Freedom was a thing that shifted as you looked at it, the way a forest is dense with trees up close but from outside, from the empty meadow, you see its true limits. Being free had nothing to do with chains or how wide your cage was.
We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print.
Happiness in this world, when it comes, comes incidentally. Make it the objet of pursuit, and it leads us a wild-goose chase, and is never attained. Follow some other object, and very possibly we may find that we have cought happiness without dreaming of it.
真相不在光明中,而在我们不敢探索的阴影里。
The world is full of signs and wonders that come, and go, and if you are lucky you might catch the tail of one as it flies past.