Beautiful sentences of dust fate

First, the dark clouds cover the moon and no one is seen. I can't tell you how lonely it is.

Second, it is the sorrow of fate or the pain of reincarnation.

Thirdly, after parting, I dreamed of holding hands several times and no tears splashed on the flowers.

Fourth, do not leave in the morning and evening, and the dream is not exhausted. The world is not far from four o'clock

Fifth, the sky is not old, and love is hard to break. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it.

Sixth, the moon is surrounded by stars, the stars have moon companions, the stars have light, and the moon has fans; Drunk butterflies, butterfly lovers, butterfly dances, and flower smiles.

Seven, a lonely who v .. Foreword is always faint.

Eight, the blue sky and yellow leaves, the west wind is tight, flying north and south. Who is drunk in the morning, who is always crying.

Nine, the vicissitudes of life outside the door, the past inside the door

Butterflies are beautiful. After all, butterflies can't fly over the sea.

Eleven, the river is lonely, the banks are dark green, and you are everywhere.

Twelve, the past sigh, Fang Qiu dream can't find, suddenly look back on one thousand.

Thirteen, Qianshan, I am reluctant to leave Qingshang.

Fourteen, bodhi flowers bloom all over the palace wall.

Fifteen, you are my unexpected third life, and I would like to be your knowledge.

Sixteen, the breeze is humid, and tea and cigarettes are blowing. Relive the old dream, the old friend has gone.

Seventeen, flowers bloom and fall, clouds roll and clouds are comfortable, and life is like chess.

Eighteen years old, in whose era, in whose world.

Nineteen, the heart is micro-moving, but far away, things are not right, people are not right, things are not right, and the past cannot be chased.

Twenty, I wanted to get up and leave, but my shadow fell to the ground.

Twenty-one, the fate of dust has always been like water, and it is rare to cry. Why do you want to do it all your life? Don't be sentimental, love to hurt yourself.

Twenty-two, red makeup has passed, and a misty rain has been a lifetime.

Twenty-three, who has the beauty, who has the sadness.

Twenty-four, the heart, if you have no fixed place, you will wander around.

Twenty-five, Qiang sound fine world of mortals upside down, who will lean over the bar.

Twenty-six, how many beauties have been worn out and how many lovesickness pieces have been broken, leaving only blood and tears.

Twenty-seven, at first sight, fireworks are numerous, dancing shadows are chaotic, flowers fall, and Iraqis laugh.

Twenty-eight, the night is cool, the lights are dim, the ambiguity is exhausted, and the song is euphemistic.