1、I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
2、No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won‘t make you cry.
3、The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can‘t have them.
4、Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
5、To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.
6、Don‘t waste your time on a man/woman, who isn‘t willing to waste their time on you.
双城记（《The tale of two cities》）是我最喜欢的外国小说之一。第一章第一段“时代”（The period）：It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of increlity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so. far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. 那是最美好的时代，那是最糟糕的时代；那是智慧的年头，那是愚昧的年头；那是信仰的时期，那是怀疑的时期；那是光明的季节，那是黑暗的季节；那是希望的春天，那是失望的冬天；我们全都在直奔天堂，我们全都在直奔相反的方向--简而言之，那时跟现在非常相象，某些最喧嚣的权威坚持要用形容词的最高级来形容它。说它好，是最高级的；说它不好，也是最高级的。
They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man"s face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic.
One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe--a woman--Had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given an utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these:
`I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people" rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, graally making expiation for itself and wearing out.
`I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years" time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.
`I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other"s soul, than I was in the souls of both.
`I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day"s disfigurement--and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
`It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of increlity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way . . .
这是最好的时代，这是最坏的时代，是智慧的时代，这是愚蠢的时代，这是时代的信仰，这是划时代的怀疑，这是光明的季节，它是黑暗的季节，这是春天的希望，这是绝望的冬天，我们都摆在我们面前，我们没有任何关系摆在我们面前，我们都将直接向天堂，我们都将直接的其他方式。 。 。
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imagin-ings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this.
The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a night-cap than in it, scrawled upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees—blood.