八个人，八束光，他们独立，却不孤单。

 

five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

how do you measure a year?

in truths that she learned
or in times that he cried
in bridges he burned
or the way that she died

仍是八个人，围坐一圈

 

will I lose my dignity?

will someone care?

will I wake up tomorrow from this nightmare?

 

Angle离开了，Mimi留下来了

 

there's only us,

there's only this,

no day but today.

 

对生命的渴望，对理想的追求，让他们拥抱525600分钟

 

想到一句话：死亡不是一件急于求成的事，死亡是一个必然会降临的节日。

 

死亡不是问题，问题是你如何善待你的525600分钟？

 

看到Richard T Hull 在纪念他死去的儿子文章“celebrate the myriad ways”中，写下了如下的话：

 

We could have taken offense at much of what went on at the service and much of what was said to us before or afterwards. But it occurred to us that uncritically accepting the outpouring of others’ consolations was the essence of what it is to be a humanist: one who seeks to understand and celebrate the myriad ways in which humans try to deal with the tragedies and stresses of life.

 

 

Difinately,without the understanding that we are mortal, we cannot appropriately value our own lives.

 

Just writing these words for all of us to appreciate the survival and death, with dignity.

 

 

     今天无意中打开尘封了许久的邮箱，有我的信，是高中好友寄来的，呵呵。厚厚的一叠信纸。她说她现在站在人生的第一个十字路口，但是，现实向左，理想向右。我完全明白这句话。想起我的一位师兄，我是很景仰他的。暑假在上海，就说要请他吃饭。见到他时，他却有很多的不如意，完全不是我印象中那个意气风发的师兄。前两天看柴静的博，她说道戴安娜和奥普拉，这些外表光鲜的公众人物，都有自己不如意的地方。

 

信里附了一首诗：

片心高与月徘徊，岂为千钟下钓台。
犹笑白云多事在，等闲为雨出山来。

 

只是钓台移柳，非玉关之可望

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