Maybe every man has had two such women, at least two. Married to a red rose, over time, the red becomes a mosquito blood stain on the wall, while the white remains "moonlight before the bed"; married to a white rose, the white becomes a grain of sticky rice on the clothes, while the red remains a cinnabar mole on the heart.

他得学着面对自己的恐惧，他不可能永远都是三岁，更何况凛冬将至。

你的爱无法持久是因为我。

我的艺术是我对生活混乱的反抗。