Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream。
在那里的泥土里,这种种子多得成灾。而一棵猴面包树苗,假如你拔得太迟,就再也无法把它清除掉。它就会盘踞整个星球。它的树根能把星球钻透,如果星球很小,而猴面包树很多,它就把整个星球搞得支离破碎。
"In the end, all we have are the stories we tell ourselves."
真相很少纯粹,也绝不简单。