Thoughts after Gone with the Wind

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I watched this story after watching some episodes of , Eyes On the Prize, a TV documentary of the black people’s fight for freedom, before watching the beautiful sublime romantic story of the love of the land owner, .

The experience is breathtaking.

I like the story, it is so real and heart-broken for its sad ending, but I like the ending more, when the sad unsolvable things happened, the heroine in the story still thinks in a way,

”Tomorrow, is another day! ”

Something, some people, they may be gone, in the wind, but instead of chasing or dreaming, believing in tomorrow is the brightest thing one can do.

Desperate, Property, War, Cheating, Betrayal, losing won’t last either. I hope I can find a better way of expressing my feelings today. There is no conclusion in the end, because above all, it is just a novel, a story like that can be happen in any of us, a story that makes us think and wonder about the life.

Life is not always sunshine and rainbow like Schwarzenegger said in the , but believing and hope, a trust in the Home, in the land where you dwell, and you can always make it up by whatever you have.

Let me finish this post with a little poem.

If—
BY RUDYARD KIPLING

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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