《围城》里有一段话，是这样记录失恋的。
方渐鸿把信还给唐小姐时，痴钝并无感觉。过些时，他才像从昏厥里醒来，开始不住的心痛，就像因蜷缩而麻木的四肢，到伸直了血脉流通，就觉得刺痛。昨天囫囵吞枣地忍受了整块痛苦，当时没工夫辨别滋味，现在，牛反刍似的，零星断续，细嚼出深深没底的滋味。
今天摘抄的是《冰与火之歌-第一卷-权利的游戏》卷首语-续上
Especially not a commandert like this one.
Ser Waymar Roycer was the youngest son of ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife.Mounted on his huge black destrier,the knight towered above Will and Gared on theirs small garrons.He wore black lesther boots,black old pants,black moleskin gloves,and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather.Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night`s Watch for less than half a year,but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned.
His cloak was his crowning glory;sable, thick and black and soft as sin.”Bet he killed them all himself, he did,”Gared told the barracks over wine,”twisted their little heads off,our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh.
我认为这世间美好的东西之一就是逻辑与思维了。
这是一个美丽的故事。这都是因为我的心情美丽而美丽。
