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The heart is a lonely hunter, and it will always be so.
There are things that happen and leave no discernible trace, are not spoken or written of, though it would be very wrong to say that subsequent events go on indifferently, all the same, as though such things had never been.
诗人是一个把梯子搭到星星上并一边爬梯子一边拉小提琴的人。
在浩瀚的宇宙中,我们只是一粒尘埃,但我们的好奇心却是无限的。