just like women calling their children, and the land calling for the coming of night.

I looked at the winding path leading to the city, and could not hear the sound of my son running barefoot. The moonlight shone on the road, as if it was sprinkled with salt.

It seems like a tragedy to outsiders, but the people involved only regard it as a period of life.

Only those who have been crushed by fate can understand the mercy of time.