There is a loquat tree in the courtyard. My wife planted it the year she died. Now it is as tall as a canopy.

When you are proud, you must find a way out, and then you will not die in happiness; when you are frustrated, you must find a way out, and then you can live in sorrow.

On the night of March 5th, the bright moon is half-walled, the osmanthus shadows are mottled, the wind moves the shadows, and the mountains are lovely.