Words are the real images of language. When people read words, they listen to the language of the ancients. Language, communication from ancient wisdom, collection of communication; ancient and modern, endless inheritance of culture. "There are fish in the North Sea. Its name is Kun. I don't know how big Kun is. " In the dreamlike things, I have a taste of Zhuangzi's fantasy and free and easy. "The mountain is not tired of being high, the sea is not tired of being deep" is that heroic words, exuding Cao Cao's ambition and spirit. "If you don't see the head of Qinghai, there's no one to collect the bones." In the sad scene, I feel Du Fu's worries about his country and people. "Wutong is drier and drizzle, and dusk." It's the sad ditty that infects Li Qingzhao's wandering and loneliness. The words of the ancients came down with the yellow paper. Birds fly away, washing the past memory. Language, however, remains, like diamonds that cannot be polished, like real gold that cannot be melted. It communicates with history and goes through time.
语言,不仅能够沟通时间上的分隔,还能沟通空间上的距离。人在社会的群体中生存,自身却是孤独的个体。连系着的人的血脉的,是语言。依靠语言,人们寻找到自己的根基。所谓“他乡遇故知”,人们欣喜的是什么?是其语言又能重新唤起沟通的作用。亲人间的一句祝福,沟通起人身上的血液。陌生人的一句问好,沟通起往昔不曾拥有的友情。语言上的沟通,是黎明前的露珠,其闪烁着光照耀着每个使用它的人。
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