每个人都有其注定的归属,只不过每个人走过的路不同。
生的衰老,随着岁月逐渐变得年轻,弱小,直至死去。
Kind Keeper of my weak decaying age,
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.
Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment.
And these grey locks, the pursuants of death,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
世事本无常,神父让本杰明站了起来,摆脱轮椅的束缚,以主的名义,但神父却被收去天堂。
白云,好多的白云。飞机两万英尺的高度,想其那首牛仔的歌,