、　　人不能不长大，长大就像是赶路，一路风景常换常新。

　　28、对前途要看得乐记得有人说，通往心脏的血脉是在无名指上，你知道我多想在今生，倾尽所有，牢牢地栓住你的无名指啊!

　　37、时间过了，爱情淡了，相爱的人也就散了。如果缘尽也硬要牵扯，原本的美好就会变成种束缚，变成个你我都困在其中的牢笼。我会无法呼吸，你舍得看到我不自由吗?

　　38、云中有风，风中有我，我能有什么? 云对风说，风对我说，我能对谁说?

　　39、当窗外的风雨来了，我们有房屋，当心中的风雨来了呢?

　　40、如果没有云，天空会不会寂寞?如果没有天空，云到哪里停泊?

　　41、钢琴的爱人是手，泪的爱人是喜，爱人的爱人是一辈子，你的爱人是我。

　　42、人生有无限的可能。

　　43、我不在这里，请不要在我的坟边哭泣，因为我没有睡去。

　　我是扬起千千遍遍的风，我是雪地里闪闪的白光，我是拂照在田野里的太阳，我是夜空里的星星……
He found her in her bower — a light, turreted chamber on the mansion’s eastern side, with windows that looked out upon that lovely sheet of water and the wooded slopes beyond. She was sitting with a book in her lap in the deep of that tall window when he entered, preceded and announced by Sally Pentreath, who, now her tire-woman, had once been her nurse.

She rose with a little exclamation of gladness when he appeared under the lintel — scarce high enough to admit him without stooping — and stood regarding him across the room with brightened eyes and flushing cheeks.

What need is there to describe her? In the blaze of notoriety into which she was anon to be thrust by Sir Oliver Tressilian there was scarce a poet in England who did not sing the grace and loveliness of Rosamund Godolphin, and in all conscience enough of those fragments have survived. Like her brother she was tawny headed and she was divinely tall, though as yet her figure in its girlishness was almost too slender for her height.

“I had not looked for you so early. . . . ” she was beginning, when she observed that his countenance was oddly stern. “Why . . . what has happened?” she cried, her intuitions clamouring loudly of some mischance.