Camus
Every wall is a door.
The important thing is not to cure the disease, but to coexist with it.
The more meaningless life is, the more worthwhile it is.
In the struggle with difficulties, people sometimes have to show their true colors.
I want to know whether people can work and create without hesitation after accepting a life without hesitation, and what is the road to these freedoms.
His contempt for God, hatred for death and passion for life made him suffer this unspeakable torture: he tried his best but achieved nothing. This is the price to pay for loving this land.
Sisyphus, the proletarian of God, is helpless and rebellious. He knows how deep and wide his misery is: this is what he thought when he went down the mountain. The insight that caused his pain also completed his victory. There is no destiny that can't be overcome by contempt.
-Camus
Some people think that doing something after waking up every day is living; Some people think that life is living from body to spirit; Others believe that setting a goal and achieving something is life. In my opinion, the opposite of expression is life. The masters in Tuscany said that to live is to spend three times as much energy to prove stillness and flame in silence.
This matter involves many things, including stories, paintings, colors and so on. Among them, I think the most important thing is truth, which is what keeps everything going. I want to get wonderful teaching from it. Only a painter can make me no longer "hungry". Painters can work in those fleeting materials and turn themselves into physical novelists. What they want to express will be expressed by an action, which is a powerful expression, not those smiles or helplessness. At the cost of hope, they banished the curse of the spirit from those faces that were fixed here with lines forever. It is eternal because of indifference, but the body only knows the impulse of blood, not hope. Just like the relaxed posture of Christ crucified and cruel executioner in Jesus' picture, the lessons brought by this painting can't jump out of the frame, and the pain is fruitless. So, what can move people who have no tomorrow? Have no hope for the future and are indifferent to everything. This is probably what theologians call hell. However, even in hell, it is only the body that suffers. The so-called painting containing prophecy does not exist, and the reason why people seek hope does not exist in art galleries.
Yes, the spirit is immortal, and the soul is immortal. Many wise people are troubled by it, because when they are dying, they reject their own bodies. This is their only truth, but they all know in their hearts that this truth is doomed to rot, and the dignity and bitterness of their bodies are something they dare not face. Poetry is a spiritual thing, and smart people prefer it. Maybe some people think I'm just playing with words, but I'm actually just contributing the highest level of poetry under the guidance of truth. I think they can figure it out: it is a sober resistance, a painter's resistance to presenting the scenery to those suffering people, and a god who is constantly mentioned in the glory and light of our land.
Sometimes, a face will show a kind of sublimity, just like the mineral that looks like a landscape, because it is indifferent and indifferent. For example, those Spanish farmers are very much like olive trees growing on the same land as them. Tuscany has given us the only teaching, that is, to have passion, to have the spirit of sacrifice, and to believe in the coexistence of asceticism and pleasure. People are closely related to this land, and human characteristics are established in love and pain. We can't confirm much sincerity, but at least I can confirm that when night falls and darkness covers Florence, there is a great sadness revealed from vines and olive trees hidden in the shadows. However, it is more beautiful because of sadness. I'm sitting on the train, walking in the dark, and something on me is quietly released, so can I think that sadness can also be called happiness?
Yes, this kind of teaching is also described in Italian Scenery, but its elegance is not direct, because happiness is not worthy of the name and is easy to miss. But Italy is better than anywhere else. It hides its own truth and chooses to forget. It is precisely because of it that it completely provides an experience and deepens it. But this is not really elegant, because it is still superficial, so why don't we agree with a perceptual beauty at a certain moment? For me who came here and stayed because of a preferential ticket, although I was deprived of the pleasure of travelers, I didn't feel compelled here, perhaps because I had enough patience to like and understand my first night here. That night, I was hungry and tired and came to Pisa. Dozens of loudspeakers are playing lyric songs to young people. The sound was deafening. I stood in the street of the station and suddenly understood what I was waiting for. I think there will be a strange moment in this surging life.
Late at night, the lights in the noisy cafe went out. The city suddenly became quiet, and I went through the dark narrow alley to the center of the city. Arnault was pale gold in the dark, and there was no one around. At this time, pizza seems to have become a strange and silent set composed of water and stones. "It's such a night, Jessica!" The voice of Shakespeare's lover appeared on this unique stage. I think we should listen to our dreams, because they also listen to us. In this silent night in Italy, I have deeply felt the kind of inner singing that people come here to look for. I walked briskly to Jessica with my love, and my voice seemed to overlap with Lorenzo's. In fact, the impulse of love has already surpassed Jessica. She is just an excuse. Here, there is no lover immersed in misfortune and sadness. You know, death is the most useless in love. People must live and don't care about their roses. Lorenzo alive will naturally not lose to Romeo.
So, how can you not dance on such a vivid love day? In the afternoon, you can take a nap on the lawn of Domo Park, drink the lukewarm but still flowing water in the city fountain, and see the smiling woman again. She has a long nose and her mouth is proudly upturned. I think it can be understood that she is ready for that higher emotion. The mysterious angel of Dionysus was attracted by this candlelight parade all the way, and people's happiness reached its peak. Their bodies began to have consciousness, and it flowed with black blood, becoming able to communicate with the sacred and mysterious angels. I melted into the great enthusiasm of Italy and forgot myself. What I want is to realize this teaching and help us get rid of history. We appreciate beauty, which includes body and moment. How can we not seize this long-awaited happiness? Even if we are ecstatic, we will die.
Materialism that people believe in is actually not the most disgusting. It takes those lifeless views as a living reality. We have a strong attachment and concern for those things that are doomed to death. This materialism wants to get rid of them with the myth of poverty. At the beginning, I was in a monastery in Florence, reading the words on the tombstone in the falling rain, and there was a gentle and honest man; One is a shrewd businessman; There is a young woman who is a moral model; There is also a young girl who has been placed high hopes by her relatives. But I'm not moved by these. All the people here accepted their obligations and obeyed death. Nowadays, monasteries are full of children. They are playing and jumping goats happily on the slate. Night soon fell and I sat on the ground with my back to the colonnade. A passing priest saw me and nodded at me with a smile. The organ of the church makes a deep and long sound, and the warm colors painted in the church sometimes appear after the children cry. I leaned against the colonnade alone, as if someone had grabbed my throat and shouted out his faith like the last sentence. Everything about me is resisting this similar obedience, and the inscription "must" says. However, no, my resistance is justified. This preoccupied but indifferent happiness is like a pilgrim on the earth. I think I should follow its footsteps closely. As for the rest, I will try my best to refuse, but the slate tells me that it is futile, because life is "the happiness of pilgrims in this land." But today, I can feel useless and dress me, but I can't see it. At the same time, it is stripping away from me what I resist.
Actually, that's not what I want to say. What I want to do more is to draw a real outline. I feel its existence from my resistance, but it is actually just an extension. This truth comes from the evening rose of the New Santa Maria Monastery and the women of Florence on that happy weekend morning.
On such a weekend, flowers are blooming in the corner of the church, and the petals are hung with morning dew, which looks more and more charming. I found the truth and the compensation they gave me. They are generous, just like those women. The difference between wishing for one enrichment and coveting another enrichment is not obvious, as long as you have the same pure heart.
People don't often feel a pure heart, but at this time, his responsibility tells him that such a pure thing can be called truth, even if it is blasphemous in the eyes of others, as I thought on this day: I spent the morning in a monastery in Fesso, which was full of the smell of laurel. There is a small yard full of red flowers, and many black and yellow bees are working hard. I stayed here for a long time, bathed in the gentle sunshine. In the corner of the yard, there is a small green watering can. Before I came to this yard, I visited the monks' rooms, and their little tables were decorated with skeletons. Today, this small garden is a testimony to their inspiration.