If you talk to me about art, you will talk about every book about art, such as Michelangelo. You must know a lot about him, his life, his relationship with the Pope, his political revenge and sexual activities. Right? But you must never tell me what you will smell in Sisyan Church. You have never stood under that beautiful ceiling and looked up. If I talk to you about women, you will give me a list of women you like. Maybe you have slept with them several times, but you can't tell me how you feel when you wake up the women around you with joy. You are very strong. If I mention war to you, you may tell me Shakespeare, my dear friend, and then go to war with me. But you've never been in a war. When your friend leans his head on your leg, you don't feel the eyes for help and your last breath. When I discuss love with you, you will recite a poem for me, but you have never met a woman who really needs help. It was that look that made you understand the true meaning of love. At that time, you will feel that God sent angels to the world just to save you from the suffering of life. You have no idea what it's like to be a woman's guardian angel. You don't know that if you let love stay with her forever, that kind of love will cross all obstacles and cancer can't be separated. You don't know what it's like to wait in front of a hospital bed for two months. As long as you hold her hand, the doctor won't kick you out because she knows that the word visiting hours means nothing to you. You don't even know the meaning of losing, because only when you lose feelings that are more important than yourself will you be moved. I don't think you dare to love others like this. When I look at you, what I see is not a witty man and a confident man, but an annoying, unreasonable and useless man. No one denies that you are a genius. Maybe no one really understands you? But you tell me what to do with my life just because of a painting I drew. You're an orphan, right? How do you think I know? Your past life, your personality, your feelings, do you think I have read Oliver Twist? That man is a microcosm of you. At first, I wasn't interested in it, because I didn't want to read that kind of book. I couldn't learn anything from you. But later, Lin Bo told me about you. I'm getting interested. Whether it can be cured or not is up to you.
Will: Why should I work for the NSA? National Security Bureau: You will study cutting-edge technologies and get in touch with technologies that others can't see, because it is confidential. Chaos mathematics, advanced algorithm ... crack the password ... Will: crack the password? NSA: That's one thing. Will: Come on, that's your business. You handle 80% of the information, seven times that of the CIA. NSA: We don't like to brag, but you are right. The question is not why you work for the National Security Agency, but why you don't. Will: Why don't I work for the National Security Agency? A difficult problem. Let's see, if I do this, the NSA will give me a password that I can't crack. Maybe I tried to crack it, and I was satisfied, because my performance was good, but maybe the password was located in rebel positions in North Africa or the Middle East. After you found it, you bombed the rebel hideout, 1500 strange people died. Then the politicians sent special forces to defend the area. You don't care, because it wasn't your children who were shot, because they all joined the reserve. When the boy from the South District who was shot there returned to China, he found that the factory where he used to work had been moved to the country where he fought, which made the shot enemy rob him of his job, because the man's salary was less than one yuan a day. Finally, he found that in order to get cheap crude oil from this country, he would wage war, so that oil companies could use the panic of war to raise domestic oil prices and make a small profit, but what's the use of two dollars and five gallons? They must take time to transport the oil back to China. Maybe they invited an alcoholic captain. He likes to drink martinis and play iceberg skiing. Soon he hit an iceberg, and the oil leaked out, killing all the marine life in the North Atlantic. Now my friend is unemployed and can't afford to drive. He walked to the interview, which was very uncomfortable because the shells made him bleed for a long time. He is hungry, because every time he wants to eat, the only special meal is North Atlantic cod. So, what would I think? I have a better idea. I might as well shoot my friends, give my job to the enemy, raise oil prices, bomb villages, kill baby seals, smoke marijuana and join the reserve forces. I can be elected president for this.