The long sentence of funeral copywriting is incisive 202 1 Tik Tok encyclopedia of funeral copywriting

First, I can always find you in the vast sea of people.

Second, we refuse to explore our own value. We attach too much importance to others' participation in our own lives, so loneliness is not beautiful, and we are afraid of losing others.

If memories are as hard as steel, should I laugh or cry? If steel corrodes like memory, is this a happy city or a ruin? If I can be with you, I would rather let all the stars in the sky fall, because your eyes are the brightest light in my life.

Fourth, why, now you don't understand. I love you very much.

You will never see me when I am loneliest, because I am loneliest only when you are not by my side.

Use me as a kite, either let me go or take me home. Don't bind me with an invisible emotion, it will break my heart.

7. Distant thoughts are at your fingertips, and your fingertips are unscrupulous. Love is just an absurd lie, waiting for you to expose it bit by bit.

Eight, as if isolated from words, the heart becomes trance, empty, unbearable, lonely and sad ... as if the soul has no sustenance, fear, root and spirit. We passed each other in the world of mortals. Who will be whose scenery? Who will be whose reward?

Nine, dyed fire maple forest, Qionghu song month, leaning against the building in Long song. Every year, before and after the flowers, a statue of mellow wine. Water falls red-violet, only jade Qing heard it, but the situation is still the same.

Ten, forgetting is very painful, it used to be, and it is also today. However, the pain of the past is because I can't remember it. Today's pain is because I am afraid I won't forget it.

The flowing night is as deep as ever. Sing softly, whisper softly, and the song is over. Be alone with the night and let it eat away at your thoughts. I don't mean to exaggerate this sadness, but I'm used to enjoying that sadness and loneliness in silence.

Twelve, birds greet each other, and the intimacy is really enviable. At this moment, there was a cry of a big bird. I looked up and saw a dozen magpies and five or six tree chickens twittering on the tall poplar trees. Suddenly, I felt smug and couldn't help learning to sing like a bird.

Thirteen, now we talk less, as if we are far away.

Fourteen, falling flowers turn the vicissitudes of years into the cycle of seasons. Spring, summer, autumn and winter have never changed. They bloom all spring in the form of flowers, condensing the temperature of fingertips into a testimony of love. A faint outline, the outline of love, the former figure, and the delicate beauty of a flower explain the endorsement of beauty at the moment when it first bloomed.

Fifteen, she is such a person who doesn't like dialogue, but likes a word related to speech: pour out, not pour out, and all languages are like rejection and abandonment, like lies.

Sixteen, long life, rolling red dust, quiet years, safe time. We always try to remember every day's brilliant youth, but times have changed, time has passed too fast and everything has come too suddenly. Tears and rain have nothing to do with wind and moon. Drink up the pain and injury of youth ...

Seventeen, sunny, bright and happy life; Drizzle, floating romantic mood; The breeze blows each other's lovesickness; Love each other and blend with life is sweet; Confess, tell the truth from the heart: love you all your life and never give up!

Life always makes us black and blue, but in the end, those injured places will definitely become our strongest places.

Nineteen, time is too narrow, fingers are too wide, and you will get lost. Well, I miss you.

Twenty, plum blossoms are in the cold winter, and it is another snow surge. Unconsciously, the transparent time has taken away a lot of my years and a lot of disappointment, just as I was young and beautiful at the beginning. What is left now is mottled after the precipitation of time, which gives me a picture with only memories.

I would like to lead you through every street in the dim light.

Twenty-two, a few corners of the residual familiarity; Some vague memories; So safe; This calms down, I miss the lines interrupted by the twists and turns of the years, and I leave the past behind. How warm it is to your mouth, but you only do it once. It's raining at night, and it's a fleeting time. If you go with the wind, why linger?

Twenty-three, walking in the mountains and rivers, a dream has been a thousand years, I have seen colorful, flying birds, watching the breeze through the bamboo forest, swishing. I have watched the sunset alone, talked about autumn water, and watched snowflakes flying and enchanting. At that time, if you and I washed away all the dust, we could still lean against the old window, be peaceful, compassionate and peaceful, look at the old yard, fly rain and fall flowers, and watch the sunset from a distance and spend the years.

Twenty-four, missing, silently buried in reincarnation, the story is no longer staged for me, and I am no longer young and frivolous. My favorite pen, swaying in the night sky, is my masterpiece. The stars are my empty eyes, like a pen from Gu Cheng. The night gave me black eyes, but I used them to look for light.

Twenty-five, at a certain age, we must learn to be silent, and every word should be useful and have weight. Emotions are invisible, big things don't matter, and they have their own bottom line.

26. At this time, the snow is silent, and cool thin is white and gorgeous. You walk leisurely, but I'm still here looking around, stepping on the snow in Xun Mei, withered branches and leaves, confirming the cold withering of my flowers. Rhyme or poetry, words or gaps, so bleak, so lonely, so sweet.

Twenty-seven, all the dreams were shattered in an instant, only memories wet my face.

Twenty-eight, there are always so many things I can't say to people, and I like to pour out my joys and sorrows in words.

Twenty-nine, you can escape a lot, except fate. Can change a lot, except fate. You can give up a lot, except memory. You can forget a lot, except yourself.

Thirty years old, have you always been like this, quietly staring at the sunset and the sadness of homelessness?