To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain. When really, he thinks, it’s a glowing puddle you carry in your hands; you should spend all your energy protecting it.
对于那样的人来说，时间是过剩的，是他们看着慢慢流干的桶。但实际上，他认为，它是你手中捧着的一滩发光的泥水；你应该用所有的精力去保护它。
我不需要王冠来成为女王。
与其抱怨黑暗，不如点亮一支蜡烛。
Every story is a battle against silence, a way to give voice to those who have been erased.