Life is too short, but it's too late to understand.
At middle age, one truly understands that, in reality, encounters are without right or wrong, irrelevant to early or late. Each encounter is a crucial experience; every courtship is a beautiful surprise; each experience is a foreshadowing of growth; every journey through mountains and rivers is a predetermined necessity. A life of one lifetime doesn't seek depth, but seeks simplicity; don't let others praise your colors, just let the fresh air linger in the world. A solitary shadow wanders through a winding path, intoxicated by the twilight, and with you, we share endless sorrows for ten thousand years.
There is a cliff, and one knows nothing of it. Traveling across the sea and sky, one encounters countless strangers; gazing at mountains and rivers, one doesn't find only thorns; a short life always has a few precious and brilliant moments that make our fleeting existence so valuable and extraordinary. Dewdrops on leaves can reflect sunlight; seashells on the beach can blow the horn of life; wild grasses growing in crevices can demonstrate stubbornness and unwavering determination.
We once thought that people grow slowly, but later realized that people grow in an instant; we also thought that people grow old gradually, but later realized that people age in an instant. 'Life is like a jumping fish in your hand – you want to hold it, but you also dislike the stench.'
Life is like a maze, half a lifetime searching for the entrance, the other half searching for the exit. People are always like this – they only understand after experiencing them, and once they understand, they are no longer young. Life is too short, and it's too late to understand. A journey through mountains and rivers, a sheet of paper of years, a moment in time. So many stories in the world are given to the flow of water, and so many passersby are given to the fleeting of light. The vast sky and the bustling world, we only have one lifetime, enough for just one bet, the only chip we hold, when it begins, it's the ending of the play. We bet on happiness, but who can guarantee our win or loss?
Life is just a process, it happens and ends just like that; it cannot be grasped, and it doesn't need to be. Born here and grown here, not climbing or comparing, perhaps this is a kind of happiness. From birth to departure, we all walk our own quiet lives? Walking and walking, who isn't a 'deep philosopher' in the end?
Time does not spare anyone, but it also teaches us to grow; life is too fleeting, and in the hurried wind of late arrival, we learn to precipitate. Morning flowers and evening memories, a cup of wine, along the way, dust and frost on the temples. Passing through the years, long wind and vast expanse, the west wind rolls up, and finally, we return to our own hearts. The desires in our hearts may one day be fulfilled, or they may be vast and desolate, or they may be regretful, but all are met with the kindness of time.
Life's road is long, some roads look close but are actually far; as long as you don't give up, you can reach your destination. Like some people who seem far away but are actually close, as long as you live, you can meet them. Time flows, time flies like a rushing river, whether it's the years of unrestrained passion, or whether it's the ability to deal with people and things calmly and calmly, our demeanor in dealing with people has its own reflection. We once thought that meeting the right person at the right time is a lifetime of happiness, and meeting the wrong person at the right time is a heartache; meeting the right person at the wrong time is barren; and meeting the wrong person at the wrong time is a sigh.
