Rain and dew bring the joy of life to flowers and plants, and flowers and plants bring people a colorful spring. And my mother's tender love outlines the most beautiful picture in my memory.
When the sun's rays had not yet ripped through the dark sky, the shrill sound of the alarm clock had pulled me out of my bed. Sleepy eyes push open the door, a porridge fragrance to meet the face, follow the fragrance to find, the table is my mother carefully prepared for my breakfast.
Gently sip, full of flavor, full of sweetness. This is my favorite flavor, mom has always been very clear. The corners of my mouth can not help but curve out a smile, mom's usual busy figure in the kitchen came to mind.
The left hand holds the handle of the pot, the right hand holds a spoon, the waist tied with a white apron. The spoon was traveling in the pot at an even pace, and the slender figure swayed a bit. The white porridge in the pot bubbled with wisps of white gas, with a faint fragrance, from that quite small nose drifted past, and incidentally pulled out a trace of satisfaction smile.
The picture is fixed, the mother's gentle smile like a spring breeze brushed my heart. The feeling of being loved is so happy and wonderful.
Accompanied by the chirping of unknown insects, with a tired body and mind ambush reading, it seems that the game numbly flipped one book after another, out of the blue an unfamiliar brown notebook intruded into my field of vision. Look closely, the notebook looks a little familiar. With a little curiosity to open the cover, mom's beautiful handwriting into the eyes "This is my usual copy of some current events and politics, may be helpful to you." Page after page, mom's beautiful handwriting actually filled the entire book.
It occurred to me that every day when I was broadcasting the news, my mom was always among the short coffee table, writing and drawing on this book, and I had thought that it was a work requirement without ever paying attention to what she was doing. I didn't realize that my mom's persistence and seriousness in those days and months was for me!
Tears squeezed out of my eyes, touched and happy. Mom's serious expression when she writes, the back that bends due to the small space, constitutes a quiet and warm picture.
When I look back at twilight, the bits and pieces of mother's love are projected in my mind, recalled, realized, recalled, and happy.
The picture of mother's love is the most beautiful!
Whenever I see the phrase "care for life, care for others", in my mind will appear the beautiful figure of white angel to treat the sick and rescue people, and the heroic posture of the military uncle earthquake relief. In my impression, I have always felt that only those who do these two professions are the most honorable and beautiful people. Until I saw that beautiful figure on TV ......
That day our family was watching the news, when the TV reported such a message: a beggar fainted in front of the door outside a shopping mall in Beijing, and a passing girl saw no time to think, immediately kneeling on both knees, the beggar implementation of artificial respiration until he woke up before quietly. He woke up before leaving quietly.
Dad said: "baby, look, this is the most beautiful people." At that time, I said back smoothly: "really good, to me is not it, what is beautiful, dirty!" Mom heard, very gravely asked: "If the fainting is mom or the loved ones around?" "I ...... I ......" I do not know how to answer for a moment.
At this time, the father has turned off the TV, gently walked to my side, and asked in a serious manner, "Children, what do you think?" I still have some grievances in my heart, do not understand the father said: "Dad, I think I did not do anything wrong ah, mom is not always told me to pay attention to hygiene? This beggar's body is really too dirty ah, but also mouth to mouth to do artificial respiration, think of a straight goose bumps all over! Cure the sick to save lives is the white angel thing, I do not like to do such things, is it wrong? After hearing my words, my father smiled and asked calmly, "Baby, it's right to pay attention to personal hygiene, but do you think life is important?" "Of course it's important!" I answered without hesitation. "Why is it important?" Dad asked in return. "The book "How Steel is Made" tells us: the most precious thing is life, life is only once ah" I answered. "So which do you think is more important, saving a person's life or your habits?" I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do that.
Hearing this, I suddenly understood the meaning of my father's question. Yes, if the girl did not go in time to save the fainting beggar, he is likely to lose his precious life because of the untimely rescue. But I also thought, I do not go to save people, not there are others? At this time, as if my mother read my mind, and then said, "Children, if everyone is like you to think about the problem, then what will be the result? Although our personal power is very small, but if everyone can use their own little help to help those around them, what will the world become?" I lowered my head in shame, blushing for my selfishness and feeling heartfelt admiration for that girl's life-saving act. At that moment, I was enlightened, yes, "caring for life, caring for others" is regardless of occupation and identity, I made up my mind to be a heart of love, caring for others ordinary people.
At this moment, I think that a touch of figure is really beautiful!
The most beautiful childhood in my memory 600 words essay!What is childhood? It is the cicadas in the trees, the frogs in the water, the short song of the pastoral flute, the partner's maze ........ In short, childhood is carefree and happy. Whenever I colorfully recalled the anecdotes of my childhood, my face always flooded ware a rosy glow. After all, that past is like the sound of gurgling water in my heart, once burst is so gushing ........
When I was 5 years old, my mother took me to my grandmother's home, grandmother is living in the countryside, so there are many people there from this village to that village when riding a horse to go, I see very envious, also want to ride a horse to try, but the back of the horse is too high, I can't go up, I was trying to find a way to go up, I happen to see my grandmother in the pig feeder, I feel that the pig is small, go up easily, see the grandmother after feeding the pig! As soon as I entered the house, I went up to the pig's nest and opened the door, then I went in and chose a pig to ride on and then ran out of the house. When my grandmother saw it, she rushed out and called me, and when I saw my grandmother, I tried to stop the pig, but I couldn't stop it. The pig ran into the grandmother's vegetable garden, which cucumbers, persimmons ....... All the pig stepped off, I was also fruit tree branches scraped hands, belly, this time the grandmother can catch the pig, the grandmother drove the pig into the nest, said I was too naughty, even the pig also dare to ride.
Another time was when I was seven years old, I just learned to ride a bicycle. At that time I was not very good at riding, I rode my bike with my mom to play in the square, where there was a lot of space. I rode my bike there, and the faster I rode, the faster I rode. Suddenly I saw an adult riding his bike from the front, and because I was riding too fast, I couldn't stop, and I was about to crash, and my mom was calling me, and I thought, "I'll get hurt if I crash, and I don't know how to ride very well, so what if I turn around and fall down?" I didn't know what to do. At this time I suddenly thought: "jump off the car, surely nothing" I jumped off the car, I was not hurt, but my car and the man to the collision.
Whenever I remember these, I always "giggle" and laugh so sweetly, so brightly. It's as if all the soulful memories of the past have come back to haunt me. I continue to think about the youthful years like poetry, dream season ...... I think, childhood is a tree without the wheel of the year, never old, never disappear ......
Essay: The most beautiful ballad in memoryA certain dusk in a certain year and month, through the deep dark shadow of the years to see the time left behind the palm prints, some of the things that did not seem important at that time, but long rooted in the memory of not forgetting, and still stays in the time of the original, the deepest part of the memory, the bottom of my heart. If your memories begin to fade, if those carrying the memory of the photographs begin to yellow, if you have forgotten the early years of simple and innocent children's songs, if you have gradually blurred the appearance of childhood, do you, still remember the warmth and beauty. I remember.
It seems that everything is destined. I did my father and mother's daughter, born in the night, the name has a very with Qiong Yao color word, a little neurotic and idealistic, is a contradiction. Like a good song but not necessarily the most popular, every time she accompanies her mother shopping to buy clothes she can like, want to not sleep when you can stay up late but still very spiritual, often lazy to do things do not pay attention to the ears of the mother "blowing" over the wind, the rainy days can not take an umbrella all the way to the home, will be a corner of the room to sit in silence or quietly reading a book or talking to themselves. Or talk to yourself. Since I was a child, I have been very popular, seemingly because sweet-talking children have sugar to eat; in kindergarten, I picked up my first crayon and began to doodle, but after many years of success, I threw it away, and then I was blamed by my mother for not being persistent; I started my first essay in third grade, and it was read aloud by the teacher to the whole class, so I can remember it until now, and then I began to scribble it down as I wished. In junior high school, I read Jin Yong, the most admired knight-errant is Yang Zao, because he is untamed; read Qiong Yao, crying to death, so to this day fell sentimental; to later go to Notre Dame de Paris to find Quasimodo, even if he is a man so ugly but the heart is the most beautiful; also aspired to along the same route to start my "cultural bitter journey". ......
So I grew into what I am now. Life is really a very wonderful process, I have only gone through seventeen years, without thinking back to find that my life carries how much love and drowning, how much trust!
I can't remember when I started to remember. The most profound impression of the grandfather is from the elementary school he rode to send me to and from school every day to start. I was sitting in the back seat of my grandfather's car, and what I remember most is his back, slightly hunched back in my eyes, but like a big mountain, always towering. The sound of rustling wheels on the way to and from school was my favorite childhood song. Now that song has long since drifted away, only because I have grown up and no longer need to sit on the back of my grandfather's bicycle. But the image of my grandfather's back is forever engraved in my heart, and I can't get rid of it. Grandma was the one who brought me up, and still dotes on me to this day. She knew how to knit, so I grew up with nice sweaters, scarves and gloves. Whenever I went out to play and saw the envious eyes of the little kids in the neighborhood, I was so proud of myself that I purposely showed off in front of them, feeling as if I had the best grandma in the world and they didn't. Grandma always made sure that my mouth was always stuffed with delicious food, always carried pocket money for me to do whatever I wanted, and sometimes took great pains to cover up my faults in front of my parents. She still cares for me, and even though I'm about to grow into an adult, I know I'm still the apple of her eye.
Dad is ordinary and real, like an old tree supporting the whole family. He did not say much, but as long as they say it will be loud and clear, speak without embellishment, just the most concise sentences to describe the most simple reason. He was not like my mom who tried to persuade me to do and become something, he chose to let me go and let me fly out of the sky. As a child, I often wondered if my father didn't love me because he didn't talk to me much. It was only when I grew up that I thought I was being silly. Dad loves me very much, only he loves roughly, love really, like a mountain nurturing a small tree, while the life into a trickle of water, moisturizing the growing tree, while looking forward to the growth of the small tree can grow into a big tree. His wordless love made me realize that "letting go is also a kind of love". My mom, on the other hand, is different. Perhaps she has always played the role of a mother while changing her identity. When I slacked off to give me spiritual encouragement, motivate me to strive; when I was uncertain to give me a point of view, to guide me towards the goal of life; when I was sad when a gentle embrace to me open, let me vent the heart of the irritability and bitterness. And I often conflict with my mother, sometimes also complained about her "incomprehensible", her nagging bored, and even think she is the world's most unlovely woman, but I never doubt my love for her, just as she did for me. I can not help but think, if one day, mom tired old, no longer able to "tube" my time, my heart will not be layers of frustration ripples? The most thought of the word "mid-autumn", should be about the mid-autumn a little before the village, after the store is not the illusion. As for why I suddenly thought of this, it is because I once again thought of my hometown. The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't know what to do.
There is a big stone dam in my house. Every time the mid-autumn festival to enjoy the moon and so on, we all spend time there. All the beautiful things of youth I think it's fun to remember now, including that boulder dam. Under the blazing heat of the afternoon sun. The initial real Hou will still have the residual warmth there. I think it's kind of like the flavor of first love. It's so warm and moist that you don't want to leave. When I eat dinner and talk on the boulder dam, my mind will keep drifting away again. My mom and dad, what are they doing now. I used to be a left-behind child. I lived with my uncle. So I can understand a little bit at this time, the distant brother climbed high place, all over the dogwood less a person's meaning. But what can a child understand. In fact, I just miss it. But exactly how to miss, I really can not say. It feels like they are with you by your side you will have a small comfort and touched in your heart. This commonplace happiness once lost will be like the next thing to look at the same. Should be missing this common sense of everything, so I miss them, sincerely and warmly. Nowadays, when I am with them every day, I feel that those warm touches in the past are gone.
This is all I can think of for that Mid-Autumn Festival. The beauty and memories are flowing through my years. It's like one of Jian Li's songs today. The truth is we are all pretty much the same. Living a life that's neither good nor bad. Why live to envy what others have. We're all pretty much the same. That's why I miss the old days. I think the distance makes me feel like I miss my parents. Strong hope. Man is a paradoxical thing. Just like Schopenhauer's quote. Life is like a pendulum. If you get it, you're bored. If you don't get it, you suffer. Life is like a pendulum. Swinging between pain and boredom.
I recognize this. But the thoughts under the moonlight at the beginning were so true. Until I am now sometimes detached from them. The heart is full of longing. I again seem to return to that sky.
Composition memory of the most beautiful eyesEyes are the windows of the soul, our life can not be less than a pair of bright eyes. Eyes are not necessarily to see things, sometimes, it is more able to express people's moods; when someone lies, his eyes must be hiding, when someone is eager to get your help, his eyes must be eagerly watching you
Perhaps, on us, the most beautiful place is the eyes. That day, I went to the TV station to take the enrollment test, when it was my turn and Wang Yue's turn to go on the stage, a sister (TV station staff) specially instructed us:
When you perform, your eyes must look at the people, and your eyes must be able to speak, people like the children with eyes of God. Mr. Wan also often asked us:
No matter whether it is the usual rehearsal or on the stage formally, the expression must be brilliant, the eyes must also be able to speak, have the spirit. If you look around on the stage and don't look at the audience, it won't help if you dance well.
Perhaps I have heard too much of this, but although I am nearsighted, my eyes rarely squint like other nearsighted people.
I should be able to say that teachers like my eyes very much. I remember once in the fourth grade, Mr. Kang told us ancient verses, I listened to the fascination, eyes out of focus to look at Mr. Kang, Mr. Kang saw it, and immediately boasted:
Look at Fang Qiuyu, when I speak new knowledge, shouldn't you all look at me like this? Seeing her eyes so eager to get knowledge, which teacher would not want to teach her all the knowledge?
Mr. Li also praised my eyes more than once: every time I scanned the class, I could always see Fang Qiuyu's eyes gleaming as she looked at me
I think, who doesn't want others to look at him when he is talking? It doesn't matter if your eyes are big or small, as long as your eyes can talk and gleam, it must be beautiful.
Essay on The Most Beautiful Moment in Memory
The Most Beautiful Moment in Memory
There are many serendipities in the world, and you and I are intersected by two different tributaries within one river. In my memory, you always like to squint your eyes and listen to me tell cold jokes. Every time I finished, the corners of your mouth would rise. I always think that the smallest thing can make you happy, you are an angel with a halo-Angel. But one day when Angel faded her halo, what should we do? That day, the sky was drizzling. You hid under my wide umbrella. We walked home shoulder to shoulder. I told jokes as usual, but you didn't laugh today. After a short silence, you opened your mouth: "My father's weaving factory was burned down, our family went bankrupt, and my mother recently had a divorce. xx, will you still be my good friend?" For the sudden question, the usually articulate me, delayed to open my mouth, do not know what to comfort this wounded Angel. "I---"You seem to be sad, head without turning back and ran out of the umbrella. You, gone. For the next while, you weren't as close to me as you used to be. Every moment of every day, you were avoiding me. I could feel that you were worried that I would make fun of you. I decided to talk to you about it because you were getting more and more depressed. After school, I caught up with you and said, "I want to say that I will still tell you jokes like before." As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you laughed, a laugh so pure. Angele had her halo back. But the river's intersection was destined to diverge into a multitude of tributaries. Graduated, my memories of you and I are frozen in that moment. Memories of you, and I sat together on the school playground, looking up at the sky together, just like that have been looking ...... until forever, in time childish you and I do not know how far forever in the end.
Stay in the memory of the most beautiful impression essay six hundred wordsToday, clean up the room, suddenly let me find the diary of elementary school. Inside remembered a lot of my joy, there are also sour. But, after casually flipping through it, I was attracted by a diary that was not insignificant.
At that time ......
I've been reading with my teacher for a long time, and I know a lot of words, hehehe. Today, my parents are busy, my brother and sister have to go to school, and they don't have time to teach me how to write a diary. The first thing I want to do is to make sure that I have a good understanding of what I'm talking about!
The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't know how to write this word!
The first thing I want to do is to write down the words "I want to write down the words"!
Because I don't know a lot of words, and I can't hold the pen steady, it takes me a long time to write a diary.
Because I don't know a lot of words and I can't hold the pen steady, I've been writing for a very long time.
Whew, I'm finally done. I'm so tired, why don't you come and get me?
I just packed up my things and wanted to get some air in the hallway, when I suddenly found a big brother standing on the opposite side of the room, his eyes red from crying (they don't seem to be able to cry), just like a rabbit's. I'm afraid of people crying. I'm most afraid of people crying!
I looked around for a tissue to wipe his tears, but before I could find it, my brother's tears fell again.
600 words essay: you are the most beautiful spring in my memoryYou are my deskmate, the memory of you, watery like a water lily with dew.
In the classroom, you were like my comrade-in-arms, listening meticulously to the teacher's preaching, burying your head in notes and looking up to answer questions. When we harvest the fruit of knowledge, we will look at each other and smile. The most enchanting flowers that bloomed also appeared to be dim under the smile of delight at the corners of our mouths. When the multi-talented you stand on the stage, you will use the red satin and beautiful dance interpretation of our gorgeous years. When I made a mistake, your stern gaze spilled down, and I lowered my eyes, aggrieved and full of tears. Now I know that this is a friend of the true feelings of the flow, friends, please forgive me at the time of the capricious and perverse.
You've been on the same side of the table, and you're as open-minded as a piece of the sky with a brilliant star.
You are the perfect combination of rationality and sensibility of the boys, you melt this talent into your favorite math class, the face of the problem of repeated victories, in our class in the field of mathematics to hold up a piece of heaven. Your features are always so dynamic, casually raising an eyebrow and imitating the classic movements of a big star, you opened the curtain for your own personal show, bringing laughter to your classmates and dispersing the tense and depressing atmosphere brought about by the graduation sprint.
You at the same table, lovely like an angel who fell into the mortal world.
The weather in June is extraordinarily dull, hot air in the fan pumping lazy cruise in the classroom, it is your thoughtful words to encourage me to continue to study; teachers split the face of the criticism so that I have no place to go, the tears do not listen to straight down, it is your bright eyes to comfort me don't care about it; in the face of fierce competition and the pressure of the test, it is the temperature of your hand to accompany me to move forward to the positive and optimistic mindset! The first thing you need to do is to get rid of all the problems that you have.
The sound of wind chimes echoing in the ear, close your eyes, the past between students is still vivid: sports training, 5 o'clock in the morning to get up and run the sweaty look; evening self-study, in order to compete for the second to study, do not go to the dining room to eat, and gnawing on the look of instant noodles; classmates go out to play the look of the green tour; the teacher asked questions, due to nervousness, the look of at a loss for words. ...... That all, as if it happened yesterday, with the temperature of time, passed away.
Graduation, we graduated with the ignorance of the lower grades, the laughter of the middle grades, the diligence of the upper grades. June is the season of parting, a sea of flowers. We do not need to be sad, because the next peak of life is still waiting for us to conquer, we want to use the youth to write the legend of life, we want to use the struggle to break out of the sky belonging to their own, we are looking forward to many years after that classmates reunion agreement.
The table of your classmates is the silhouette of friendship, is a precious memory wealth, is a worthy of thanks, accompanied by you through all the days of elementary school. Let us quietly treasure this touching it.
You were always very careful before, asked me to borrow half a piece of rubber, you have also unintentionally said. At that time, the sky is always blue, the days always pass too slowly, you always say that graduation is far away, but a turn of the eye we have to go our separate ways ......
The most beautiful moments in memoryThe beauty of the moment
What is the moment? Some people say that a "moment" is equal to zero point three six seconds; some people say that the moment is a blink of an eye; others say that the moment is small, so small that almost no one to pay attention to it. But I say, the moment is great, it is not only a detail in human life, but also a part of people can not be ignored. Moments are not pale, but beautiful and colorful!
When I was a child, I heard the word "flash in the pan", and I only knew what it meant, but I didn't really understand it until that day. ......
That day, my father bought a pot of short-lived flowers, which have large green leaves, crimson buds with a faint white, really fascinating! Knowing that the blossom only opens in the dead of night, I waited quietly by its side in order to witness its beautiful moment.
In the late night, the sky outside the window was full of stars and a full moon. Gradually, my gaze became blurred. Suddenly, I vaguely heard a ringing sound, the sound was very weak, very soft, as if the colorful butterflies that had just come out of their cocoons were lightly flapping their wings, lifting their wings to fly. I immediately opened my eyes, knowing that the moment I had been waiting for had finally arrived, and I rubbed my eyes hard. Blossom opened: in the kelp-like green leaves, delicate buds are slightly trembling, and then, alabaster-like buds soothing and elegant crack up; snow-white petals from the middle of the receptacle gently poked his head out, a piece, two pieces, three pieces ...... then bundles of golden yellow stamens scramble to stand up, the center of a columnar stamens alone High up ...... petals layer by layer to separate, open into a round white flower. In the soft light of the irradiation, there is an indescribable beauty. The white of the flower, the green of the leaf, reflecting each other, graceful ......
So this is the "flash in the pan", this is not the beauty of the moment? The middle of this is not that majestic momentum, but has its gentle elegance; although there is no voice, but there is a whisper; although there is no turbulent stream, but there is a trickle of water. Because of these countless beautiful moments, we have this colorful life.
Isn't this worth cherishing?
The most beautiful figure essay 100 words
Rain and dew bring flowers and plants the joy of life, flowers and plants bring people colorful spring. And my mother's tender love outlines the most beautiful picture in my memory. --Title
When the sun's rays had not yet ripped through the dark sky, the shrill sound of the alarm clock had already pulled me out of the nest. Sleepy eyes push open the door, a porridge fragrance to meet the face, follow the fragrance to find, the table is my mother carefully prepared for my breakfast.
Gently sip, full of flavor, full of sweetness. This is my favorite flavor, mom has always been very clear. The corners of my mouth can not help but curve out a smile, mom's usual busy figure in the kitchen comes to mind.
The left hand holds the handle of the pot, the right hand holds a spoon, and the white apron is tied around the waist. The spoon is traveling in the pot at an even pace, and the slender figure is swaying a bit with it. The white porridge in the pot bubbled with wisps of white gas, with a faint fragrance, from that quite small nose drifted past, and incidentally pulled out a trace of satisfaction smile.
The picture is fixed, the mother's gentle smile like a spring breeze brushed my heart. The feeling of being loved is so happy and wonderful.
Accompanied by the chirping of unknown insects, with a tired body and mind ambush reading, it seems that the game numbly flipped one book after another, out of the blue an unfamiliar brown notebook intruded into my field of vision. Look closely, the notebook looks a little familiar. With a little curiosity to open the cover, mom's beautiful handwriting into the eyes "This is my usual copy of some current events and politics, may be helpful to you." Page after page, mom's beautiful handwriting actually filled the entire book.
It occurred to me that every day when I was broadcasting the news, my mom was always among the short coffee table, writing and drawing on this book, and I had thought that it was a work requirement without ever paying attention to what she was doing. I didn't realize that my mom's persistence and seriousness in those days and months was for me!
Tears squeezed out of my eyes, touched and happy. Mom's serious expression when she writes, the back that is bent due to the small space, constitutes a quiet and warm picture.
When I look back at twilight, the bits and pieces of mother's love are projected in my mind, recalled, realized, recalled, and happy.
The picture of mother's love is the most beautiful!