算使了次小性子，挣到花店，捧回不起眼的小束雏菊，精心收拾了，放在公用厅里。翌日，却发现花下多了幅字条：

    陋室四月中
   
      黄花玻瓶生
     
    劳人深夜入
   
      欣然嗅春风

    再仔细读了读，暖意突袭……
    劳人深夜入，原来这大千花花里不只有我这个被忽视的小角色为了生计而放弃喜好，放弃骄傲去埋没在文件堆里，奔波于都市的街巷。这群人，也在身边。几句小诗，本是欣慰，却带出了无奈和疲累。而我，因这小诗，和写它粘贴它的他而无比欣慰。因生计而搁置的文绉绉也侵袭了过来，挡也不住。
   

  这样暖暖的画面，突然涌进了乱糟糟乌漆漆的思绪。像20岁才有的漂泊和安定，就只用一个肩膀。我没有那么强大,当然我知道，你也没有那样的承受能力。我们只需要这样相互偎依着，看着腾腾的热气模糊了车窗。或许是因为我从没经历过流浪吧,竟希望有这样的一次远足,承受着属于小小年纪的负担,微笑着成长。火车出发了，带着一个执着的梦，去向了未知了城市，遇到陌生的面孔，经历单纯的磨难。
  在心里的某个小小的角落，怀着不褪色的向往，或者只是这样的画面，温暖着心。只要想着这样的旅途，便置身于孤立的小世界里了。
  车窗外，是狰狞的好单位、供房、供车、交际圈子、人情世故挥舞的魔爪，撕心裂肺的嚎叫着。

By Robert Lynd无知常乐

    The average man who uses a telephone could not explain how a telephone works.He takes for granted the telephone,the railway train,the linotype,the airplane.He neither questions nor understands them.It is as though each of us investigated and made his own only a tiny circle of facts.Knowledge outside the day's work is regarded by most men as a gewgaw.Still we are contantly in reaction against our ignorance.We rouse ourselves at intervals and speculate.We revel in speculations about anything at all--about lie after death or about such questions as that which is said to have puzzled Aristotle,"Why sneezing rom noon to midnight was good,but from night to noon unlucky."One of the greatest joys known to man is to take such a light into ignorance in search of knowledge.The great pleasure of answering,is, after all,the pleasure of asking questions.The man who has lost his pleasure of answering,is down to the study of physiology in his sixties.Most o us have lost the sense of our squirrel's hoard of knowledge and regard increasing age itself as a school of omiscience.We forget that Socrates was famed for wisdom not because he was omniscient but because he realized at the age of seventy that he still knew nothing.