晏子春秋
Thought's infidelity lies in its privacy. 'If there is something that you cannot say to me,' asks the lover, 'things that you must think alone, then can you really be trusted?'
她是一场风暴,不是那种你逃离的风暴,而是那种你追逐的风暴。
"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."