余拏一小舟,在静水深流的书海里悠然徜徉,隐约传来环佩相撞的清鸣声。阅读于我,正如海棠花之于川端康成,荒野农人之于圣埃克苏佩里,肖申克之于老布。阅读,不仅仅是享乐。捧一本《三国志》,清朗谈笑声轻擦过耳畔,孔明先生伏惟尚飨;宋词里不乏雁筑十三弦儿撩乱有啼莺;余秋雨一叹千年终舍得掩卷 I take a boat, in the deep sea of ​​books quietly leisurely shy, vaguely heard the ringing sound of the Ming-ching collision. Read to me, just as Begonia flower in Kawabata, the wild farmer in San Exupery, Shawshank on the old cloth. Reading is more than just enjoyment. Holding a “Three Kingdoms”, Qinglang talk laughed gently shine his ears, Mr. Kong Ming is still hanging Fu; Song no shortage of wild geese to build the thirteen strings have crows;