天空
Trees are the earth's endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.
No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.
We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit, / Si bleu, si calme!
火药是我的画笔，天空是我的画布。
Gunpowder is my brush, the sky is my canvas.#火药是我的画笔，天空是我的画布。
The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.
After the storm, the sky is clearer.
The world is a great sky, and we are the birds.
To be happy, I must have my books and a piece of sky.