Short Sentence Excerpts for Scenario Integration 1. Requirement to Excerpt Scenario Integration Quotations
Last night's an autumn rain, wet my eyes, quietly watching people come and go, the leaves are green, the leaves are red, the tireless heart, swimming in the forest of the red maple.
In the past life for the meeting in this life, not willing to cross the bridge of Naho, not willing to drink Mengbo soup, turned into a drop of dew, hanging between the maple leaves, moistening the maple leaves, accompanied by its loneliness, accompanied by it burning. And let that tree of flame into a koto, let my three thousand green silk for the strings, in such a silent dawn, for you, soft play a song, red maple is a dark night jumping flame, green silk is the mark of the past life, you, is unable to forget this life.
That zheng sound, only you can hear, because last night I was not drunk, it is this tree full of splendor woke up the sleeping dream of a thousand years, when the dream woke up, I still can not grasp that waiting for the love affair, can not see that moment of love. In such a gorgeous background, if you have not come, this full of prosperity, this jumping flame, this gaze of the eyes, can only be left in vain and silence.
Do not ask for the past life, do not ask for the next life, how much I want, so drunk in the quiet dawn, with your usual attention and tacit understanding, smooth the vicissitudes of my life, wipe away the dark night of my sorrows, so that I can feel a maple leaf's quiet beauty and exquisite, a drop of dew crystal and pure, a ray of wind of tenderness and yearning.
I would like to float in the maple forest in full swing like this, looking forward to the sound of your hooves breaking the dawn of the cold, I burned with the maple leaves, sprinkled with a ground of crimson acacia, piece by piece scattered in your bag, dot by dot, strung together into the unrepentant in this life. A few intoxicated, a few obsessed, in the frosty forest of late fall, you are flying or perched? Can you hear the distant pure zheng sound, can you see the tree full of flames, burning confession? I hold the lost teardrops of my past life and the dew of my present life to wash away the dust of your many years and the vicissitudes of your past life and the fatigue of your present life, are you tired? No matter when, I will wait quietly in the frosty forest of the break of dawn, here is your eternal station, facing the mountains and flowing water, facing the thick earth and yellow sky, remembering the beauty of life, and meet for a thousand years.
I don't know who is in the quiet singing: chaos in the world, in addition to you, all the prosperity are background, this play with life to play on, pay a rare agreement, this love is only meaningful to you and me. In the misty frosty forest, if you have not remembered, if I have not come, only, prosperous as smoke, a dream like a butterfly, gently fell in the background, fell in the red dust outside.
And I stubbornly with a classical sentiment, stroking the zheng low singing, in love with the autumn wind and fog, drunken red dawn maple leaves, just, just, carrying the acacia of the maple forest is getting thin, I am, than the maple forest is thinner. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said.
The whole maple forest is as red as drunkenness, drunkenness is bright red, drunkenness is almost transparent. Drunk in the past life and this life, searching for, I, only wish to be the branch of the reddest piece of maple leaves, lighting the fire of your life, illuminating the road of reincarnation of the millennium "accompanied by the empty city, should be idle bell.
Just as the leaves fall in the fall; dust in the light of day; running water in the stream beside the resting feet of the reverse traveler. The moment is not for meeting, but for not missing and rejoicing.
For this moment, so do not be afraid to say separation, and regardless of this separation is really the corner of the world is far away. Because of this indefinite period of time in the heart, so unafraid to wait; because of this waiting and withered how many seasons of flowers, so comb a white hair, years of Xiao Xiao land.
And the color of the mountain and the color of the water in the eye pole twisted into a picturesque landscape, in a trance, that mountain is me, that water is you ......" "Wait for me, but I have no dream to give. The body is already like an autumn fluff; the heart is entrusted to the clouds and flowing water, how can I be a dreamer in the spring boudoir again?" --From "A Bite of Idle Clock" by Jianchen I The sunlight spreads out into a road.
Inside the golden radiation field, the sky is high and the wind is slight. The shadows, which appear and disappear, walk recklessly, in a trance-like state of confusion.
This is the day when the autumn wind kisses the cool mood. The leaves in front of the house, as if turning yellow overnight, in and out of the strong stimulation of the eyes and emotions.
And occasionally see a few pieces in the air dancing down, and give a person a kind of strong bleak flavor. The two red whisker virtual dream of water even the sky, willow flakes year after year floating like snow.
The wind and dust of life, back and forth, tirelessly blowing. The clock hand, calmly walking, lonely far away.
A period of time, the weather is still hot and muggy, so people feel the long summer in the South. Broken do not know that at this time the breath of cold is pervading the north.
When the cold wind rises again, I think the northern wilderness has gradually become the meaning of depression. And the purple sand bubble green Xiangfei tears, alas, in the sound of reading "Li Sao".
Dormant in the city of their own, all day long buried in the scrolls of the text, it seems to have forgotten the seasonal change and invasion. At first glance, I raised my eyes, a voluminous and came to the autumn wind hit the floor of the window pane quietly ringing, the body is also like through the silk of the coolness.
2. Abstract and "wind, rain" related to the blend of sentences.
The sunshine is not rain, occasionally look up and see far away, the mountains near the house is always a sunshine.
The season is getting more and more sluggish, even if the sunshine filled to every corner, between the world still can not escape a dusty foggy scene. So I want to go out and take a walk to see the sky outside, whether it is the same as here.
Then invited two friends, want to go to the West Lake tour, who knew that out of the time, the heavens actually put up a happy attitude, blowing up the cold wind, the rain dashing, from the morning straight down to the late night. At that time, my friend hesitated, want to beat the drum, said in this gray sky, the mood has become gray, the tour will therefore no interest.
Only I insisted on going forward, encouraging them, perhaps the rain has the rain of interest it, not to say that "water brimming with sunny side good, mountain color empty rain is strange"? The rain continued to fall all the way. The Hui-Hang Expressway is not yet fully open, but the car speed than I expected to be faster, after more than two hours of relaxation, when Hangzhou in the time, I have been dizzy and vomited all the stomach.
And my mood, too, has long been in the road bumps sink down. I was not willing to sit in the car for a few moments, but I was very happy to see that it was raining.
Taxi all the way to and fro, shuttle non-stop, I can only hide far away. I thought, why don't you put up an umbrella and walk around casually, and then go to the West Lake, and feel the lakes and mountains in a general way.
I'm used to seeing the mountains and waters of Jiangnan, and I don't have much hope for the West Lake. Even if the West again beautiful, but also can not escape the Jiangnan show, can not escape the small bridges and flowing water, tourists weaving set.
-- I was thinking nonsense, while walking with tired feet, close to the West Lake. I didn't really know the next step of my journey, just lazily trying to approach the West Lake.
I am more and more skeptical of my own ability to walk, want to see the scenery, but always so unable to take steps, every road, is like a deliberate test, although this test comes simple and weak a little. The first thing I've noticed is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good deal on a new product, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to get a good deal on a new product, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to get a good deal on a new product.
Countless times I recalled the beauty of the West Lake, but I was unable to express it. When I gazed at it again, it was as if I was wandering through it, and when I looked back, I still didn't know where to start.
So I could not restrain myself from doubting my ability to write. Until through the writing of the "Liu Lang Wenying" stone, a long pebble paved tunnel, the Hangzhou City, blocking out the traffic, people, I suddenly realized that I am in Hangzhou, the heart of the West Lake in front of me.
The moment suddenly came a bit of interest.
The first time I saw this is when I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night when I was in the middle of the night.
Not see the city's prosperity, do not see the winter depression, in front of me, the rain is flying, the wind whisking willow, the landscape is charming visible, the willow wave is appropriate. I was a little surprised, but also finally excited, wandering in the trail, there are some time reversal of the joy.
The drizzle, in the willow branches swept through, gathered into crystal clear grains of small water beads, jumping in my umbrella. I raised my head, and it kissed my forehead; I raised my camera, and it fell into my lens.
Lift the willow leaves of the successive play, the water of the West Lake came, misty rain, water waves. Just like a just completed ink painting, but by the rain from the sky, washing the ink, and by the ups and downs of the lake, washing the remnants of the marks, so this painting, just see a piece of smoke and rain confused.
Mountain color hidden, everything empty mist, far from the boat boat paddling through, but also only a faint shadow, only to see the water behind the water, a water line stretches to go ...... raise your eyes, under the rain curtain, only pure water and sky color, there is no silhouette complicated, no world wells hustle and bustle. It is behind the willow waves, but also less sound warbling, because of the season's lonesome, because of the days of rain, the West Lake has become lonely.
But I like this West Lake, as if a thousand years of waiting, just for this moment quietly open to me, never met, and once we meet, this first look, it is this kind of intoxicated. If you can linger again, will it be engraved in your heart? I don't know.
The West Lake in the rain and smoke, leaving me with perhaps just this one glance of the sheer love ...... long bridge is not long, broken bridge constantly. The water in the West Lake, relying on the long embankment and the small bridge, connecting the wave after wave of legends and stories.
The 18th sent the entanglement, so that a small bridge has become zigzag, butterflies and went to the lovers, will not come back to see, who leaned on the edge of the rail nostalgia for the time of the year? There is no snow on the Broken Bridge, the rain curtain covers the Broken Bridge and the whole world beyond the Broken Bridge, those myths sprinkled in the folklore, far away, through the rain, through the floating light, through the long history, through the century's bustle of the silhouettes, vaguely approaching. The ordinary bridge, it carries a thousand years of legend.
So I want to go see Leifeng Pagoda. Across the Xizi Lake, Leifeng Pagoda stands in the misty rain, let me think about.
Closer to go, the splendor, there are wood carvings highlighting the story of the White Lady and Xu Xian, there are colorful murals depicting the legend of Sakyamuni, but the modern elevator, spacious and clean luxury feel, breaking the original mystery and faraway, so that people completely lost imagination. Tower of the base of the residual some of the scripture bricks, ordinary eyes of the mortal world I can not see those scripture bricks and the usual brick what is the difference, just, I prefer to touch the original simple brick and barren weeds.
Not delicate and beautiful to impress people. Did not see the view of Leifeng sunset, even if you see and how? The real Leifeng sunset, should exist in the vicissitudes of history mileage.
West Lake, or the same West Lake, carrying the legend of the millennium, embracing the footsteps of the masses. My expectations, stagnant in the complicated world outside the West Lake, suddenly approached, releasing the moment of amorous feelings, hate can not take the West Lake into his arms at once.
The rain is still coming down, and it won't stop falling, so let's just say that the West Lake is more than enough, and it's going to recede into the night and the rain and the fog. Lights rippled vaguely in the water's edge, there is no three pools reflecting the moon's reflection of the waves, there is no broken bridge of endless memories, as far as the eye can see, only the lake water ripples, shaking my swaying restless heart.
That page of the West Lake turned over, and never turned back. The next day I deliberately come back, walk through the Su Causeway, take the boat, no matter how close contact, can not find that kind of heartbeat feeling.
I know that I am a person who loves the old, the same West Lake, a night apart, can not find back yesterday's feeling. The water surface of the inner lake is covered.
3. 求情景交融的句子(10句就行) 有心理活动和风景 短一点
1. Broad Tiananmen Square bathed in brilliant sunshine, looks exceptionally majestic and solemn.
2. Ah! The bright spring of the motherland moisturizes my heart. Spring light is sprinkled all over the earth, and spring colors cover the rivers and mountains.
3. Grass sneaks out of the soil, tender, green, garden, field, look, a large area full of. Sitting, lying, playing two rolls, kicking a few balls, race a few runs, catch a few times hide and seek, the wind is light and quiet, the grass is soft.
4. At this time, the rain came down.
5. People were listening, listening, listening to the sound that shook the world; the Chinese people **** and the country was founded! The Chinese people have stood up since then!
6. All of a sudden, the sea surged up huge waves, countless sea oats, dancing in the sky.
7. It was so hot that the sun came out, and the ground was already on fire. In the yard, there is no wind at all, suffocating people can not breathe; willow trees are like a disease, the leaves in the branches of the rolls; the road on the thousands of baba glowing white, scalding people's feet; it is really everywhere dry, everywhere scalding, everywhere suffocating people can not breathe.
8. Don't yell, look at it! The sun is showing its head, the sun is showing its eyebrows and eyes, the sun is jumping out, the sun has left the earth and risen! The storm is a natural piece of music, lightning is a prelude, thunder is a note, wind, rain is the main theme of the storm.
10. The night sky is the stage of the universe, the blue sky is the curtain, the evening breeze is the soundtrack, the stars, the moon is the sky actors. Truth, like the sun, no one can not be dazzled when looking directly at it. Dignity, like a seatbelt, no one in the rugged mountain road is willing to give it up
4. Provide Sentences, paragraphs in the context
When I was so thirsty that my throat was smoking, I heard a brittle child's voice call out to me, "Big Sister, come and drink a mouthful of water on the put." I was startled, hesitantly stopped my steps, turned around and saw a little country girl in a blue cloth coat. She scooped up a ladle of water and handed it to me, looked at me gulping it down, and said to me with a simple smile, "This is what my father picked out, and since I see that you're thirsty, I'll ask you to come and drink it." He said and stuffed me with a handful of flowers, "This is what I picked, but it smells good." I took the bouquet of flowers, red, pink, yellow, so beautiful yo! The fresh fragrance of the flowers refreshing, I suddenly awake a lot, she simply gave me a fresh and elegant world ah! I looked at her smile, along the way I picked a lot of these flowers, the more I see the more I like, this flower. It is clear that there is the simplicity and shyness of the mountain people.
5. Sentences in the context of 20 words
In the fall, I like to walk on the mountain trails.
Sometimes a flock of geese swept overhead, and their distant honking brought one's thoughts to a high place; sometimes a few pheasants leaped over the mountains, dragging their beautiful tail feathers, revealing a bit of the phoenix's honorable temperament. The water is smaller and finer, but the sound is more refreshing.
The leaves are turning yellow and showing a soft color. The fields are empty, leaving behind the tail end of the fall harvest.
Everything seemed so silent, I was lost in it. The moonlight was pale and cold, and the only sound around me was the rustling of the leaves.
The leaves fell gently and the stars blinked silently. I stroked the cracked bark of an old tree and imagined the years it had been in, as if I could feel the pain of the knife in its heart.
As the night wore on, a dog barked in the distance, and the soul trembled.
6. request the scene of the paragraph 100 words on the good
Snow, a hundred in this graceful Jiangnan.
Through the fuzzy glass window, see everything is so peaceful. From the north to the south in these years, I have been again extravagant whether I can still see the snow, the bold and rude goose feather snow, this degree is my northern family temperament ...... gentle snowflakes, climbed all over the quiet roof, do not publicize, seem to be euphemistic.
This is the south, even the snow is so gentle and elegant. Big back to the street a lot less noisy, gray clouds to the sky very low very low, as if you can see the snow is actually from where to fall like.
So quiet, let a person produce a kind of silence. I don't know what will happen in my hometown at this time. I think, it must be wrapped in a white coat at this moment, standing in the biting wind in the station to look at me this homesickness people, affectionate meditation, son ah, when you can return.
7. Outside the classroom scenarios good sentence good paragraph, suitable for junior high school, the more the better
The wind, the clouds, floating in the heart of the rain wind, a slightly cool feeling.
The June breeze whisked by, knocking down the memory of the fall of the clear astringent, body and mind refreshing, from the fingertips percolate to the bottom of the heart. The stiff body in the stand with the wind posture swaying.
The leaves gently dance, the rustling sound mesmerizes people with the warmth of the touch, touched in the rhythm of the big sound sparse. I gently shed the sweat stains on my body, searching for the heart of a former teenager, and send myself clearly to the fuzzy memory.
The wind is a boat from the clouds, full of childhood longing, changing the heart of the water. So step by step to the place where there is water, reflecting the reflection of the wind walked, just can not be captured, let a wisp of melancholy in the smoke faded.
The wind whipped the ripples on the water, stretching in pure sight. The gentle and delicate dance in the waves is intoxicating and turning in the gusts of humid air.
The clothes become disorganized in the wanton enjoyment, like the mood that can not be cleaned up. Throwing the clear sorrow, floating up and down in the wind, coalescing into a white paper, calling out the echo of childhood, leaving light and heavy creases, transformed into a paper airplane, flying in the wind as a road in the tunnel of time, flying.
The curved arcs drawn in the air are smiles, cries, and unfinished dreams. When the paper airplanes glide in a circle, the thoughts also swim in a continuation of the temperature of the past.
When the plane slowly fell, the memories were crushed in the waves, and hidden in the wind, the wish is still doing the rest of the sound curls of frustration. The wind's frustration lies in the clouds, the wind said, I often envy the clouds, because that is floating in my heart white.
The cloud, floating in the heart of the white.
The clouds, floating around, dancing with the wind, will bring my wishes together with the blue sky.
I am in pursuit of the white dream, light, soft, that is another cradle of the gods. I looked and ran, and chased it all the way to the other side of the mountain.
It is still so close to me, so far away, I am confused, frustrated, I do not know whether I should continue to run, or waiting on the edge of the watch? How can the beauty of that cotton wool not be enviable? How can its ever-changing body not be mesmerizing? The sun shines on it, it uses its body to cover the sun's face, so its soft lines are covered with a golden luster, it is transformed into a horse, and then into a fish, and then rolling, and then waves. It is as beautiful as a maiden and as lively as a child.
I want to fly to its side and have it. But I don't know how to treat it and own it. It is in my heart is the holy petals, hold in the hand for fear of flying, in the mouth and afraid of melting.
I often dream that I become a cloud, colorful, come and go freely. The wind is my companion, and I swim with me in the ocean of the sky recklessly, we learn that pious quartet, and race with the sun.
The wind told me that we left behind a story of the sky's light and clouds *** wandering. I told the wind, do not run quickly, the heavenly Quaifei expects our triumphant figure.
The wind began to pound, and so did my running, forgetting time, forgetting space. The sun tanned my skin black, I smiled to the wind, nothing, it is a healthy color.
In the run, I heard the voice of the quartet shouting support, I saw the sun appreciated smile. The wind said, running is a kind of power, we forget why we chase.
I said, sometimes the chase does not need a reason, because it is a devout faith. The sun is gradually westward, we threw all the way through the dribs and drabs, the wind said, that is the rain.
I said, no, that is the wet spirit, the essence of water. Rain, damp elves, the soul of water.
The rain in the warm heavens, densely woven diagonally, like scattered curtains of water. The dry world becomes moist with the sound of dripping and knocking.
The leaves become greener, the air becomes brighter, and people's moods begin to be rumpled. I'd like to take a walk in the rain with a small umbrella, letting the rain beat on my heart for years, and turning it into a deep and shallow puddle on the ground.
The distant green hills are dense in the dazzling waves of smoke, people can not help but think of that poetry, such as painting, such as song, like a fairyland-like paradise. Smoke filled river has long been missing drifting fishing boats, and my thoughts are still immersed in that "green Ruo hat, green straw raincoat, the wind and rain do not have to return" in the situation, do not want to come out.
The warm rain cleansing how much dust of history, just I can not restore, can not be clearly visible to describe the sadness of the ancients. I can only hold a small umbrella, pacing on the road where the previous person walked, with the youthful thoughts to savor a distant story, and then turned into soil, hidden fragrance.
The rain pattered down, slipping through the cracks in the path, like a young girl hiding a sad past in a pharynx. Through the rain curtain to see the gray sky, dust and how many stories are not known? And I see to still just a rain, a small road, a lonely river, and I, holding a small umbrella, in the wind and rain in the shape of a single shadow stand.
The rain is the spirit of humidity, the soul of water. Just how many moving stories have it turned into dirt, and even the fragrance is hidden in the dirt.
The fragrance that emanates into the air may be the trust of the story, or my poor reverie. My tears attached to the rain fell, can not distinguish which is rain, that is tears, I do not know, that is not the essence of water.
The rain is still pattering down, and I can not read what it says, but only in the rain and fog to look at its posture. A little condensation of smoke night, a hint of coolness, the wind, sniffing the jasmine in front of the window, elegant fragrance, convergence of a trace of tenderness, drunken starry sleepless night.
At this point, I listened to a song "a little smoke". Classical gentle music slowly came, like a long lost friend, trekking thousands of mountains and waters to find me a thousand times, sweetly look back, meet me in the jasmine moment.
In the midst of joy, I abandoned the locks of my heart to the smoke of the willow, and opened my heart to welcome a piece of heavenly music. The perfect combination of erhu and guzheng, a crisp and pleasant, reminiscent of the big pearl, a melodious and melancholy, let people can not help but grief point.
Close your eyes and let your thoughts drift into the butterfly of Zhuang Sheng, branded with the beauty of the sea and the moon, and in the vastness of the blue field and the warmth of the sun, fly, fly away to a little bit of condensed smoke in the realm. The sound of the guzheng, such as the cold winter water, in the spring warm wind clear season, swung open a cavity of soft beauty, layer by layer, wave by wave, pan green tide of budding.
Remotely, twenty-four bridges and the night of the moon, is the sound of the xiao for the guzheng song, gently tell the dream of the regret of the previous dynasty, a talk is a thousand years, the frost of the world shook down the red beans in the South.