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Turned out to be just a dream
Florence 2022-01-21 08:02:17
The two met only twice at first. If it weren't for Armand's quiet visit when Marguerite was ill, or for the hot tears that Armand left on Marguerite's hand when he was emotional, everything else would follow. It won't happen. It was his accidentally breaking into the most fragile place in Ma's heart, making Ma's heart truly alive, and making her willingly give everything for him from now on. Once the fire is lit, the moth will be desperate. Pounce. This is love. When you are about to lose faith and vision for everything, a stranger appears next to you to give you courage. No matter whether he can really stay with you until you grow old, you are willing to dedicate everything you have to desperately Loving him. The love at this time is true love. But from now on, how long can it last, and how many endings will really satisfy people?
Extended Reading
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Carter 2022-04-23 07:04:07
I finally know what La Traviata is talking about. It's really a beautiful love fairy tale. The heroine died in the arms of the man, before she started her marriage life. You say why they love each other, love to death, but it seems impossible to say. The female protagonist is too beautiful, and the male protagonist is too handsome, so it doesn't matter how the two of them toss.
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Bennie 2022-04-24 07:01:23
Personally, I think Garbo's temperament is too old and his voice is low and bitter. Although the adaptation at the end gave this pair of hard-working lovers the last kindness to a certain extent, compared with the scene where the two people moved tombs and opened coffins when I first saw the original work, the impact was significantly weakened. "Let us forget each other - you forget a name that is quite cold to you, and I forget a happiness that I cannot afford to offer."
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Marguerite: A man can go back. He can always go back.
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Marguerite: Monsieur, suppose I told you I have a feeling I shan't live very long.
Monsieur Duval: Well, then I scold you for being fanciful and a little foolish. What you probably feel is the melancholy of happiness, that mood that comes over all of us when we realize that even *love* can't remain a flood tide forever.
Marguerite: Oh, Armand. I'm doomed.
Monsieur Duval: With him, you're both doomed.