Liu Cixin Quotes
The Past Was Like A Handful Of Sand You Thought You Were Squeezing Tightly, But Which Had Already Run Out Through The Cracks Between Your Fingers. Memory Was A River That Had Run Dry Long Ago, Leaving Only Scattered Gravel In A Lifeless Riverbed. He Had Lived Life Always Looking Out For The Next Thing, And Whenever He Had Gained, He Had Also Lost, Leaving Him With Little In The End.
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