We always pass by on the edge of something, because we are rushing down our heads, and we have often walked through it several times, and we still don’t know what has existed next to us. Some people are always in the circle of sorrow, because even when he doesn't need to hurry, his heart seems to be anxious. The only pleasure of such a person is to bury himself in those poor memories.
Such a person is somewhat unfortunate. His days and energy were spent in vain and he was looking forward to a moment, which seemed to be a fortune for him. That day came, and he would repay everything he had. So he abandoned all the days before that moment and was in the roughness of anxiety. Maybe that moment could really satisfy him, but he didn't know that all the time in his bag had been spent. My heart couldn't help but feel sad for him.
When a stream bets from the lake where it has it, it bursts out and whispers to flow to a flat place. Midway through, an upright reed can make it vortex, and a piece of red sand can make it jump. It makes time turn like a wind mill. After countless twists and turns, many other streams gather and add, and finally slowly flow into the sea with white foam. Its admiration is definitely not because it finally flows into the sea. It naturally enters the sea. What the poet praises it is its shining and its prosperity; what the philosophers praise it is its force and its twists and turns. These strengths are revealed at every moment in its flow, not that end. The end point is its end. It has reached the end point and it is gone. It's finished.
How can we ignore every moment of our journey!
If we are afraid of a last moment, we cannot avoid worry, and from then on, the worries of this speaker will be endless, which is the shackle that we are willing to add.
A star, a star with blue light, looks like it will not have anything more than ordinary, but its light will take thousands of years to reach our eyes. We are now surprised by the charming and dazzling starlight. Perhaps its original body has long been cold or even disappeared. If a star wants to know its own influence, the idea is that fools will also say it is a delusion. The star is quietly flashing its light, and never thought that it would last forever and later, its life would ignore it, ignore its future, and ignore its own influence. Its light is so bright that each of us has discovered a little in the blue sky when we raised our heads in the quiet night, but why have not many people understood it in the astral body?
The "last" is like a point in the specific shape, and the journey to reach it is like a line. Should we say that one is long or a line is long?
Ignore the largest and longest section, but specifically wait for the very small last point. This human being who cares about interests and values is often ignored his own value.
Great wise man, can you guarantee that there is an accurate last point, which is truly beautiful, meaningful, and beyond everything before? Tell me, I'm not a skeptic.
Isn’t it? The most perfect meaning is the perfection of time and the perfection of time. The various sections of life can express life together. Only when they are connected regularly can they become music, and only when they are combined regularly can they become a painting. A person who specifically waits for a last good moment is like looking for a perfect ending of the same painting at the end of the same painting, but how can a person who skips the entire piece or the entire painting show his masterpiece at the last moment?
So I want to argue that the existence of meteorite is not short. I say that its swaying life that disappears into a silver belt of light is longer than anything. Its every second is not wasted, its entire time is burning, its end is without embers, and its life is most pure. If there is no legacy in it, what is more profound than the impression of the beautiful silver light that moment remains in people’s hearts!
A person who lives a thousand years of blank days will truly be sad for himself, because he lives as if he is not alive.
