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具体描述
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一场末日浩劫后的未来，神秘的病毒毁灭了文明，受害者丧失过去的记忆，变身为吃活人的僵尸，幸存的人类建立起坚固的高墙堡垒，以防止饥饿的僵尸们，成群结队闯进来猎食…。然而，这种看似传统活尸片的背景设定，却因男主角R的出现而颠覆一切！R是个没有记忆、心跳的僵尸，却怀抱着许多梦想，他的内心世界充满惊奇与渴望。某日R正在猎食人类时，竟然煞到了一位温暖、灿烂的活生生女孩茱莉，R不但没吃掉她的脑袋，还决定救她一命，让她免于遭受R的僵尸同伴吞噬。 对原本形如槁木死灰的R而言，茱莉的出现，简直是苍灰阴郁中一抹奔放艳丽的色彩。于是一段紧张而又异常温柔的甜蜜关系就此展开。
R悄悄把茱莉带回他称为家的地方，即一座满布僵尸的机场，并让她躲在一架废弃的767波音客机上，里面有他到处搜集而来的“宝藏”，包括黑胶唱片、雪景水晶球、乐器等。接下来的几天，他们在这个隐匿处意外地共度了惬意的日子，在不知不觉之中，活泼的茱莉唤起R遗忘已久的人性情感，而她也开始了解到他不只是个慢动作、眼神呆滞的行尸走肉。
茱莉很困惑自己对于R的感情，于是带着复杂情绪返回人类城市。她父亲是无情的僵尸猎人，领导人类大军捍卫他们仅存的高墙家园。同时，害相思病的R开始产生前所未有的改变，他相信自己与茱莉的相知相惜能够拯救无论是生是死的人类，不过他出现在她家门口时，很快就掀起活人和僵尸（以及皮包骨）之间的全面性混战，而这也威胁到这一对奇迹恋人未来能否在一起的可贵机会。
这种事从没发生过，不但不合逻辑，也违背了规矩，不但改变了R，也改变他的僵尸同伴，甚至让死气沉沉的世界出现了生机。然而，在那阴森腐败的世界里，想要完成梦想，他们还需要一场革命……
内容简介
R is a young man with an existential crisis--he is a zombie. He shuffles through an America destroyed by war, social collapse, and the mindless hunger of his undead comrades, but he craves something more than blood and brains. He can speak just a few grunted syllables, but his inner life is deep, full of wonder and longing. He has no memories, noidentity, and no pulse, but he has dreams.After experiencing a teenage boy's memories while consuming his brain, R makes an unexpected choice that begins a tense, awkward, and stragely sweet relationship with the victim's human girlfriend. Julie is a blast of color in the otherwise dreary and gray landscape that surrounds R. His decision to protect her will transform not only R, but his fellow Dead, and perhaps their whole lifeless world.
Scary, funny, and surprisingly poignant, Warm Bodies is about being alive, being dead, and the blurry line in between.
《温暖的尸体》讲述了一个叫做“R”的僵尸和一个他杀死的人类的女友之间的浪漫关系，这段关系引发了连锁反应，不仅改变了他和他的僵尸伙伴，也改变了整个僵尸世界。
作者简介
Isaac Marion was born near Seattle in 1981 and has lived in and around that city ever since. Deciding to forgo college in favor of direct experience, he dived into writing while still in high school and self-published three terrible novels before finally hitting his stride with Warm Bodies, his first published work. He currently splits his time between writing in Seattle and hunting inspiration on cross-country RV trips. Visit IsaacMarion.com.精彩书评
“I never thought I could care so passionately for a zombie. Isaac Marion has created the most unexpected romantic lead I've ever encountered, and rewritten the entire concept of what it means to be a zombie in the process. This story stayed with me long after I was done reading it. I eagerly await the next book by Isaac Marion.”(Stephenie Meyer, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of the Twilight series)
“A mesmerising evolution of a classic contemporary myth.”
(Simon Pegg, New York Times bestselling author of Nerd Do Well)
“Warm Bodies is a terrific book—a compelling literary fantasy which is also a strange and affecting pop-culture parable.”
(Nick Harkaway, author of The Gone-Away World)
“Isaac Marion has a great new voice that hooks you from page one and accomplishes the impossible: it makes you care about young zombie love. Warm Bodies is a terrific read.”
(Josh Bazell, New York Times bestselling author of Beat the Reaper)
“Enormous fun.”
(Marie Claire (UK))
“Wryly playful, cinematic, and ultimately moving.”
(Time Out London)
“Has there been a more sympathetic monster since Frankenstein's?”
(The Financial Times)
“It’s got the boarded-up strongholds and mob mentality of Night of the Living Dead—but also romance. As the evil thing resists its evil nature, the book neuters zombies in the same way Stephanie Meyer did vampires.”
(Time Out NY)
“If you haven't caught on to Isaac Marion's writing yet, you're really missing out.”
(About.com)
“In elegant, evocative prose, Marion has fashioned the world’s most unlikely romance in a story that is by turns harrowing, poignant, and tender. At the last, the reader is reminded that we are all ultimately human, whether living or dead. Utterly charming.”
(Library Journal (starred review))
前言/序言
I AM DEAD, but it’s not so bad. I’ve learned to live with it. I’m sorry I can’t properly introduce myself, but I don’t have a name anymore. Hardly any of us do. We lose them like car keys, forget them like anniversaries. Mine might have started with an “R,” but that’s all I have now. It’s funny because back when I was alive, I was always forgetting other people’s names. My friend “M” says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can’t smile, because your lips have rotted off.None of us are particularly attractive, but death has been kinder to me than some. I’m still in the early stages of decay. Just the gray skin, the unpleasant smell, the dark circles under my eyes. I could almost pass for a Living man in need of a vacation. Before I became a zombie I must have been a businessman, a banker or broker or some young temp learning the ropes, because I’m wearing fairly nice clothes. Black slacks, gray shirt, red tie. M makes fun of me sometimes. He points at my tie and tries to laugh, a choked, gurgling rumble deep in his gut. His clothes are holey jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The shirt is looking pretty macabre by now. He should have picked a darker color.
We like to joke and speculate about our clothes, since these final fashion choices are the only indication of who we were before we became no one. Some are less obvious than mine: shorts and a sweater, skirt and a blouse. So we make random guesses.
You were a waitress. You were a student. Ring any bells?
It never does.
No one I know has any specific memories. Just a vague, vestigial knowledge of a world long gone. Faint impressions of past lives that linger like phantom limbs. We recognize civilization—buildings, cars, a general overview—but we have no personal role in it. No history. We are just here. We do what we do, time passes, and no one asks questions. But like I’ve said, it’s not so bad. We may appear mindless, but we aren’t. The rusty cogs of cogency still spin, just geared down and down till the outer motion is barely visible. We grunt and groan, we shrug and nod, and sometimes a few words slip out. It’s not that different from before.
But it does make me sad that we’ve forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else’s, because I’d like to love them, but I don’t know who they are.
There are hundreds of us living in an abandoned airport outside some large city. We don’t need shelter or warmth, obviously, but we like having the walls and roofs over our heads. Otherwise we’d just be wandering in an open field of dust somewhere, and that would be horrifying. To have nothing at all around us, nothing to touch or look at, no hard lines whatsoever, just us and the gaping maw of the sky. I imagine that’s what being full-dead is like. An emptiness vast and absolute.
I think we’ve been here a long time. I still have all my flesh, but there are elders who are little more than skeletons with clinging bits of muscle, dry as jerky. Somehow it still extends and contracts, and they keep moving. I have never seen any of us “die” of old age. Left alone with plenty of food, maybe we’d “live” forever, I don’t know. The future is as blurry to me as the past. I can’t seem to make myself care about anything to the right or left of the present, and the present isn’t exactly urgent. You might say death has relaxed me.
I am riding the escalators when M finds me. I ride the escalators several times a day, whenever they move. It’s become a ritual. The airport is derelict, but the power still flickers on sometimes, maybe flowing from emergency generators stuttering deep underground. Lights flash and screens blink, machines jolt into motion. I cherish these moments. The feeling of things coming to life. I stand on the steps and ascend like a soul into Heaven, that sugary dream of our childhoods, now a tasteless joke.
After maybe thirty repetitions, I rise to find M waiting for me at the top. He is hundreds of pounds of muscle and fat draped on a six-foot-five frame. Bearded, bald, bruised and rotten, his grisly visage slides into view as I crest the staircase summit. Is he the angel that greets me at the gates? His ragged mouth is oozing black drool.
He points in a vague direction and grunts, “City.”
I nod and follow him.
We are going out to find food. A hunting party forms around us as we shuffle toward town. It’s not hard to find recruits for these expeditions, even if no one is hungry. Focused thought is a rare occurrence here, and we all follow it when it manifests. Otherwise we’d just be standing around and groaning all day. We do a lot of standing around and groaning. Years pass this way. The flesh withers on our bones and we stand here, waiting for it to go. I often wonder how old I am.
The city where we do our hunting is conveniently close. We arrive around noon the next day and start looking for flesh. The new hunger is a strange feeling. We don’t feel it in our stomachs—some of us don’t even have those. We feel it everywhere equally, a sinking, sagging sensation, as if our cells are deflating. Last winter, when so many Living joined the Dead and our prey became scarce, I watched some of my friends become full-dead. The transition was undramatic. They just slowed down, then stopped, and after a while I realized they were corpses. It disquieted me at first, but it’s against etiquette to notice when one of us dies. I distracted myself with some groaning.
I think the world has mostly ended, because the cities we wander through are as rotten as we are. Buildings have collapsed. Rusted cars clog the streets. Most glass is shattered, and the wind drifting through the hollow high-rises moans like an animal left to die. I don’t know what happened. Disease? War? Social collapse? Or was it just us? The Dead replacing the Living? I guess it’s not so important. Once you’ve arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.
We start to smell the Living as we approach a dilapidated apartment building. The smell is not the musk of sweat and skin, it’s the effervescence of life energy, like the ionized tang of lightning and lavender. We don’t smell it in our noses. It hits us deeper inside, near our brains, like wasabi. We converge on the building and crash our way inside.
We find them huddled in a small studio unit with the windows boarded up. They are dressed worse than we are, wrapped in filthy tatters and rags, all of them badly in need of a shave. M will be saddled with a short blond beard for the rest of his Fleshy existence, but everyone else in our party is cleanshaven. It’s one of the perks of being dead, another thing we don’t have to worry about anymore. Beards, hair, toenails… no more fighting biology. Our wild bodies have finally been tamed.
Slow and clumsy but with unswerving commitment, we launch ourselves at the Living. Shotgun blasts fill the dusty air with gunpowder and gore. Black blood spatters the walls. The loss of an arm, a leg, a portion of torso, this is disregarded, shrugged off. A minor cosmetic issue. But some of us take shots to our brains, and we drop. Apparently there’s still something of value in that withered gray sponge because if we lose it, we are corpses. The zombies to my left and right hit the ground with moist thuds. But there are plenty of us. We are overwhelming. We set upon the Living, and we eat.
Eating is not a pleasant business. I chew off a man’s arm, and I hate it. I hate his screams, because I don’t like pain, I don’t like hurting people, but this is the world now. This is what we do. Of course if I don’t eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he’ll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make me feel better. I’ll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we’ll stand around and groan for a while. It’s hard to say what “friends” are anymore, but that might be close. If I restrain myself, if I leave enough…
But I don’t. I can’t. As always I go straight for the good part, the part that makes my head light up like a picture tube. I eat the brain, and for about thirty seconds, I have memories. Flashes of parades, perfume, music… life. Then it fades, and I get up, and we all stumble out of the city, still cold and gray, but feeling a little better. Not “good,” exactly, not “happy,” certainly not “alive,” but… a little less dead. This is the best we can do.
I trail behind the group as the city disappears behind us. My steps plod a little heavier than the others’. When I pause at a rain-filled pothole to scrub gore off my face and clothes, M drops back and slaps a hand on my shoulder. He knows my distaste for some of our routines. He knows I’m a little more sensitive than most. Sometimes he teases me, twirls my messy black hair into pigtails and says, “Girl. Such… girl.” But he knows when to take my gloom seriously. He pats my shoulder and just looks at me. His face isn’t capable of much expressive nuance anymore, but I know what he wants to say. I nod, and we keep walking.
I don’t know why we have to kill people. I don’t know what chewing through a man’s neck accomplishes. I steal what he has to replace what I lack. He disappears, and I stay. It’s simple but senseless, arbitrary laws from some lunatic legislator in the sky. But following those laws keeps me walking, so I follow them to the letter. I eat until I stop eating, then I eat again.
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用户评价
从文学手法上来说，作者的笔触非常细腻，尤其是在描绘角色内心挣扎和成长期时，展现出一种令人惊艳的成熟度。它不仅仅是一个关于僵尸和人类的爱情故事，更像是一则关于身份认同和自我救赎的寓言。R从一个纯粹的食腐者，逐渐发展出爱、责任感乃至牺牲精神的过程，过渡得极其自然，没有丝毫的刻意或突兀。这种转变是通过他与朱莉的互动，以及他与“族群”内部矛盾的冲突来逐步实现的。我特别欣赏作者对于“沟通障碍”的处理，很多关键的情感交流都是通过非语言的方式完成的，比如眼神的交汇、肢体的笨拙接触，这些细节的描摹，反而比大段的对话更有力量，更能打动人心。每次读到R为了保护朱莉而违背他“种族”的本能时，那种强烈的戏剧张力都会让我屏住呼吸，为他捏一把汗。这本书的节奏掌控得非常好，前半部分的疏离和困惑，到后半部分的逐渐清晰和坚定，形成了一个完美的弧线。
评分总体而言，这部作品的魅力在于它对“界限”的不断模糊和挑战。它挑战了生与死的二元对立，挑战了爱与本能的冲突，甚至挑战了我们对“美丑”的传统定义。作者没有给出简单的答案，而是将所有的矛盾和张力都保留在了角色们的互动之中，让读者自己去体验和消化。尤其是在社会环境的描写上，比如幸存者聚居地的紧张气氛，以及他们对“异类”的恐惧和排斥，为R和朱莉的关系增添了巨大的外部压力。正是这种外部的压迫，反衬出他们之间情感的珍贵和脆弱。与其说这是一部奇幻小说，不如说它是一部关于成长的寓言，关于如何在一个破碎的世界里，找到值得为之付出一切的理由。那种在绝望废墟上重新发芽的希望感，是这本书最强大的感染力所在，它比任何华丽的辞藻都更能触动人心。
评分这本书的叙事声音非常独特，带有一种旁观者清的疏离感和恰到好处的自嘲。作者似乎很擅长在极端的环境下捕捉人性的微小光芒。例如，R在试图模仿人类行为时的那种手足无措，或者他对于“音乐”这种抽象概念的初次理解，这些片段都处理得极其巧妙，既推进了剧情，又丰富了角色的内心世界。它有一种后现代的戏谑感，用一种看似荒谬的设定，去探讨最核心的生存价值和情感连接。我发现自己很容易就能代入R的视角，因为他的内心活动是如此的“原始”和“未被污染”，没有成人世界的复杂算计。这使得他与朱莉之间的情感发展，像是一切从零开始的纯净体验。每次翻页，我都期待着R又会因为哪件小事而产生新的“共鸣”，这种期待感贯穿始终，让人欲罢不能，仿佛在跟随一个全新的物种一起学习如何去爱。
评分这本书给我的阅读体验是极其反传统的，它成功地将哥特式的设定与青春期的敏感细腻糅合在了一起，创造出一种既黑暗又温暖的独特氛围。我必须称赞作者对于“僵尸哲学”的探讨，它迫使读者去思考，当我们剥离掉社会标签、生理机能，仅剩下最原始的欲望和情感时，我们究竟是什么？R的视角是一个完美的观察者，他冷眼旁观着人类文明的残骸，也无意中成为了重建希望的催化剂。朱莉这个角色也塑造得非常立体，她不仅是R的“引路人”，她自身的脆弱、勇气和对旧世界的失望，都使得这段关系充满了现实的复杂性。她爱上的不是一个“人”，而是一种可能性，一个超越了死亡和偏见的未来。这种关系的基础建立在相互的“看见”之上，远比那些建立在共同血缘或文化背景上的爱情更加纯粹和坚韧。读完后，我久久不能平静，脑海中回荡的不是恐怖的嘶吼，而是那份跨越物种的温柔与理解。
评分这部小说简直是一股清新的泥石流，让我彻底颠覆了对僵尸题材的刻板印象。故事的开篇就带着一种近乎荒诞的幽默感，主角R的内心独白充满了对生存的迷茫和对“活着”的渴望，那种笨拙而又真诚的自我剖析，让人一下子就对他这个非典型“死人”产生了莫名的亲近感。作者在构建这个后末日世界时，并没有过度渲染血腥和恐怖，而是将重点放在了情感的微妙变化上。R吞噬人类大脑后体验到的那种情绪的“回响”，成了一种连接他与过往人性的桥梁，这种设定太巧妙了。我尤其喜欢他对朱莉那种小心翼翼的、近乎童稚的好奇心和保护欲。他笨拙地试图理解人类的规则，却又被本能驱动着做出一些令人啼笑皆非的举动。读起来，你会忍不住跟着R一起探索，什么是真正的“人性”，是不是只有心脏还在跳动，才算得上是“活”着的？那种在绝望中寻找微光的叙事基调，处理得既有深度又不失轻快，完全超乎预期。
评分书籍是传播知识的载体。书海浩瀚无边，里面蕴藏着丰富的知识，
评分内容不错 在大家都说在京东买东西的时候，一直没在京东逛过。前一段时间帮老妈买电视盒，在京东买了一个，没什么问题，主要是快递很快。前几天又买了一个豆浆机，九阳的，买回来，用了几回，还不错。主要是不是我做，男朋友做，说挺不错。没有买亏。比超市便宜了200块。快递还是很快。但是感觉京东的快递服务要改进一下：选货到付款，明明说先验货，再给钱的。还好用的没什么问题，买了两次都还可以。像京东这么大的店，而且现在也有名气了，各种服务都应该做的完善一点，特别是快递，是和客户直接交互的。其实我也知道这是快递的问题不是京东的问题就是了，快递网上有的说的很可怕，将你的东西乱丢的，京东的还算不错了。好了，我现在来说说这本书的观感吧，一个人重要的是找到自己的腔调，不论说话还是写字。腔调一旦确立，就好比打架有了块趁手的板砖，怎么使怎么顺手，怎么拍怎么有劲，顺带着身体姿态也挥洒自如，打架简直成了舞蹈，兼有了美感和韵味。要论到写字，腔调甚至先于主题，它是一个人特有的形式，或者工具；不这么说，不这么写，就会别扭；工欲善其事，必先利其器，腔调有时候就是“器”，有时候又是“事”，对一篇文章或者一本书来说，器就是事，事就是器。这本书，的确是用他特有的腔调表达了对“腔调”本身的赞美。|废话不多说 同时买了三本推拿的书和这本，比认为这本是最好的！而且是最先收到的！好评必须的，书是替别人买的，货刚收到，和网上描述的一样，适合众多人群，快递也较满意。书的质量很好，内容更好！收到后看了约十几页没发现错别字，纸质也不错。应该是正版书籍，谢谢了解京东：2013年3月30日晚间，京东商城正式将原域名360buy更换为jd，并同步推出名为“joy”的吉祥物形象，其首页也进行了一定程度改版。此外，用户在输入jingdong域名后，网页也自动跳转至jd。对于更换域名，京东方面表示，相对于原域名360buy，新切换的域名jd更符合中国用户语言习惯，简洁明了，使全球消费者都可以方便快捷地访问京东。同时，作为“京东”二字的拼音首字母拼写，jd也更易于和京东品牌产生联想，有利于京东品牌形象的传播和提升。京东在进步，京东越做越大。||||好了，现在给大家介绍两本本好书：《谢谢你离开我》是张小娴在《想念》后时隔两年推出的新散文集。从拿到文稿到把它送到读者面前，几个月的时间，欣喜与不舍交杂。这是张小娴最美的散文。美在每个充满灵性的文字，美在细细道来的倾诉话语。美在作者书写时真实饱满的情绪，更美在打动人心的厚重情感。从装祯到设计前所未有的突破，每个精致跳动的文字，不再只是黑白配，而是有了鲜艳的色彩，首次全彩印刷，法国著名唯美派插画大师，亲绘插图。|两年的等待加最美的文字，就是你面前这本最值得期待的新作。《洗脑术：怎样有逻辑地说服他人》全球最高端隐秘的心理学课程，彻底改变你思维逻辑的头脑风暴。白宫智囊团、美国FBI、全球十大上市公司总裁都在秘密学习！当今世界最高明的思想控制与精神绑架，政治、宗教、信仰给我们的终极启示。全球最高端隐秘的心理学课程，一次彻底改变你思维逻辑的头脑风暴。从国家、宗教信仰的层面透析“思维的真相”。白宫智囊团、美国FBI、全球十大上市公司总裁都在秘密学习！《洗脑术：怎样有逻辑地说服他人》涉及心理学、社会学、神经生物学、医学、犯罪学、传播学适用于：读心、攻心、高端谈判、公关危机、企业管理、情感对话……洗脑是所有公司不愿意承认，却是真实存在的公司潜规则。它不仅普遍存在，而且无孔不入。阅读本书，你将获悉：怎样快速说服别人，让人无条件相信你？如何给人完美的第一印象，培养无法抗拒的个人魅力？如何走进他人的大脑，控制他们的思想？怎样引导他人的情绪，并将你的意志灌输给他们？如何构建一种信仰，为别人造梦？
评分书质量不错，应该正品
评分书很不错~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
评分非常不错正是我想要的 宝贝非常不错，和图片上描述的完全吻合，丝毫不差，无论色泽还是哪些方面，都十分让我觉得应该称赞较好，完美！ 书是正品，很不错！速度也快，绝对的好评，下次还来京东，因为看到一句话 女人可以不买漂亮衣服不买奢侈的化妆品但不能不看书，买了几本书都很好 值得看。在大家都说在京东买东西的时候，一直没在京东逛过。前一段时间帮老妈买电视盒，在京东买了一个，没什么问题，主要是快递很快。前几天又买了一个豆浆机，九阳的，买回来，用了几回，还不错。主要是不是我做，男朋友做，说挺不错。没有买亏。比超市便宜了200块。快递还是很快。但是感觉京东的快递服务要改进一下：选货到付款，明明说先验货，再给钱的。还好用的没什么问题，买了两次都还可以。像京东这么大的店，而且现在也有名气了，各种服务都应该做的完善一点，特别是快递，是和客户直接交互的。其实我也知道这是快递的问题不是京东的问题就是了，快递网上有的说的很可怕，将你的东西乱丢的，京东的还算不错了。好了，我现在来说说这本书的观感吧，坐得冷板凳，耐得清寂夜，是为学之根本；独处不寂寞，游走自在乐，是为人之良质。潜心学问，风姿初显。喜爱独处，以窥视内心，反观自我；砥砺思想，磨砺意志。学与诗，文与思；青春之神思飞扬与学问之静寂孤独本是一种应该的、美好的平衡。在中国传统文人那里，诗人性情，学者本分，一脉相承久矣。现在讲究“术业有专攻”，分界逐渐明确，诗与学渐离渐远。此脉悬若一线，惜乎。我青年游历治学，晚年回首成书，记忆清新如初，景物历历如昨。挥发诗人情怀，摹写学者本分，意足矣，足已矣。现在，京东域名正式更换为JDCOM。其中的“JD”是京东汉语拼音（JING DON|G）首字母组合。从此，您不用再特意记忆京东的域名，也无需先搜索再点击，只要在浏览器输入JD.COM，即可方便快捷地访问京东，实现轻松购物。名为“Joy”的京东吉祥物我很喜欢，TA承载着京东对我们的承诺和努力。狗以对主人忠诚而著称，同时也拥有正直的品行，和快捷的奔跑速度。太喜爱京东了。|给大家介绍本好书《我们如何走到这一步》自序：这些年，你过得怎么样我曾经想过，如果能时光穿梭，遇见从前的自己，是否可以和她做朋友。但我审慎地不敢发表意见。因为从前的自己是多么无知，这件事是很清楚的。就算怀着再复杂的爱去回望，没准儿也能气个半死，看着她在那条傻乎乎的路上跌跌撞撞前行，忍不住开口相劝，搞不好还会被她厌弃。你看天下的事情往往都是一厢情愿。当然我也忍住了各种吐槽，人总是要给自己留余地的，因为还有一种可能是，未来的自己回望现在，看见的还是一个人。好在现在不敢轻易放狠话了，所以总算显得比年轻的时候还有一分从容。但不管什么时候的你，都是你。这时间轴上反复上演的就是打怪兽的过程。过去困扰你的事情，现在已可轻易解决，但往往还有更大的boss在前面等你。“人怎么可能没有烦恼呢”——无论是你初中毕业的那个午后，或者多年后功成名就那一天，总有不同忧伤涌上心头：有些烦恼是钱可以解决的，而更伤悲的是有些烦恼是钱解决不了的。我们曾经在年少时想象的“等到什么什么的时候就一切都好起来了”根本就是个谬论。所以，只能咬着牙继续朝前走吧。
评分书籍是传播知识的载体。书海浩瀚无边，里面蕴藏着丰富的知识，
评分好大一本书，是正版!各种不错!只是插图太多，有占篇符之嫌。故事很精彩，女儿很喜欢。书写的不错，能消除人的心瘾。目前已经戒烟第三天了，书拿到手挺有分量的，包装完好。还会继续来，一直就想买这本书，太谢谢京东了，发货神速，两天就到了，超给力的！5分！女性是天生的购物狂，对于购物总是有一些潜藏在体内的欲望，其实女性购物是心理的一定反映，尽管并非所有女性都承认，促使购物欲出现的原因也并非每个女性都一样。西方有句古话：把东西卖给有钱、有势、有需求的人。有趣的是，这里的“人”更适合于指代女人。现代女性普遍经济独立，在家庭购物中大权在握，堪称“有钱有势”。而说到有需求，最近英国一本时尚杂志的调查结果作了最好的注脚——女人每5秒就要想到一次购物，这种痴迷甚至超过了与自己的伴侣相处。当然拉，我这种女性，自然喜欢到网上京东来挑选东西拉。嘻嘻！好了废话不说。我的人生充满坎坷：十岁时家道中落，十二岁便背井离乡，来到一个陌生的、生活条件异常艰苦的藏区当文艺兵。十五岁的花季，爱上一个军官，没有接触的机会，便通过各种暗号和接头地点传递情书，像做地下工作似的，结果得到一个意外收获：“从写情书中发现了自己的文学潜能”。但那个年代早恋是不可饶恕的大错，当我们的恋情被发现时，对方却退缩和背叛了我。一次次当众检查，一次次冷遇羞辱，使我的心灵受到重创，一度产生自杀的念头。二十岁，她弃舞从文，主动请缨，二十九岁进入鲁迅文学院作家班，与莫言、余华、刘震云等一起，登上文学的殿堂。据了解，京东为顾客提供操作规范的逆向物流以及上门取件、代收货款等专业服务。已经开通全国360个大中城市的配送业务，近1000家配送站，并开通了自提点，社区合作、校园合作、便利店合作等形式，可以满足诸多商家以及消费者个性化的配送需求。为了全面满足客户的配送需求，京东商城打造了万人的专业服务团队，拥有四通八达的运输网络、遍布全国的网点覆盖，以及日趋完善的信息系统平台。所以京东的物流我是比较放心的。好了，现在给大家介绍两本好书：一、致我们终将逝去的青春。青春逝去，不必感伤，不必回首。或许他们早该明白，世上已没有了小飞龙，而她奋不顾身爱过的那个清高孤傲的少年，也早已死于从前的青春岁月。现在相对而坐的是郑微和陈孝正，是郑秘书和陈助理是日渐消磨的人间里两个不相干的凡俗男女，犹如一首歌停在了最酣畅的时候，未尝不是好事，而他们太过贪婪固执地以为可以再唱下去才知道后来的曲调是这样不堪。青春就是用来追忆的，所以作者写的故事是来纪念。不是感伤懊悔，而是最好的纪念。道别的何止是最纯真的一段唯美， 而是我曾经无往不胜的天真青春啊。请允许吧，那时的少年，尽情言情。一直言情，不要去打扰他们，他们总有一天会醒来。告别青春，因为青春，终将逝去。陪你梦一场又何妨。二、写不尽的儿女情长，说不完的地老天荒，最恢宏的画卷，最动人的故事，最浩大的恩怨，最纠结的爱恨，尽在桐华《长相思》。推荐1：《长相思》是桐华潜心三年创作的新作，将虐心和争斗写到了极致。全新的人物故事，不变的感动、虐心。推荐2：每个人在爱情中都有或长或短的爱而不得的经历。暗恋是一种爱而不得，失恋是一种爱而不得，正在相恋时，也会爱而不得，有时候，是空间的距离，有时候，却是心灵的距离。纵然两人手拉手，可心若有了距离，依旧是爱而不得。这样的情绪跨越了古今，是一种情感的共鸣。推荐3：唯美装帧，品质超越同类书，超值回馈读者。《长相思》从策划到完成装帧远远领先目前市场上同类书，秉承了桐华一贯出产精品的风格，将唯美精致做到极致，整体装帧精致唯美，绝对值得珍藏。京东有卖。
评分不错，全新，就是有点小贵，没办法，英国书都那么贵
评分无论是在公共汽车上翻阅消遣，还是在茶余饭后静坐捧读、托腮沉思，都会使你进入一种兴趣盎然、
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