👋 O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.
Thoughts feeds itself with its own words and grows.
Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you so silent?
亲爱的朱朱 生日快乐，分别一个月了。其实挺不习惯的，老是半夜想着我们相拥而眠，想着我们散步在小街小巷，想着我们热烈地亲吻彼此。有几晚其实没怎么睡着，发疯是一样的想你，没和你说哈哈，因为担心你知道我没睡觉！！！ ...
01 我想给你写一首诗 不止是为了完成我们之前的愿望 而是从一开始早我就想这样去做了 02 我该如何描述你的特别 你对我而言有多特别 可能从那颗眉间跟着表情变动的痣 可能从阳光洒满着你会呼吸的毛孔 ...
敬爱的刘老师、胡老师： 这封信是想告诉你们我申请 CSC 的最新进展，和目前的心理状态。 就在今晚，我查询到CSC 的申请通过了。最近一直在焦虑的等待 CSC 的结果，没想到结果出来后更加焦虑了。 ...
Dear Huan, Recently, our exchanges through letters have become fewer, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Most of the time, we’re able to openly and sincerely share our thoughts with each other. However, there are things that our clumsy tongues can’t quite express—words on paper still carry a unique power. Lately, I’ve noticed that something seems off with you. I’ve asked you about it, and your response was that you’re worried about the upcoming separation we’ll soon face. That’s something I think about every day, too. But with you, I’ve also detected another subtle shift—something about the feeling of love, or the lack thereof. ...
I asked a seed, “How do you know when spring arrives?” When my paintbrush first dips into green, I know spring is about to come. I asked a stream, “How do you know where you’re flowing?” When I look at my tail, I know where my end will be. “But I’ve forgotten where my paintbrush is,” the seed said. “Can you help me find it?” “Of course!” So I buried the seed in the soil of the yard. ...
文/ 正道老师1 逐字稿/不上岸不改名称20122 在开始前，我想我们要先有一个共识，即备考面试也好，做其他事也一样，想要有一个好的结果，有俩点分成重要，一是慎始善终。慎始不一定善终，但不慎始一定不善终，你的开始几乎就注定了你的结果。刚开始时，你一定要冷静思考，仔细调查，根据你自身的情况，制定自己的计划，不要人云亦云，也不要只靠一腔热血，否则最后悔之晚矣。二是讲究“三方”。即方向要正确，方法要有效，方式要适宜。下面我从“三方”的角度谈谈自己对面试的理解以及如何备考面试。 ...
Dear Huanhuan, “If you were Charlie, would you choose to undergo the surgery?” you asked in your last letter. At the time, my answer was no—ignorance is bliss. But after reading most of the book, I’ve begun to reconsider—this time, through the lens of love. In the first half of Flowers for Algernon, I had always believed that Charlie’s mother, Rose, was the only person in the world who truly cared for and loved him. I even mistook his father Matt’s calm demeanor for indifference. When everyone else had given up hope that Charlie could ever become “normal,” I was moved by Rose’s relentless determination—whether she was scolding Charlie, pleading with doctors, or arguing with Matt. ...