Little bitty stinging rain, and big old fat rain, rain that flew in side every ways.
写作就是呼吸，而呼吸就是生活。
I have a vivid memory of what happened， and it was not what I expected. I expected to be applauded for my cleverness and arithmetic skills. "Jeff， you're so smart. You had to have made some tricky estimates， figure out the number of minutes in a year and do some division." That's not what happened. Instead， my grandmother burst into tears. I sat in the backseat and did not know what to do. While my grandmother sat crying， my grandfather， who had been driving in silence， pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. He got out of the car and came around and opened my door and waited for me to follow. Was I in trouble？ My grandfather was a highly intelligent， quiet man. He had never said a harsh word to me， and maybe this was to be the first time？ Or maybe he would ask that I get back in the car and apologize to my grandmother. I had no experience in this realm with my grandparents and no way to gauge what the consequences might be. We stopped beside the trailer. My grandfather looked at me， and after a bit of silence， he gently and calmly said， "Jeff， one day you'll understand that it's harder to be kind than clever."
能源的未来是多元化的，我们必须准备好适应并在这个变化的格局中引领潮流。
"The poet is the one who breaks the silence, who speaks first, who dares to speak."
独自守在窗前，怎样才能熬到天黑