“那片笑声,让我想起我的那些花;在我生命每个角落,静静为我开着。我曾经以为我会永远守在她身旁,今天我们已经离去,在人海茫茫。那些故事,还没讲完就算了吧,那些心情在岁月中,已经难辨真假,如今这里荒草丛生,没有了鲜花……”——《那些花儿》书卷是我们心底的山河。经常的,我一个人完成一场愉悦而柔软的阅读之旅。那些不曾相识的人或事、美景,透过文字的海,得以与我相逢。更多的时候,一本书带着暖人的温度,朝着 “That piece of laughter, reminds me of those flowers; in every corner of my life, quietly opened for me .I used to think I will always be beside her, and today we have left, in the sea Those stories, not finished yet forget it, those feelings in the years, it has been difficult to distinguish between true and false, and now weeds and flowers, there is no flowers ... ... ”-“ Those flowers ”book is the heart of our mountains and rivers . Often, I am alone in a pleasant and soft reading tour. Those who have not met people or things, beauty, through the sea of ​​words, to meet with me. More often, a book carries the temperature of the warmth toward it