You can't know the joy of freedom, and it's worth the danger, pain, and even life in exchange. To be free, to feel that all the minds around you are free, even the shameless ones, is an indescribable joy. It is as if your soul is swimming in the boundless space, so that the soul cannot live elsewhere.
foreign:
Balzac: "Beautiful", "Usur Miroi", "Old Man"
Victor Hugo: "Notre Dame de Paris"
Stendhal: "Red and Black"
Gogol: "Dead Souls"
Dostoevsky: "Crime and Punishment"
Flaubert: Madame Bovary
Alexandre Dumas: The Count of Monte Cristo
Romain Rolland: "John Christopher"
Kipling: Unmentioned works
domestic:
Cao Xueqin: "A Dream of Red Mansions"
Lu Xun: The True Story of Ah Q
in addition:
This scene reminds me of Shakespeare's "As You Like It"
Love is nothing but madness; I say to you, a man who has love should treat him like a lunatic, shut him up in a dark room and beat him. So why don't they use this punishment to heal love? Because that kind of madness is very common, even the man with the whip is in love.
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