The true genius shudders at incompleteness — and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it ought to be.
I think of my pile of old paperbacks, their pages gone wobbly, like they’d once belonged to the sea.
也许每一个男子全都有过这样的两个女人,至少两个。娶了红玫瑰,久而久之,红的变了墙上的一抹蚊子血,白的还是"床前明月光";娶了白玫瑰,白的便是衣服上沾的一粒饭黏子,红的却是心口上一颗朱砂痣。
真相很少是纯粹的,也从来不是简单的。