Flowers are gone, and there is still the sound of flowers falling in my heart. One by one, falling gently in the deserted mountains.
Maybe, you can't stand on a towering mountain, but you can still stand up as a pine or a beautiful bamboo, adding a little greenery and a landscape to your life.
Maybe, you can't rise to the shining sun, but you can still rise to a bright moon or a faint star, adding a little light and heat to the earth.
Maybe you can't dress up as a graceful peony, but you can still grow into a wild flower or a grass, adding a wisp of fragrance and vitality to human beings.
Life is the art of drawing sufficient conclusions form insufficient premises.
and regard other people's doubts as jack-o'-lantern, and boldly go your way at night.
In those days, no matter from what angle you were read, you were perfect, and what you lacked was already filled with my imaginary brush.