Stephen King said that "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." It may be so. But what exactly does "monsters" mean here? Could it be those wounds that never heal? Could it be those nightmares that lie in our dreams? Could it be those memories that haunt us constantly? Could it be those apologies that stubbornly exist when all the words die out? Could it be those gazes that look into us from the abyss if we've looked long enough into it? Could it be those daunting attempts to open the long-sealed chest which appears nowhere but your empty eyes? It is our own arrogance that made us assume we can escape karma. With all those intertwined feelings, Caring and loving are but shadow and dust. My sweetest S, No mortal shall celebrate the love we once had. -- My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.---Emily Brontë《Wuthering Heights》 --

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