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文学其实都是记忆碎片的广义摹写。文学作品之所以能打动人,也许正由于它漾起了我们记忆之湖的几圈涟漪。但是那几圈涟漪何以让我们感动呢?想是因为我们终究难以割舍那逝去的美好,抑或只是不能超脱对不完美的过去的遗憾?《项脊轩志》便是明代古文家归有光掠过我们记忆之湖的一?
Literature is actually a generalized transcription of memory fragments. The reason why literary works can move people is perhaps because it has picked up a few laps of our lake of memory. But why did those circles make us move? I think it is because we are unable to give up the beautiful things that have passed away, or just can’t escape the regrets of the imperfect past. The Xiang Ji Xuan Zhi is the master of ancient Ming Dynasty. One of our memories of the lake?