Inspirational speech: life experience

Life is always ahead of us, walking slowly. A long journey, a lot of sentiment.

The wind, teasing the existence of green, blowing our clothes and slipping over our forehead.

There, it is the freedom it has.

We are stunned or silent, heroic or depressed. They are just continuing and continuing our unique journey.

Life has joy and pain.

Life is full of flavors and tastes.

Whether you want to engrave or want to forget, everything in the past is still the truth of the past, the truth of the present.

There are crying and laughing.

The tragicomedy of life is not controlled by us. All of us are just the dramas in the eyes of God. Length, speed. Everything, like the wind blowing over the water, or soft or embarrassing. Dialogue, like a nightmare, sings the dawn, disturbs the dusk, and is immersed in the moonlight. Everything, but it is.

If you cry, when the soul is inescapable, there is no sustenance.

Tears slipped and my heart sank.

The wild goose called, the exile of the herringbone, in the bloody sun in autumn, looking for the way home.

Where is the road?

There is no limit to your heart.

The wings of life carry too much hope, and the incompleteness of life is destined to be too much despair.

A residual wing rotates in the wind, is it a weak wandering or an unintentional rebellion?

The distant horizon is buried with dust behind it?

If you laugh, it is the heart that has not yet died, not yet indulged.

The flames jump and burn passion.

The call in the spring breeze is the charm of the flower, and it is indulged in the real possession of the moon's gentle water.

Treat the wine as a song.

Life geometry?

The gaze after the slight intoxication is intertwined with love and affection, and the arrogance with the wind whispers the voice of heaven.

At this time, there are tears. Tears into my heart.

The tears of life condense the waiting of the predecessors, and reflect the face of this life in the smile of the heart.

Is life like a dream or a dream like a life?

Zhuang Zhouhua Butterfly or Butterfly Benzhuang Week?

That transcendentality is the ultimate in the legend or the perfection in imagination, I don’t know, and I don’t know.

In the lookout after each waking up, I have seen the heart of the night, but I have seen the dawn that dawned after the darkness?

And the feeling of suffocation, is the warmth of dreams or the continuation of nightmares?

In the darkness of the answer, we continue to live a real life.

Life, this is like a piece of paper.

Blank and simple.

We used our own experience and left a mottled brand.

The redness of the blood, the transparency of the tears, the ash of the dust, the hustle of the back, the memory of the memory, and the reincarnation of the spring, summer, autumn and winter, let our experience end up in that colorful life. Tears can't wash away sadness, and sighs won't fade. Our life experience is a tragicomedy of our own director. At the moment of the end, we find that the audience has already gone, we are only true and lonely.

Close your eyes.

Listening to the voice of life silently.

Ticking the clock, as we thumped the heartbeat, low and slow.

The distant wind brings a faint scent.

Close, close your eyes and approach your heart.

At the end of the road, step out.

Hell or heaven is no longer important.

All hearts are only willing to sink in life.