The land doesn’t belong to us—we borrow it from future generations.
The wild is a place of danger. To survive, you have to respect it.
The novel is a mirror carried along a high road.
我们以为我们有这么多问题。我们怎么知道我们是幸福的？
爱就是爱，不是爱就不是爱。浅薄的爱根本不算爱。