I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Reality is not only stranger than we suppose, but stranger than we can suppose.
记忆是一道永不愈合的伤口,而文学是我们贴在上面的绷带。
解释:话说得太甜蜜动听,说话者就必定别有用心。
"世界是一个影子,而影子是一个谎言。"