Current location - Quotes Website - Famous sayings - In the article "Hurry", I would like to borrow this famous saying to remind myself of the passage of time in a hurry.
In the article "Hurry", I would like to borrow this famous saying to remind myself of the passage of time in a hurry.

The swallows have gone, but there will be a time when they come back; the willows have withered, but there is a time when they will be green again; the peach blossoms have faded, but there will be a time when they bloom again. But tell me, wise one, why are our days gone forever? ——Someone stole them: who is that? Where is it hidden? It's just that they escaped on their own: where are they now?

I don’t know how many days they gave me; but my hands are becoming increasingly empty. Counting silently, more than eight thousand days have slipped by my hands; just like drops of water on a needle's tip dripping into the ocean, my days have been dripping into the flow of time, without sound or shadow. I couldn't help but feel dizzy and burst into tears.

Whatever goes is gone, and what comes comes keeps coming; how hurried is it in between? When I got up in the morning, two or three slanting sun beams came into the hut. The sun has legs, and it moves on gently and quietly; I also spin along with it aimlessly. Thus - when I wash my hands, the days pass by the sink; when I eat, the days pass by the rice bowl; when I am silent, the days pass by before my gazeful eyes. I can feel his haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but he keeps flowing past my withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he will stride over my body and fly past my feet in his agile way. Went. When I open my eyes and see the sun again, another day has slipped away. I hid my face and sighed. But the shadow of the new days began to flash through the sigh again.

What can I do in this world of thousands of households in the days when I am running away like flying away? There is only wandering, nothing but hurrying; in the rush of more than eight thousand days, what is left but wandering? The past days are like light smoke, blown away by the breeze, like mist, evaporated by the early sun; what traces do I leave behind? Have I ever left traces like gossamers? I came to this world naked, will I go back naked in a blink of an eye? But I can't get over it, why do I have to go through this life in vain?

You are smart, tell me, why are our days gone forever?

What is your problem?

Choose for yourself! come on! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !