With people passing by, what past is time; that what is never past is still time. Time flies towards future, which also stays in the memory.
To give up is in some way, to hold; while to hold is sometimes not being held.
All things deserve nothing, nothing deserves anything.
It is quiet but subtle, as the wind breezing, as the water flowing.
Truth tells.
Dusk is the beautiful scenery belongs to others. For me, with my eyes wet in the sentimental May, I can only hold a wish.
Lonesome is a word too sad as to be even brilliant.
I was born from lonesome and will wither in lonesome. I become beautiful with lonesome, and will age by lonesome. It is my destiny that I cannot avoid my lonesome.