Whenever night static lights decayed, a busy day, I with the exhaustion of body and mind, shut the doors and Windows, light resistance outside all the distractions of the hustle and bustle, away from interpersonal intrigues, clears buckish, in the quiet night, do not love the world of mortals like brocade, a person, a book, a tea, the tea, mo xiang, artistic smog, carefree listen to a song, flowing, profound and complicated sound slowly into the heart pool, in long guqin, reading a roll of ink, to express a proverb, is let dust heart together on the music and shallow, placed in a scroll and fragrant.

The stomach has the poetry book spirit from China, most is the book charm can go far. Happy character of I, love quietly elegant beauty, in every color scroll, tender heart tender feelings, light ink flow rhyme written down, therefore the desire of the romantic, wandering in the grandeur of the tang poetry, in the days of light and shadow, Thanksgiving time every time meet, in the moon, much touching twice, to laugh at, are woven with words memory forever, xinyu wisps cool breeze spread along on the way, how many acacia in shallow fragrant, Murray in the month according to the windowsill tender feelings, with a pen, a roll of charming soft moist and warm life picture scroll.

Holding poetry book and mo huan, words and characters, ink edge. I envy Lao zi's heart that no action is the free and easy nature of tao; Love wang really no higher than the mountains, no longer than the feet of life heroic; Sad snow small zen thin wind, rain thin, thin plum, acacia also thin beauty of zen quiet; Miss xu zhimo's flick of the sleeve, do not take away a piece of cloud wonderful artistic conception; Qiong yao fan misty rain, a beautiful woman in the water side of the poignant love.

I love books, love the ink into delusion, mountains and rivers, love, edify sentiment, whenever inspiration empty, with a wisp of breeze, leisurely walk in the mountains and green grass, view the world of mortals like Diane, between pocked with jump completed, smelling green contained sweet, tasted years may wrinkle the breezily, president of wild stock or floating clouds overhead and inspiration in the cool breeze waft of mountains, chung fold, just angry.

A book of a drunk, a word for the ink. The woman of happy word, alone love the lonely aroma in the scroll, loving the tender feeling in the word, raise one's hand to move fully, always sending out a kind of book fragrance beauty. This kind of beauty is the beauty of the inner temperament that shocks people, a kind of elegant and refined beauty. The woman of happy word is warm and quiet elegant, be like smoke cloud in the life, favour disgraces. In the bustling world alone Avon, calm. The woman of happy word knows most savour life, savour art. More like a poem one ink one fragrance tea, listen to the wind and rain listen to fallen flowers. Love alone a corner, fine quality time quiet good, from afar think of a few cozy romantic stories, that water feelings, dignified temperament, deep connotation, always in casual, infiltration between speech and behavior. I like to watch a brush in my own space, let my mind step on the pen, sing in ink, and cook ink time in the book. Low brow pen to express their thoughts, in the silent world, through the world of soot, the world of mortals of the past into a dream, in the level and oblique tones of shallow ink flow mark, let the ink decayed, word spread, will into the beauty of the heart and mind, the aesthetic and the vicissitudes of life, in writing with full depicting words, day after day, year after year, walk the world of mortals, in the ink to count time.