He described it as if he were there, and it was evident that he saw it vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life.

`I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the soldiers and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road, that, where any spectacle is well worth looking at), and at first, as they approach, I see no more than that they are six soldiers with a tall man bound, and that they are almost black to my sight--except on the side of the sun going to bed where they have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that their long shadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite side of the road, and are on the hill above it, and are like the shadows of giants. Also, I see that they are covered with dust, and that the dust moves with them as they come, tramp, tramp! But when they advance quite near to me, I recognise the tall man, and he recognises me. Ah, but he would be well content to precipitate himself over the hillside once again, as on the evening when he and I first encountered, close to the same spot!'

He described it as if he were there, and it was evident that he saw it vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life.

`I do not show the soldiers that I recognise the tall man; he does not show the soldiers that he recognises me; we do it, and we know it, with our eyes. ``Come on!'' says the chief of that company, pointing to the village, ``bring him fast to his tomb!'' and they bring him faster. I follow. His arms are swelled because of being bound so tight, his wooden shoes are large and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, and consequently slow, they drive him with their guns--like this!'

He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward by the butt-ends of muskets.

`As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls. They laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and covered with dust, but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh again. They bring him into the village; all the village runs to look; they take him past the mill, and up to the prison; all the village sees the prison gate open in the darkness of the night, and swallow him--like this!'

With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with his elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him.

Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then?

`By his tall figure,' said the mender of roads, softly, and with his finger at his nose. `When Monsieur the Marquis demands that evening,, ``Say, what is he like?'' I make response, ``Tall as a spectre.'''

`You should have said, short as a dwarf,' returned Jacques Two.

`But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished, neither did he confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do not offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates me with his finger, standing near our little fountain, and says, ``To me! Bring that rascal!'' My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing.'

`He is right there, Jacques,' murmured Defarge, to him who had interrupted. `Go on!'

`Good!' said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery. `The tall man is lost, and he is sought--how many months? Nine, ten, eleven?'

`No matter, the number,' said Defarge. `He is well hidden, but at last he is unluckily found. Go on!'

`I am again at work upon the hillside, and the sun is again about to go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down in the village below, where it is already dark, when I raise my eyes, and see coming over the hill six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man with his arms bound--tied to his sides--like this!'

With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with his elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him.

`Never,' answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular.

`Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.'

Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.

No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wail.

Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice:

`Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four.

He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!

The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with it, and said, `Where shall I commence, monsieur?'

`Commence,' was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply, `at the commencement.'

`I saw him then, messieurs,' began the mender of roads, a year ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hanging by the chain--like this.'

Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance; in which he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeing that it had been the infallible resource and indispensable entertainment of his village during a whole year.

Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man before?

`Never,' answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular.

`Yes, thank you.'

Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature of his, until midday. It was high noontide, when two dusty men passed through his streets and under his swinging lamps: of whom, one was Monsieur Defarge: the other a mender of roads in a blue cap. All adust and athirst, the two entered the wine-shop. Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast of Saint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, which stirred and flickered in flames of faces at most doors and windows. Yet, no one had followed them, and no man spoke when they entered the wine-shop, though the eyes of every man there were turned upon them.

`Good-day, gentlemen!' said Monsieur Defarge.

It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It elicited an answering chorus of `Good-day!'

`It is bad weather, gentlemen,' said Defarge, shaking his head. Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and went out.

`My wife,' said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: `I have travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads, called Jacques. I met him--by accident--a day an half's journey Out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!'

A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine before the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue cap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge's counter. A third man got up and went out.

Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine--but, he took less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was no rarity--and stood waiting until the countryman had made his breakfast. He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work.

`Have you finished your repast, friend?' he asked, in due season.

`Yes, thank you.'

Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company

Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before lie answered, `How should I know?'

`I thought you knowed everything, father,' said the artless boy.

`Hem! Well,' returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and lifting off his hat to give his spikes free play, `he's a tradesman.'

`What`s his goods, father?' asked the brisk Young Jerry.

`His goods,' said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, is a branch of Scientific goods.'

`Persons' bodies, ain't it, father?' asked the lively boy.

`I believe it is something of that sort,' said Mr. Cruncher.

`Oh, father, I should so like to be a Resurrection--man when I `m quite growed up!'

Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his head in a dubious and moral way. `It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop your talents, and never to say no more than you can help to nobody, and there's no telling at the present time what you may not come to be fit for.' As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few yards in advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr. Cruncher added to himself: `Jerry, you honest tradesman, there's hopes wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for his mother!

CHAPTER XV

Knitting

THERE had been earlier drinking than usual in the wine shop of Monsieur Defarge. As early as six o'clock in the morning, sallow faces peeping through its barred windows had descried other faces within, bending over measures of wine. Monsieur Defarge sold a very thin wine at the best of times, but it would seem to have been an unusually thin wine that he sold at this time. A sour wine, moreover, or a souring, for its influence on the mood of those who drank it was to make them gloomy. No vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of the pressed grape of monsieur Defarge: but, a smouldering fire that burnt in the dark, lay hidden in the dregs of it.

This had been the third morning in succession, on which there had been early drinking at the wine-shop of Monsieur Defarge. It had begun on Monday, and here was Wednesday come. There had been more of early brooding than drinking; for, many men had listened and whispered and slunk about there from the time of the opening of the door, who could not ave laid a Piece of money on the counter to save their souls. These were to the full as interested in the place, however, as if they could have commanded whole barrels of wine; and they glided from seat to seat, and from corner to corner, swallowing talk in lieu of drink, with greedy looks.

Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company, the master of the wine-shop was not visible. He was not missed; for, nobody who crossed the threshold looked for him, nobody asked for him, nobody wondered to see only Madame Defarge in her seat, presiding over the distribution of wine, with a bowl of battered small coins before her, as much defaced and beaten out of their original impress as the small coinage of humanity from whose ragged pockets they had come.

A suspended interest and a prevalent absence of mind, were perhaps observed by the spies who looked in at the wine-shop, as they looked in at every place, high and low, from the king's palace to the criminal's gaol. Games at cards languished, players at dominoes musingly built towers with them, drinkers drew figures on the tables with spilt drops of wine, Madame Defarge herself picked out the pattern on her sleeve with her toothpick, and saw and heard something inaudible and invisible a long way off.

`I hope you care to live?'

Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before him was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed, and in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt, defiance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another; so did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands and figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was prematurely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this spectre:

`Buried how long?'

The answer was always the same: `Almost eighteen years.'

`You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?'

`Long ago.'

`You know that you are recalled to life?'

`They tell me so.

`I hope you care to live?'

`I can't say.'

`Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see he''

The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes the broken reply was, `Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon.' Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was `Take me to her.' Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it was, `I don't know her. I don't understand.'

The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that he might have been sitting for his portrait.

Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waistcoat, as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson's Bank. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.

`If so be as you're quick, sir.'

The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye On the horseman, answered curtly, `Sir.'

`There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown to drink. I may read this?'

`If so be as you're quick, sir.'

He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read--first to himself and then aloud: `"Wait at Door for Mam'selle." It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED TO LIFE.'

Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in the mail. As the bank passenger--with an arm drawn through the leathern strap, which did what lay in it to keep him from pounding against the next passenger, and driving him into his comer, whenever the coach got a special jolt--nodded in his place, with half-shut eyes, the little coach-windows, and the coach-lamp dimly gleaming through them, and the bulky bundle of opposite passenger, became the bank, and did a great stroke of business. The rattle of the harness was the chink of money, and more drafts were honoured in five minutes than even Tellson's, with all its foreign and home connexion, ever paid in thrice the time. Then the strong-rooms underground, at Tellson's, with such of their valuable stores and secrets as were known to the passenger (and it was not a little that he knew about them), opened before him, and he went in among them with the great keys and the feebly-burning candle, and found them safe, and strong, and sound, and still, just as he had last seen them.

But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach (in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was always with him, there was another current of impression that never ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one out of a grave.

The Period

France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to comedown and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses old some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, be spattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, for as much as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair laces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the roads that lay before them.

The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the journey.

`Wo-ho!' said the coachman. `So, then One more pull and you're at the top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to it--Joe!'

`Halloa' the guard replied.

`

Prince Andrey sighed and made no reply.

“What is it, what’s the matter?” asked the two princesses on seeing Prince Andrey, and catching a momentary glimpse of the figure of the old man in his white dressing-gown, wearing his spectacles and no wig, and shouting in a wrathful voice.

Prince Andrey sighed and made no reply.

“Now, then,” he said, turning to his wife, and that “now then” sounded like a cold sneer, as though he had said, “Now, go through your little performance.”

“Andrey? Already!” said the little princess, turning pale and looking with dismay at her husband. He embraced her. She shrieked and fell swooning on his shoulder.

He cautiously withdrew the shoulder, on which she was lying, glanced into her face and carefully laid her in a low chair.

“Good-bye, Masha,” he said gently-to his sister, and they kissed one another’s hands, then with rapid steps he walked out of the room.

The little princess lay in the arm-chair; Mademoiselle Bourienne rubbed her temples. Princess Marya, supporting her sister-in-law, still gazed with her fine eyes full of tears at the door by which Prince Andrey had gone, and she made the sign of the cross at it. From the study she heard like pistol shots the repeated and angry sounds of the old man blowing his nose. Just after Prince Andrey had gone, the door of the study was flung open, and the stern figure of the old man in his white dressing-gown peeped out.

“Gone? Well, and a good thing too!” he said, looking furiously at the fainting princess. He shook his head reproachfully and slammed the door.

“I will do all that, father,” he said.

“I am sure to die before you. See, here are my notes, to be given to the Emperor after my death. Now here, see, is a bank note and a letter: this is a prize for any one who writes a history of Suvorov’s wars. Send it to the academy. Here are my remarks, read them after I am gone for your own sake; you will find them profitable.”

Andrey did not tell his father that he probably had many years before him. He knew there was no need to say that.

“I will do all that, father,” he said.

“Well, now, good-bye!” He gave his son his hand to kiss and embraced him. “Remember one thing, Prince Andrey, if you are killed, it will be a grief to me in my old age…” He paused abruptly, and all at once in a shrill voice went on: “But if I learn that you have not behaved like the son of Nikolay Bolkonsky, I shall be … ashamed,” he shrilled.

“You needn’t have said that to me, father,” said his son, smiling.

The old man did not speak.

“There’s another thing I wanted to ask you,” went on Prince Andrey; “if I’m killed, and if I have a son, don’t let him slip out of your hands, as I said to you yesterday; let him grow up with you…please.”

“Not give him up to your wife?” said the old man, and he laughed.

They stood mutually facing each other. The old man’s sharp eyes were fixed on his son’s eyes. A quiver passed over the lower part of the old prince’s face.

“We have said good-bye…go along!” he said suddenly. “Go along!” he cried in a loud and wrathful voice, opening the study door.

The weeds beside the fish pond, he and I lay on the stone steps, an intimate taste of his body

The weeds beside the fish pond, he and I lay on the stone steps, an intimate taste of his body, he looked very clean and very sunny. Friend left, night fell, we are just quietly side by side lying silence. Under cover of night, I felt his head quietly near, he gently kissed my lips, his taste, surrounding around me really want to indulge it, always.
His bike carrying me to his house to easily bypass the other bike, fast and stable in the back seat, I gently leaning on him, without any feeling of unease.
I hid quietly out of the window to see his mother chopping vegetables, and his mother face the vicissitudes of wrinkles, typical of rural women. His brother and sister-in-law, brothers and sisters, very warm and entertained me. We sat together to eat, bustling, eats dinner with slapstick, totally unaware of the time. Until 5:00 at dawn, he took me back to school.
A friend told me that last night night out ah. Remember this, how do, how to explain it to the teacher and family.
I do not know when to wake up and find the original dream, long to sigh, and finally do not have the brains to think last night in the end what did. Only his name, but how can not remember. Just remember his appearance,
I do not know, someday, I will not encounter a person, his appearance, made ​​me feel very familiar, seems like the past encountered, and then one day, when I read his diary, found that this person had appeared in my dreams.

A sky full of willows, stirring from the past scenes.

A sky full of willows, stirring from the past scenes. The white wizard kiss to spring awakes the sleeping in the memory of those love letters.That is doing the job I am very serious in the fifth grade, a quiet self-study class, a pink cotton. Suddenly, came a few small boys whispering, followed by a small piece of mixed boys and girls are missing the lucky. Later, that laughter is like a drop of not accidentally fall into the cups of ink, slowly dissolved and spread to an entire classroom. I saw him, suddenly stood up, upright pestle. His face suffused with Glitter can not flush, hands like holding the heart in general, carefully holding a LMW whole paper. Fuzzy corner of the eye to see that crooked handwriting. Heart inexplicable curiosity but premonition ominous.Sure enough, that class, small head, began to give orders. The air as much as promulgated a divine command. Leadership like tone he said: "Now, welcome Michelle Mary students, the students read a love letter a." Then they changed the tone of a singer to promote the new album, said: "This is Michelle spent two nights to write , exclusive, please look forward to it. "Wie Next, with the kind of very firm and mixed with a little tense and hair slightly vibrato tone, word for word reading. His every word out as if to throw a lot of delicious candy in general, elicit class of laughter. But for me, every word is like a shot hit in the heart. I fight back with an ugly red until face Biede tomato face like a ripe apple, it should be like the fast nipped the. Confrontation with silence.However, it is incomprehensible that little head turned shouting: "Sound is too small, she did not hear wrong, is too far away to go in front of her read his words like a sorghum from the ground an instant burst of strong winds . Then that booing sound like homeopathic and down the red sorghum, any wind blowing. When I saw him in the leg immediately to take the first step, I finally sit still. I went to the front door of the classroom, and intimidation, said: "you comes again, I went downstairs to find a teacher!"In fact, I was feeling very contradictory, even more than they fear teachers and parents to know. Then came the ringing sound broke the quiet of the moment and my embarrassing situation. Open classroom like a pot of boiling water as boiling. I naturally picked up the schoolbag Flying fled home.In fact, how can I not know that he had feelings for me? In fact, how can I be so indifferent?If it is not like me, he would not be hard to learn mathematics, is in order to test, like me, one out. His math test six very representative of math, each got full marks. When I got the papers, I was surprised to find that tightly next to him and my papers. Are bright red 100 points, and like to show off or prove something. He was determined to test out, like me, I later heard that the small head said.If it is not like me, maybe he will not go to my house on Saturday and Sunday secretly to find my brother playing. They do not know, and my brother we two. I just do what to do. Let him deliberately laugh, I do not see a.If it is not like it, he might not go to dinner comes the reckoning I braved the wind and rain. That is a terrible wind and rain days. The wind puzzling. The third class in the morning to see the red flag lazily curled up its bright red body. However, the lesson we have not see the words on the blackboard.The heavenly spirits with black cloth to cover up the sun, and we await the coming of a wonderful magic show. Perhaps the boys in the eyes, like is the deities contest.The teacher announced that the school, so we ran back. The lunacy growled want to swallow the belly. And a small ring through the trees, like the soldiers from being accidentally hit, and suddenly fell to the ground. We are more afraid of holding hands runned like going through a nightmare. That the way to go very, very long. Lonely pedestrian standing half bent, to muzzled walking in the sand. Fortunately, the home of a small ring close to the school, I would temporarily stay in her home.But is in such terrible weather, Michelle bolted home to take my umbrella. When he ran back to school, I was gone. I seem to see him from euphoria to disappointment on his face.Because he knew that my house is the farthest away from the school. Because he knows, every rainy day, I braved the rain ran home. Because my parents busy once sent me over the umbrella.But I still repeat the previous life. Because the little I do not understand do not want to know what love is. Because their parents are busy every day, I just want one papers for a smiling face. I just always are looking forward to the PTA meetings, I just want to let the teacher praised me. I just want to quietly hiding in the crowd enjoy the satisfaction of parents smile. I rarely rarely see them smile. Because we are in a foreign land, may be only a trivial passing in the lives of others.Love letters he has asked the students to me. See when I torrential tears a person hiding in the dark. Looking at the starry sky, any tears flow. In fact, I do not know that a little boy how many times I cried, do not know him to do so in the end have to pay much courage.Was light, such as wind through the jungle. I still have yellowed love letter folded in the illegible diary. Time diary with a charming little lock child. I could not even astringent with a lock, do not give any one opened the door. Because love does not belong to me.Years later, to see this crooked handwriting, I think this does not does not matter to the end of love love.第一封情书 quietly asleep, doing never wake up, but to dream.Gently rocking time Dangzhuo the migrating to another city. I read the high school in this city. High school, big, small is not small. As if I was older, 19-year-old, ignorant of the flowering season.That night the wind was blowing gently from time to time to tidy hair. The breeze of it quite 得理不饶人 of posture, only forced me to quickly fled to the quarters. His memory is sporadic, like the wind, blowing people tangled.People always used to forget the habit.A school personality. He will be wearing cool clothes, and leisurely marching cry rang into the classroom. In the winter wearing a thin blue plaid shirt, he would any body was Joseph in the wind, perhaps he did not really cold.It is in a language class, first came to school practice, Xiao Yao teacher called him, and asked him what his name, he very casually said: "I called Chu Van lovely Chu Van Well, is to explain I am very content. "At this time the female teacher said:" I checked, our class did that name. "he answered just from the name. Then the teacher said: "Chu where, yes, a good name. Dressed, looks ordinary." Next, is the whole class laugh. Like the wind through an apple orchard, strong ulterior motives roads by the wind, cross the collision, with a hint of unwilling, shake a few, talk some frolic. He is thought very personalized.The high school everywhere filled with the thick smell of gunpowder, all busy in the class attend to the toilet. Green in that piece of the lay up, the sun sun sun on the lawn, there is always the voice of the reading endorsement students hold a variety of textbooks, and always came buzzing. If that knowledge to the grass only read it again, the examination in order to pass the same.In that Yuemingxingxi night hear the crickets that can only feebly tweet few times of the night. He, cut through the dead of night. He attracted everyone to put aside the endless practice. Accompanied by a lot of boys to his accompaniment. Even on campus to seats, to star as the light, no one else to jump the hip-hop. God, we screamed. Boys whistling. In that night, he became a small celebrity of the school.He is very aloof. Has always been a loner. The corner of the back of the classroom is his territory. He very self-rain's poster in the back wall. If it is to their own vegetable plot a variety of a dish was to blame.Is that the sky catkins fly Saturday, the empty campus seems most. Because we all go home.That Saturday, because parents are not home, I have gone back. A person, it is boring into the study room, holding a book. Suddenly discovered that he also, I want to leave. But thought, Who is he, what he is, I would have walked. I have this very narcissistic young man, full of hostility. So I sit down, depending on such as air.But he seemed to already know I want to come. Only to hear later in the footsteps getting closer. I am glad he was leaving, he even stopped in front of my footsteps. His letter on the page I opened the book. That one is like a perianth like accidental bee may also wish to intentionally touch, slightly shocked, and made a motion to calm down. He said nothing and left. Only left me with a brush not to go back and a bunch of question marks.That is a pink stationery. That graceful font not from the hands of such a person. I vaguely remember that this is written, "Lily, please allow me to call you from the first day of school, I was your smile captivated you a pair of laughing eyes, give me a warm and hope I never see you stopped smiling, even in my dreams I like you, every morning and every night, allow me to like you ". I can not remember the contents of the back. However, I did not expect him behind the cold even buried feelings, did not think he should be and I declare. Although I love to laugh but I rarely speak and boys. To him, I certainly avoid far.I take possession of a good love letter, as if hidden in a wrong committed.The story is that nothing stars in the night, in that mask on the lawn of a layer of fog that is brewing under the street lights dim too sleepy to open eyes, people sleep the night of the Wine Shop. A word for word, I told him: "I do not like you, more precisely, I hate you, but rest assured, I will not let other people know it." After much talking, I a person is gone, his face did not look. I do not know that he did not turn around, take a look at my back.Perhaps he forgot. Perhaps he remembered. Night cold as ice. That spring night, the flowers did not open, the birds do not bother Ming.In this way, the episode in life gone with the wind, there is no audience and also no dancer.When the power of Genglou a drop drip with a unique time water years has quietly. When a sky full of catkins dancing each year is the same also unbeaten dancing, I opened a courier from afar.My boyfriend and I are the same day or even both life and life's. This year's birthday, we separated the two. Birthday, just a friend of mine told me his story. He spoke when he objects birthday that day happens to be November 11. On the 12th, he just field examinations. But he went to Henan to her birthday is the day to go back the same day. In order to buy her a gift, he spent six hundred dollars, was thinking fast on holiday, stays home money enough to spend. Toothache guilty, and spent three or four hundred. The results made only one meal a day. In order to prevent roommates know, every day and almost noon before starting, so that breakfast on the province. Noon walk out then circle back, pretend to go out to dinner, to stretch into the night to eat a bun.I looked at him so calm talking, like talking to someone else's story, he was not a hero. I asked: "These, she, you know?" He shook his head, why let her know?I just listened quietly, and repeated these words over and over again in my heart. Why let her know?Ah, love is giving, not taking. Love is a person willing to pay for another person. May just want to see each other face is that the expression of surprise.After that, he asked me how he did not accompany me. I smile, said: "No, he was too busy worry about that, he cares about me, he gave me to express it." Then change the subject. In fact, his courier and not to. In fact, I do not know him in the end how much you care, but I believe he must care about me.Later, I received the phone of the courier company. I soon get a courier, to open the Express. In fact, I would also like to see is not a necklace, but that letter he said that the temporary write a love letter at the post office.So I take the opportunity to come up with a love letter to any quarters and sisters fighting for the chance to see the gift. They said, "What is this ah, such a large box on a necklace, no rings or something.", "Is not it a necklace, even a decorated are not ah". I ignore it. Show him to me to write a love letter.Few words, the word is also very poor. See, with each word very carefully written, as it is very hard to love me. He gave me the commitment, is very simple but what I want.I do not know, never in the end how far. Maybe all the people do not know, just like we do not know how long life in the end. Love word, perhaps just one person casually one said, but another person may remember a lifetime. Perhaps accumulate a lot of courage to say, maybe another just absently a. With the precipitation of the time, the so-called oath may be worthless, maybe it will become another reason to wait, waiting for the conviction to support the power of life.Catkins flying in the spring, I was doing always afraid of waking dream, belong to the two of us dream of. Catkins start to fall into, I've stepped on my Sentimental young.Perhaps, each girl will receive a love letter. Perhaps, each girl will encounter waiting for their angel. If you have not met, maybe he is looking for you on the road.When electronic products are popular in the country, the arrogant disregard of the paper. The more love letters, a message or an e-mail. Difficult to see these love letter written with their own calligraphy.In those years, he had been not very concerned about things. Branded in my heart.After all, a girl. One more admirer is not a bad thing. The story is still staged in the memory.Roll wind, Dangzhuo the danced catkins. I dream, the precipitate youth Hedi those love letters thrown. Empty left me alone to review those years, those who love letter.-
 A: infatuation confession of a Zuotai Miss: reject mediocrity reading (147) Comments (1) excerpt (0) Recommend (0) (0) throwing eggs to send flowers to win my heart (0) (0) of Favorite works share License: exclusive authorized Editor: water street formatting recommended work reading anthology Print articleThe Yu Yuan to zero to give up the love from zeroA cat's leave love misunderstandingForget the convention Xiao Ruo character notes - invisible rain soakedFaint fleeting like CC and his storyGrateful to encounter your green years white painParallel lines if the leave is also the right hand Xu Song, the left hand

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Girls and boys came to the coffee shop

Girls and boys came to the coffee shop, day, as usual, hot, and their hearts, but the cold than usual. In the summer of last year, the boy he gets a girl's hand in the sea of ​​books to find the title of the gap for her to buy a pearl milk tea, and download the good songs for her. Heart disturbed girls stand outside the classroom, imagine when she fired off letters to tilt the mouth, or black hair like a waterfall shop down, or lifting of the cauda equina. Her sweet smile, took the boy's tea, the boy said: you will always be my gifted musicians United States, so I can hold you in the palm. She looked up and saw the boy big eyes, smiling. She said: Thank you, school playground see. They took his MP3. Love, my thing is you, your stuff or you. The boys do not understand love, first love, he tasted the sweetness of coexistence, but also to the girls tasted the taste of missing. In the beginning, always boys pay more, the girl is always dependent on the boy. After school, they walk in the sea of ​​being, came to the restaurant with the crowd. The girls always see eat a tacit agreement between the couple, girl sitting on the right side of the boy, in a quiet place, have their own thoughts of dinner. Although the usual meals, this has to taste a taste of love and sharing.Like all couples, the time of their class also go hand in hand to travel in couple. Them with snacks, watching the players run on the playground, with cleaning, hoping to teach classes have done the same table. Unknowingly year later, MP3 changed a lot of the songs, the only constant is common to buy a pearl milk tea every morning. At this college entrance around the corner, every student in the summer and hot struggle, after the evening study hall, classrooms are still flashing candle, started doing death-defying flying locomotive. They are often reluctant to go the other students to learn or wash in the playground to listen to each other's anecdotes. Into the review stage, joined the team. They meet in the coffee shop, the girl said: In order to reject a mediocre life, we do not meet. After the entrance, to meet here. The boy nodded. Until the end of the college entrance examination, they have three months did not meet, fill out a volunteer after another came to the cafe. A went to Guangzhou, one remained in Shanxi. Through the college entrance examination, they will know and love the waves of the only living part of the ocean, wider sky outside, outside, more suited to their destination. Each other and then nostalgia can only be as good memories. Also only sigh. Now know, had refused a life of mediocrity, may mean that this life can not be met.2Girls and boys came to the cafe. Days, as usual, hot, their usual cold. At this point, the girl is a college student, the boy is already a very famous star. They encounter on a cold winter. The girl's home in good condition, with his monthly scholarship collar enough personal expenses. At this point the boy just famous career in a slump, issued DVD has also been the ban of the video store. He was walking down the street, no one knew him, fierce wind in the clothes, shivering. He seemed an idle youth abjection. Then the boy meets girl in the bar, and soon the girl was his personal charm to conquer. For the simplicity of the girl, she feel that the handsome boy looks clean and restrained. The girl in the school soon, in the coffee shop, read at home, the boy sent word, the boy begins to campus shuttle girl. In the sky snow street, the girl sat on the boy's car, watching the snowflakes flutter over, the boy grabbed the girl's left hand, she felt warm and safe. Girl's urging, scrape off the beard, wash his clothes, spring comes, he felt the girl-girl fragrance and returning to the warm, sitting in the car, he also felt a sense of security. The power of love, he began to focus on writing lyrics, off to eat instant noodles at home. While writing his side of the change, while listening to Jay Chou song while reading poetry. Later, his songs are companies hiring, released a new album. Achieved good sales. Winter passed, spring be far behind?After they came together, the feelings, the situation seems to never be brought back to the original warmth and heart. Girls began screaming, often angry, the boy often did not come home due to work, came home after and electric, totally enclosed. The girls hate him indifferent, but never thought to leave him. The girl is the kind of beautiful talented woman, encountered the boys worked hard in the entertainment, it is destined to have a lot of undefeated rival. When the boyfriend decisively to end the relationship, she found deeply in love with the boy, but is unable to retain, because she was accustomed to ordinary life, I do not know what kind of spark to keep him.Perhaps to the end of time, and retain only the deterioration of relations, crying will only show weakness. Often let go of the woman in the coffee shop they claim to break up, love is total, such as coffee, bitter and sweet, able to reject the mediocrity of life is love flowers, however, refused to mediocre love is decisive break up, a good start lives.

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