74. Life holds so much sorrow. The night is so desolate, so painful, so vast and bleak. I look up to the sky and ask: Who truly understands you? You cry, you grieve, you suffer—but no one really knows…
75. Maturity is a light that is bright but not dazzling, a sound that is smooth but not harsh. It is a calmness that no longer needs to read others' expressions, a broad-mindedness that stops appealing to the outside world, a smile that ignores noise, a gentleness that washes away impatience, a quiet but substantial presence, and a height that is steady rather than steep.
76. When receiving gifts from others, one often feels a sense of guilt and gratitude.
77. Learn to complete the happiness of those who no longer love you. When the one you love falls for someone else, do not cling desperately—learn to let go. Holding on only binds both sides in heavy chains. A person who no longer loves you, even if physically present, is emotionally elsewhere. Such silent, hollow companionship is like fallen petals—unworthy of wasting time and emotion.
78. A single moment of wind and moonlight, an endless sky; all things unfold silently within the passage of time, revealing profound meanings. Following the traces of the heart, one explores the truth of life.
79. Yes, I will keep waiting, just like now—lying quietly, gazing at the sky and the sea.
80. The maturity of plants is the evolution of form; the maturity of life is the elevation of consciousness.
