You are lofty and have no place for sand in your eyes, and you use your own talents to prove that her beauty and seduction is just a kind of stupidity. You choose to pay tribute in your own way, you choose to speak in your own way, and you choose to love someone in your own way. In the end, the line was drawn, and a fence was placed around him, and even the flowers used for decoration had self-defense and defensive thorns.
You don't know, a good and wise wife in your eyes is nothing but cold rice in your brother's eyes, only embarrassing and unattractive. Men don't think about equality, they only see pleasure, and you, as a victim of this inequality, a rebel, to give them morality is a foolish thing to them.
You widened your eyes and leaned forward excitedly. You were most afraid of being a flawed person, but being accused by your younger brother of being as ugly and despicable as poetry. You lash out because you are hurt or angry, and that anger is a defense against the world. If forbearance is a kind of high emotional intelligence, how fake this world would be. Gifted women, full of thoughts, emotions and fantasies, but poor, lonely and depressed, it is really hard to see things clearly through vague tears, he said. Finally, over time, the unhealthy misery that feeds on you can make yourself gloomy, withered, and distorted.
You use virtue to deny everything that is immoral, and your brother uses the cruelty of life to tell you that life is uneven and flawed.
We are not saints, but is this the reason why we should do whatever we want? Is lowering the standard an excuse for all evil or maintaining a high standard is just the last refuge when it can't be tolerated? In this world, it's hard to be a clean person, and even harder to be a clean person.
If passion is removed, is a poet still a poet?
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