If there is a way can lead to heaven, that road, will be up. That way, must be very broad. Because all life is walking out in a hurry up, on the way to heaven, inevitable crowded.
When pieces, a strip of the strip, pages, was hoe gently over, I saw the grass that one of the way up. The grass is really sad, hard life, but in the father between raised their hands, mean nothing. The grass if will cry, will cry very sad. This huge grass, cry, for the fate of their sadly cry tears, must be spectacular. But did not. Who are not cry. Including me, father. The field or was silent. Sunlight fell down, in the soil, gently break. I saw rolled over and soil, some white roots, twinkled in the air.
I gently lift it, a tree full of grass. Originally the grass in a struggling at the same time, also walked in a downward path. Since, I only see the grass up hard, but you didn't see the grass to walk a downward path. The path to the road, must be better than the key to heaven, more difficult to do. In the earth, knocked down the dark and chaos, steal a light path, than on the air, go upward, need to pay more strength and courage.
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