Qian Zhongshu said: Life is just about staying at home, going out, and going home. All our emotions, rational and will pursuits or attempts are nothing more than homesickness in the soul. I want to find someone, one thing, and one position, allowing our body and mind to have a settled destination in this vast world.
The passing years are hidden in the setting sun of the stream, and the years are buried in the years.
How many joys, sorrows, sorrows, and joys in the world, how many beautiful stories, and how many ordinary families in the alleys eventually became scenery in the mountains and rivers.
The mist and rain are not stained with sadness, and the passing years are not dusty. In the end, we are just alone, wandering alone in the vast sea of people, and passing through sorrow and joy in the depths of the world.
I didn’t realize the dream of spring grass in the pond, and the autumn sound of the sycamore leaves on the steps.
Spring grass pond, autumn sounds like sycamore leaves, days like flowing water, flowers bloom, coming and going silently, whose years are pale?
I was counting the lonely time under the old wooden window, and by the misty rain, I thought about that shallow thoughts carefully, letting the rain outside the window fall, as if only overnight, the seasons quietly flow, and the world has changed.
In order to ask the mountain man what happened, he sat and watched the flow of youthfulness, but his hair was bright.
Everything is still, everything is changing, the wind chime in front of the window jingles in the passing wind, no matter how dusk is gone, it will not change the past. However, the butterflies that I stayed there that year no longer know where to fly, and who was parked outside the window, decorating whose dreams.
Those who have loved and those who once agreed to leave together, after watching a few flowers bloom with you, they left you at the ferry of life, and in other people's stories, they play a role that has nothing to do with you. Leave you behind and recall the past events over and over again .
Several times of encounter in the world, laughing for a hundred years, how many times can you get?
Things in the world are erratic, and none of us know whether this parting is the last meeting; whether this goodbye will be difficult to see for the rest of our lives.
People in the world are often not as good as the moss in front of that step, and can grow according to their own wishes; they are not as good as the red apricot plant, and can do whatever they want.
We always think that hard work can bring rewards, waiting can bring reunion, deep affection can bring white hair, and the red beans planted can produce the same lovesickness. But I don’t know that people are easy to change, and the world is full of injuries. Tomorrow is always unpredictable waiting for you.
No matter how sad or happy you are, people only live for one lifetime. Since they come to the world, why not experience all love, hate, and resentment? Even with tears in their eyes, they should say goodbye willingly. Because only by living, loving, and pain can we live up to this youthful life.
Several times of the world hurt the past, and the mountain shape is still on the cold current.
Passing through the vast ocean and savoring the world, in the dispersed time, there have been so many clearly and destructive past events, but only the mountains and rivers remain.
On the chessboard of life, we faced the sudden ending again and again, regretted the missed again and again, and felt sad after parting again and again. So on bright moonlit nights and autumn leaves, I tasted the loneliness and melancholy alone.
I have also been wandering for a long time. Over the past ten years, I have been deeply grateful and have been a life-and-death teacher and friend.
Memories are flowers blooming in the passing years. They have never been gorgeous and are silent in the wind.
We are all just passers-by on the road. After walking through a few scenes of water and flowers blooming, and after seeing the light smoke of sunsets, we will grow old in panic.
It is just that in this destined itinerary, in those wasted time, who have we been let down and who have we let down? Who set a fire in those tiny memories and burned all lovesickness to ashes.
The bright moon in the old days can no longer awaken the past like smoke; the wild geese passing by in the clouds can no longer bring back a brocade letter. Only the sunset hanging on the treetops can accompany you to grow old.
Things in the world are all flowing water, and it is considered a dream of life.
In the dream of time, we come here in a daze and leave in a daze.
On the road of passing years, there have been so many fruitless flowers blooming, fruits that have died prematurely, and many hurried separations have been written.
Things in the world are like water, Lives like dreams , the scattered rhetoric is buried with the old lovesickness, and the lights of the world clearly extinguish the warmth and coldness of the world.
Life is a brilliant flower blooming, the old and old flowers fall are the flow of seasons, and the drunk dream is the cycle of time. Since you come, you will be at ease, don’t ask about the previous fate, don’t tell the way back, just in the scattered days, the clouds and flowing water, and you will be happy to spend this life.
Grass and trees also know sorrow, but their youth is still white. Sighing in this life, whoever gives up will receive it!
Since we know that time is like clouds passing by, we should cherish it when fate comes, and live up to the wind and moon of the world and the beautiful years.
Time is the morning smoke in the coldest days on the road, the family in the bamboo fence and thatched hut, and the girl's voice on the swings gradually disappears, the melancholy of people outside the wall when they are independent, the fallen flowers in the drizzle, and the longing in the bright moon.
The plants and trees are affectionate, and many people have easily delivered endless sorrow; time has been heartless, and several things like fireworks have faded, and how many years have passed.
While the fallen flowers have not been swept, while the dream has not returned, and while the years are just right, in the faint time, warm a pot of wine and drink all the past in the cup.
While the day is not dawn, while the years are not old, and when the leisure is not abandoned, continue a dream in the quiet and clear night, and finish the story.
