Always Too Early or Too Late

Why do I read novels For me, reading novels has never been a boring pastime to kill time, but a spiritual journey of my own. It is a place for my soul to find a place to live in the same trivial daily life. It is also a way for me to see the world and understand myself. Life is always wrapped up in a hurried rhythm. The alarm clock in the morning, the busyness during the day, and the exhaustion at night. The days are like a movie with the fast forward button pressed, passing by in a hurry without leaving much mark. The novel is the hand that gently presses the pause button, allowing me to temporarily escape the chaos of reality, hide in a brand new world, take a breath, slow down, and feel the beauty and enthusiasm that have never been touched in reality. I prefer to meet all kinds of living souls in novels. They have flesh and blood, joy and sorrow, persistence and regret. They are like real people around me, but they have the courage to transcend reality to experience a life that I have never dared to imagine. I will follow the Jianghu knights to the end of the world with their swords, and watch them rejoice in grudges, attach great importance to love and righteousness, and keep their original intentions in the light of swords and shadows; I will accompany ordinary people in the world of fireworks, and watch them face the trials and tribulations of life. The old heart is full of enthusiasm, and the tenderness and tenacity are hidden in the daily necessities. I will also follow the people in the book through the mountains, lakes and seas, across the mountains and rivers over time, and watch them rejoice in the encounter, be reluctant to leave in the separation, struggle in the difficult situation, and move forward in hope. The distant places I have never reached, the experiences I have never had, and the courage I have never mustered can all be realized in the novel. It seems that through their eyes, I have lived my life over and over again, experiencing thousands of possibilities in life through other people's stories. The charm of the novel is even more hidden in the words that directly touch people's hearts. Those words that are gentle and delicate, sharp and majestic, or fresh and timeless can always outline thousands of worlds, and can also describe the most secret folds deep in the human heart. Sometimes it's a heart-piercing sentence that instantly touches the softness of the heart, allowing the long-pent-up emotions to have an outlet; sometimes it's a delicate description of the environment, making it seem like a vivid picture unfolds in front of the eyes, as if one is personally there, feeling the hazy mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River, and the sky and sky in the north of the Great Wall; sometimes it's a clever plot twist that makes people smile knowingly, or make their hearts tighten, following the emotions of the people in the book, whether they are happy or sad. Words are silent, but they have the power to transcend time and space, allowing authors and readers who have never met to resonate with each other deep in their souls. In those words, I understood farewell and reunion, persistence and letting go, and slowly understood the unspoken emotions and expectations in my heart. Reading novels is also a silent growth for me. The truths in those stories are never blunt preaching, but are hidden in every choice of the characters and every development of the plot. Seeing their determination when facing decisions, their tenacity when facing setbacks, their relief when facing losses, and their calmness when facing regrets, unknowingly, these qualities also quietly infiltrated my heart. When I encounter difficulties in reality and want to retreat, I will think of the characters in the novel who have overcome obstacles and faced difficulties, and I will have more courage to face difficulties; when I am entangled and worried about small things, I will think of the transparency and calmness of the people in the book after going through wind and rain, and I will learn to let go of my obsessions and reconcile with life. The stories I read and the people I met will eventually turn into the strength in my heart, making me become calmer, more transparent, and gentler as I grow up. More importantly, reading novels gave me a legitimate reason to be alone. In the uninterrupted time, hold a book, sit on the sofa, or lean against the window. Outside the window is the noisy world, with busy traffic and people, but within the pages of the book is a world that belongs to me alone. There is no need to cater to anyone, no need to accommodate anyone, no need to pretend to be yourself, just follow the rhythm of the story, let your thoughts float freely, and let your mind relax completely. In this fast-paced era, being alone has long become a luxury. We are always tied up in various social interactions and trivial matters, and rarely have the opportunity to talk to ourselves. While reading novels, I can temporarily put aside all identities and just be myself. In the stories of others, I can examine my own heart, clarify my thoughts, and reconcile with myself in solitude. In the final analysis, the reason why I prefer reading novels is because they allow me to retain a yearning and expectation for beauty in my ordinary life; it allows me to still have enthusiasm after recognizing the truth of life. The novels I have read, the stories I have walked through, and the people I have met will eventually turn into starlight, shining on my way forward, illuminating the path under my feet, and warming the corners of my heart. It showed me that the world is big and there are thousands of ways to live life; it also taught me that no matter what situation you are in, you must be gentle, maintain courage, and always love life. And the warmth and strength gained from the novel will always be with me, as I walk slowly and live well in real life.

The two of them are very young people, and they can feel the loneliness of living in a foreign land. If they were surrounded by a lot of relatives and friends, they probably wouldn't feel anything at all. Generally speaking, male and female pigs are still normal people, but the seventh lady and the city lord in "The Seventh Lady" do not feel like normal people.

No, don't smile so treacherously

There is a child sit by the window He looked at the various events outside the window boredly, and seemed to feel a little lonely. He slowly blew a bamboo leaf Tell me quietly - I also want to play with the people in my class But They can't stand the passage that slips through my hands. I asked him strangely, why? He didn't answer It's just that the untuned music is played particularly movingly... So who are you? I faced the vast night in the sky, the vague songs, and the people I didn't know... It turns out You are the years...

Not bad, I like this tone

Second child Time is the best Xiao Gu The past is just the past after all, laugh...

Laugh, it's over. The hero of this story finally came to a complete end this morning. The boat passed through the water without leaving a trace. All relationships or enmities will be settled over time. Those who graduated, those who returned to their country, returned to their country... Finally, everything is just in the past perfect tense...

Hoof lead... Laugh It is indeed a sheep...

It turns out there are some here too, so I'll just leave a hoof print

Laugh Even I don't know how to start Claims to be slow to warm up (laughs, in fact, it has never been hot)