Kierkegur, Kafka, and the short and one-eyed Sartre, their words touch the emptiness and desolate hearts of modern people, but perhaps their words are not comparable to a poem by Shelley: The sun pats the earth, the moonlight kisses the sea-all these kisses are worth a lot, if you, won't you come and kiss me?
The Hollywood movie "Mr. Cat Shit" may be an upgraded version of their story. Mr. Catshit has written dozens of novels about love and has countless fans, but in real life, he is very annoying-in fact, he is deliberately annoying because he is afraid of love. But finally, his kind heart was seen by the heroine, and he reaped love. True love itself is divine love.
Krishnamurti, Kafka, and Sartre are all thinkers I admire. Write about their understanding, there must be my projection. You see, I'm not handsome, and I have problems with my body. Fortunately, I'm still tall, but my family is very poor, and I've talked about love. At this time, use Rumi's poems to comfort yourself: You are crying, you say you burned yourself. But have you ever thought, who is not smoky?
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