一幅画像束缚住了我们。我们无法走出它,因为它存在于我们的语言中,语言似乎无情地一次次地重复给我们看。
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing, 
云原生不是趋势,而是现实。
The people are the government, administering it by their agents; they are the government, the sovereign power.