There once was a belief that the clouds in the west ended in beauty. Always feel that life lacks flavor, when wallowing in the memory of the past, everything is so clear, and the aftertaste is infinite. Standing in the street of the west wind, the body is not aware of the slight, the light of the lane, the sensitive nerves begin to accept the natural baptism.
Spring, summer, autumn and winter, the four seasons rotate, and then in the winter, though the wind of the corridor tingle the body, but the mind is more comfortable. It was the twilight of the evening that reminded me of the famous line from the ode to the west wind by Shelley, a famous English romantic poet. "winter is coming, can spring be far behind?"
Yes, winter is here, is spring far from us? Nature is the greatest spirit, and it has been quietly buried in the cold of winter. It replaces hope with warmth and guides the future with hope. It in nature and the human the secrets of the most obvious, only through the cold winter can enter the warm spring, also only stick to the days of pain, to reach the shore of happiness, the sail of life never lack of light, only know endure the dark waves, can wear out the darkness, to greet the dawn. Please do not complain about the injustice of life, when god has opened the painful journey for you, the olive who has already finished the victory in the end. As long as you don't give up, don't abandon, even if the fate is ill-fated, I hope you will open your arms to you in the future.
The streets of the blaze, the noisy and noisy city well, there will always be a get rid of the spirit of the spirit, and the cover of the night in the streets. Unconsciously stretched out both hands to try to grasp, but the clenched fist is empty. Suddenly, he turned round and asked, "what are you doing? Why are you trying to catch me?" I was terrified and I said, "who are you? Why don't you have the body to see how you look exactly like me?" He laughed and said, "fool, I am you, you are me too, don't you understand?" When he was about to ask, he flew away, slowly disappearing into the brightly lit night.
I was you, and you were me. One without body, one without soul. When the days are long, we will be defeated by the reality and face the things in front of the fans. Ideals and goals are forsaken, and the soul begins to break away from our bodies. We are no longer the hero clinging to the story, but the animal with the body. Remember a master once said: man is noble because of thought, ideal and action. The right idea is to move on to the ideal, to be able to get a change on the way, and that's why humans evolved in motion.
Yes, how long after, when we look back on the past, will we still remember in the bitter cold winter, I still running on the pursuit of the ideal road. Because I know, only keep running, can penetrate the darkness to meet the dawn, before the goal and the ideal closer, can meet the warmth and hope of spring!
You can always remember what pain is like, but you can't imagine what it's like to be happy. But you must not forget that, after endurance, happiness is what you want, not much, not poor!