Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream。
希望是一幅美好的早餐,但却是一顿糟糕的晚餐。
希望不是一种感觉;它是一种可行的事情。