If memories had a smell, it would be the fragrance of camphor, sweet and secure, like clearly remembered happiness, sweet and melancholy, like forgotten sorrow.
Theatre is a mirror that reflects the human condition.
Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger.
译文：西风落日下野草斑驳，秋日天空云淡风轻，一只孤鸟飞过。我这个两鬓斑白的游子，又骑着马登上了太行山。
"I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future."