In such a season, people can not help but produce a kind of laziness. If you are too lazy to cut flowers and plant grass, or listen to the wind every month, or look at the rain to send thoughts, it is better to rely on books.
The book has its own place to repose, no more than hidden flowers, trees, mountains and stones. Good reading! There are no more worldly sophistication and intrigue in the book. Even if they exist, they are all stories of others.
Standing on the edge of history, I quietly watch one event after another. From prosperity to the end, emotion to depth, a sketch, two or three points of description are recorded. But many times, I do not want to participate in the process, even if only a spectator, also do not want to listen. I just want to find a place for the soul from the book, enjoy the flowers by leaning on the clouds, stroll around the flowers, make music with poetry and tea, which is not a waste of my life.
I like xuexiaochans interpretation of the writer: no sunshine, not close, very self.. The most successful writer must have demonstrated all his personality. Look! How appropriate. It touched my heart impartially.
The heart of the literati is delicate and sensitive. It is sad for the withering of a flower and a grass. It is also sad to be sensitive to the samsara in spring and autumn. Maybe the secular people cant understand it, but I always believe that the soul needs to inhabit.