The work of art is a fragment of the divine.
身体记得心灵遗忘的东西。
回忆这东西若是有气味的话,那就是樟脑的香,甜而稳妥,像记得分明的快乐,甜而怅惘,像忘却了的忧愁。
The novel is the great lie that reveals the great truths.