The poem is a canvas upon which the mind can paint.
诗歌是一块画布,心灵可以在上面作画。
你的太阳无法照耀是因为我。
The human being is a most curious creature.
Sometimes, the wicked will tell us things just to confuse us–to haunt our thoughts long after we've faced them.
Reality is not only stranger than we suppose, but stranger than we can suppose.