Samuel Johnson, the British writer, once said: “Hope itself is a species of happiness which this world affords.” That is very correct.
In this cozy night, I am walking along the Sand River. It is a infamous place which few people visit here. To me and the river, this is a good thing.
Watching the peaceful river and the amazing sunset, I can’t help thinking the meaning of our life. There is a kind of missing which can be called a light happiness. There is a kind of happiness which is the frequent concern. There is a kind of concern which is the distant appreciation.
“All men whilst they are awake are in one common world; but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.” Plutarch