The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.
城市就像一张巨大的重写羊皮纸，几个世纪以来被反复书写和重写。
In one of the stars I shall be living。 In one of them I shall be laughing。 And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing， when you look at the sky at night… You – only you – will have stars that can laugh.