Life is nothing more than repeated continuous desire.
That year, it was almost the same season. It was also an evening. I met Margaret.
At that time, I was young and determined to accept the frivolous fashion of my time.
How small and despicable a man is when his narrow desires are hurt.
Yes, sometimes what happens in one minute is more effective than the pursuit of the year.
Such a mixture of all kinds of people, the noisy noisy assembly never seen.
If you love me, let me love you in my own way.
By the time you read this letter, Armand, I am already someone else's mistress, and everything between us is over.
These souls are waiting for the hand of a friendship to bind their wounds and heal their wounds.
If the world has not become perfect all at once, at least it has become better than before.
Of all the dead, she is my favorite. Those of us can only love the dead, because we are too busy to have much time to love other things.
I remember asking, when I got home, I spent three hours dressing up, looking at my clock and watch hundreds of times, but unfortunately they walked in perfect seconds.
The sun shines like a pure fiancee to shine on my mistress.
Death has purified the stench of this rich and obscene place.
The eye has only one dot, but it can see the sea and sky in a glance.
You are the only person I can trust. I can freely think and talk freely before you.
What is even more intolerable is that these tragedies are often caused by grand reasons for upholding certain moral norms.
Maybe I live in your heart, is the best place, where others can not see me, no one can despise our love.
I thought I should forgive her for being me, but now I find myself connected with her forgiveness.
I am not rich enough to love you as I wish, nor poor enough to love you as you wish.
When love becomes a habit in life, it seems impossible to change it without compromising all other aspects of life.
I love every passers-by on the way. Love will give people a sense of kindness.
I think that only by studying people deeply can we create characters, just as only by learning a language carefully can we speak it.
What I'm telling you is a simple and true story, and I'm keeping it simple in detail and natural in its development.
I can't stay at home. I think my room is too small to hold my happiness. I need to pour out my heart to the whole nature.
These disabilities drove the unfortunate suffering woman mad, leaving her hopelessly unable to see kindness, hear the voice of God, and speak the pure language of love and faith.
Everything has been guessed, except the truth.
Finally I calmed down a little, looked around, and was surprised to find that others were still living without stopping because of my misfortune.
Because I was afraid my self-esteem would stir up my stubborn temper again, and I was not well off, I asked them to write down my name, leave the book aside, and went downstairs.
I would rather suspect a few minutes, because there is still a glimmer of hope when people are suspicious.
How selfless others are, how selfless she is.
We must have done too many sins in the past life, or we will enjoy the glory in the next life, so God will make our life through the suffering of atonement and temper.
No matter who has a childhood, no matter what it turns out to be.
The mind is narrow, but he hides his thoughts, his eyes are only a little, but he can look around the vast world.
We are like two stubborn divers in love, only surfacing when we breathe.
Life is only to satisfy the constant desire, and the soul is only the goddess who keeps the flame of love.
She was slightly taller and slimmer, but she had a remarkable ability to conceal this artificial negligence with a little effort in her dress.
A man can be content with vanity when he has no love in his heart, but vanity becomes vulgar when he has love.
My heart is not used to happiness. Perhaps, living in your heart better, in your heart, the world will not see me.
The more I feel that women have two ways of loving, that is, to love with the heart, or to love with the senses, and the two ways are causal to each other.
It may be accidental that she went home alone, but this accident made me feel very happy.
Love me like a good friend, but not to that extent.
If a man is doomed to suffer and die, it is not the same to jump into a fire and burn himself to death with gas.
I looked around, and it was strange to see that the others were not concerned about my misfortune. They were still living as usual.
I live longer than you love me.
But my strength is a gradual process.
Acquiring a heart without experience of attack is like capturing a city without guardians.
In addition to the ideal life, there is the material life, and the most holy determination has some very thin thread connected with reality, but these are some wire, not easy to break.
I look at the clouds that float across, and allow my mind to ride in the wilderness.
My demand is that you love me, and that you love me without horses, without cashmere shawls, without diamonds.