Essay 1: Memories in the Moonlight
The moon is full. The moon is missing. The moonlight is like a flowing stream dancing in the wind. The moonlight is like a tassel dancing in the wind, gently sprinkled in a cup of tea on the wooden table, accompanied by a light tea fragrance and the shadow of the trees blending into one. The refreshing aroma slowly flowed into my heart, as if a shallow stream mixed with the watery moonlight moisturized the purest part of my heart.
Memories of the moonlight, I lie alone on the grass, let the light wind blowing cheeks. The first thing I did was to take a cup of tea and smack it on my face. I had to "raise a cup to invite the moon", to the moon as a companion, see that a round of Cindy, soft like water, a good clean woman. That "know no emotion is also moving" Xue Baochai, the last peony, the beauty of the group, but also just charming for a moment, into the dust; that "hot spring water slippery wash grease" of the Concubine, natural beauty, the country and the city, but just enchanting a moment, hate and go. Only you, the moon, soft like water. Only you, accompanied by time through the years, witnessed its vicissitudes and ancient. ( )
Thoughts under the moon are always unforgettable. Under the moon, listen to the sound of the cricket's piano, feel the world's wide and boundless and my loneliness and smallness. Look at the shadow on the moon, always think it is Wu Gang felling the laurel tree that can never be cut down. Looking at the misty clouds, I always think it is Chang'e holding the jade rabbit looking sadly at her hometown, thinking of Hou Yi. Looking at the silky Milky Way, I always think that the cowherd and the weaving maiden are still looking at each other across the river. The sky crossed the shooting star, always think that is the time old man shot the arrow of time, never come back.
I like to listen under the moon. Listen to the old man tell the old myth, listen to the beautiful melody of the song. The moonlight under the night is like a five-line score, the twinkling stars, is like that a luminous note, set in the elegant line score. Accompanied by the mysterious legend, and it is intertwined with one, under the moonlit night with the wind.
Moon, you are elegant and dignified, you and the world as a companion, across the years, beyond time and space. Serene night, I am your companion, feel your tenderness, you, stick to the clear light of time, feel the autumn water in the melancholy, when I remember the past, walking through the beach full of messy footprints, I will certainly remember, your footprints flashing with the clear light.
Part II: Fond Memories
The sun is new every day, and we can't trace it back to the past, but we can treasure it, and after many years, it will become our most precious thing - fond memories.
Memories are always good, no matter bitter or sweet, remember when you were a child your own naughty look? Every time we fell, we could not help but wow and cry, and then try again and again, we came from the fall, maybe the body has been bruised, but this scene for us, those experiences are so beautiful, perhaps even tears are sweet.
A complete picture is composed of a piece of broken picture combination, our complete life is also composed of a piece of memory pieces put together, all the past will always become memories, until the end of our life.
Many people think that high school life is bitter and difficult to look back. In fact, when everything has become the past, and then look back on a different flavor. I remember leaning on the mountain of counseling books, get up in the dark to read in the morning vaguely figure, these are y imprinted in my mind, and will always be a part of my memories. The feeling is so nostalgic and evocative. The first thing I want to do is to get a good look at the world and the people who live there.
Memories of the past, the bitter taste can not be forgotten, eat a burin, long a wisdom. In the memories, we also gradually learned to grow, looking back at the footprints of history, we walked more firmly. I believe that every person has tasted the taste of failure of the examination, right, that feeling really maddening. In fact, we are not in constant progress, because we feel the bitterness, we are more cherish the sweet taste, this is the special function of memory it!
We can not change the past, but we can at least change the present, living in the present, we must take the initiative to create more beautiful memories, so that more happiness, less pain!
Memories:
I think of the night, because of fear of the darkness to hold tightly to the mother's own, I think of the small partners in the orchard to eat persimmons of their own, think of the graduation ceremony, the tears of their own ...
Countless scenarios dive into my mind, but I also still remember them, and of course, the old me.
The roads we traveled, the mistakes we made, the successes we achieved... All confirmed by our memories. Treasure that one good memory! And it will last forever.
Happy moments we can not flow, then let it stored in the beautiful memories, accompanied by us to see the tide, blossom and fall.
Part III: The flavor of memories
A person's life, walked through a landscape, encountered a person, quietly guarded a tree flower rain, sit and watch a cloud, some of them eventually left you, can not be retained, some of the attachment so far, haunting stumbling in the body. Until one day, remembered once met, and then miss, can remember the blurred back. In order to catch that feeling, not in the loss of years, midnight, with a pot of sentiment 'boiling water punch cut a bubble of strong tea, see it tumbling, undulating, such as smoke in the past slowly into the memories, and then precipitation, savor, quietly recall, a kind of light, leisurely, can not distinguish between sadness or joyful taste, you will understand, once upon a time the ends of the earth, and now at arm's length.
Memories are a green mountain, childhood time scattered in the piece of pine layer, maple leaves like fire on the slopes, rippling in the piece of buckwheat such as snow, cauliflower golden terraces; undulating in the bend of the mountain road with the wind swaying tip of the grass. After so many years, the smoke, dusk of the pastoral return, the hoe of the field, whether it still hides a simple smile, shallow touched. Between one breath and one inhalation, like sniffing the fragrance of the old house meal, lingering around, found that the wisp of tranquility is still mellow, warm, emitting the flavor of the sun. In those years, the grass is spreading, the tung flower ramp, the sadness of memory gradually clarified clarification, a warmth permeates the body.
Memories are a long trek, some people, some things, some love, into the search for the beautiful wedge of the past. Remember the inexplicable original intention, can not find a place to accept, so in a windy afternoon, close your eyes, enjoy the window a meter of sunlight through, shallow tender bright shot into the heart, with thoughts as a paddle, to sentiment as a boat, began to sail away. Once upon a time in the past, teenagers carrying their own bags, loaded with some dreams, through the years walked through the sunset village, drifting midnight city, lightly trampled on the leaves of the cold mountain, turning the red dust and purple strata, all the way to stop and go, on the road along the scenery or smile, or tears, or silence. And then look back, inadvertently, missed or lost people or things, by chance floating in the heart, the corner of the eye secrete some wet to, so, spread a piece of paper paper, recorded in the case, to brew some of the flavor of the old. Those plot fragments, tandem editing, playback of past entanglements, ups and downs, smoke and haze reflected in the flow of light in the dance. Years later I, and then look back, let a person sigh, let a person doubt, let a person rejoice. The sudden realization, once met, is how not easy, a chance, is a thousand years of practice.
Memories such as a meticulous search. In a certain dusk, a green shirt wandering in the waiting ferry, trying to find the lost seed. Once opened the flowers have fallen, missed the opening season, only the withered branches left, folded branches into the arms, as if smelling the promise of the micro-perfume, is so red and bright, in the eyes of the flow of light and shadow. Time is like smoke, curling misty, dancing with the wind, the lost years played back, fuzzy silhouette gradually clear, missed the people and stand in front of the eyes again, still well, still spring, still flowers bloom on the street, is still the green eyes and face. The fragrance has not been exhausted, the smoke has not disappeared, the clouds have not been dispersed, the soul is still there. Pulling the watery face, picking a flower and pinning it on the temples of the clouds, Yi's light smile, crystal like dew, wisps of goodness in the rise, curling like green smoke. Gazing at the blue star like eyes, waiting for the grudge deep hidden, acacia turned out to be so bone-deep. Recall Yi a trace of chagrin, a trace of unwillingness, filled with sweet jar, this moment knocked over, fragrant overflowing. Once touched, too late to say the words, this time do not need to brew, really, do not need to brew, momentary exhalation, momentary cry, finally shouted out your name.
Memories are a penetrating rain, warm and soft as jade, moist like smoke, withered grass returned to the green, pulling out the section, the road luxuriantly away, waiting for the return of the footprints. Such as grass love is universal, but also noble, shallow hidden in a grain of dust, a shot of soil, a bed of ground, there is no intentional frenzy, but there is incomparable vitality. A drop of rain, you can bloom again the thick green of life, a trace of wind, you can dance the wind color of youth, a ray of sunshine, you can diffuse the barren land. If love is the flower with life for the fruit, I do not want to flowers withered, I would rather choose grass, alive and green all over the life of every corner.
The rain at dusk, a little two three or four points, silently rendering the lonely courtyard. Imagine that the swallows on the beam have long been murmuring, and the flowers by the hedge have bloomed, there should be an oil-paper umbrella through the window of the bamboo forest, knocking on the door of the lonesome. That person went to the river of the Poetry Scriptures, and there was no more news. Throw boundless loneliness on a person, let her stay together until the dark, thin shoulders how to carry a heavy oath, distant attachment but so vivid, all because of that inadvertent glance back. How many times, the moon color to the thoughts of the pain, cuckoo cries to wake up the dream soul, clear as water heart, after countless blossoms and falls, a tear was opened to confluence of roses sting, wet fall into the mud of the fallen flotsam. One night, another night, the rain has been falling, I do not know how long the rainy season, as thoughts. Sitting quietly in a corner, accustomed to the cool grass dew, the lapel is still cold, counting the beauty of the past.
In the long river of years, yesterday became obsolete, today quietly faded, tomorrow came to the trail, countless feelings can not wait to bind into a book, has been yellowed, fell to the old paper in the old words to go, and then come back to read the memories of the years. Some people, some things, some love, destined to the next intersection can not meet, not to be missed, collected in the title page.
Part IV: Yesterday buried in the heart, leaving the most beautiful memories
Give up is actually a choice. Walking at the crossroads of life, you must learn to give up the road that does not suit you; in the face of failure, you must learn to give up cowardice; in the face of success, you must learn to give up pride; in the face of the old and sick, you must learn to give up indifference, the implementation of relief ...... We only give up the heavy burden in the predicament, only then will we have the conviction of the inevitable victory. Giving up what we must give up and should give up is even more important than having. Not all explorations can discover little-known mysteries, not all treks can reach the other side of the victory, not every drop of sweat will be rewarded, not every story will have a beautiful ending. Therefore, we should learn to give up, understand this, perhaps you will be in the failure, confusion, sadness, facing the "heart of the bitter", to find the balance, to find their own life coordinates.
"Not to be happy with things, not to their own sadness", "not to be surprised to see the flowers blossom and fall in front of the court, to stay and look out of the window with no intention of cloud scrolling," if this realm, it is difficult for us to reach, then we learn to give up, give up the same is also another! The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
Giving up is a wandering song, sung low in the heart, is full of disillusioned with the confidence of the life of the arms of the call; so that the fall of the beliefs of the re-emergence of the ground; so that the demoralization of the fighting spirit facing the morning sun came out of thin air; so that the world's strife into the world of ......
However, irrational abandonment is a waste and a kind of obsession. A kind of obsession, but also a kind of trampling on life and irresponsible life.
People who don't know how to give up, will always be the life of the unsatisfactory winding in the branches of the mind, life is like the northern waxing moon fog, lingering. Just so a self-hatred, self-loathing, so the beautiful face of youth and the long years passed by just like the wind through the bamboo, wild geese through the sky, just like Su Dongpo's life long sigh: "Things like spring dream without trace".
People who know how to give up, it is quiet to be a doctor, for their own pulse, re-ignite the torch of self-confidence, illuminating the knot of life is not as good as it should be, and then analyze the gap with the loss of the hand, according to their own characteristics of the selection of a goal, and strive to master a speciality, and read more books, broaden the horizons, and clean up the mind is prone to fickleness. People who know how to give up, will not be too demanding on anything, trying to use warmth, tenderness, generosity to create a warm harbor, in the atmosphere swirling with love for life, stretching the tired heart is how cozy and happy!
Giving up, both the road back through the experience, but also re-boarding the journey of the road, but also the past induced deep thought of the road, but also for the future full of longing for the road. The light of millions of wisdom is brightening the sky with tenderness and clarity, leading to the musical wings of life and the bright seasons of spring.
Life has its bitterness and joy, joy and sadness, gain and loss, with an optimistic, cheerful heart, will make the ordinary dull life become tasty and colorful. The kind of inexplicable sadness and the emptiness of life that had been, will division life as if it were a passer-by.
Learn to give up, so that sadness with the wind, only happy to follow ......
Learn to give up, in tears before turning away, leaving a simple back;
Learn to give up, will be buried in the heart yesterday, leaving the most beautiful memories;
Whether yesterday has a clear, or hazy
Learn to give up, bury yesterday in your heart and leave the most beautiful memories;
Learn to give up, bury yesterday in your heart and leave the most beautiful memories.
Part V: Walking Through Memories
Perhaps we are all children who like to be quiet but are afraid of being alone! Day by day, we grow up, day by day, we watch our friends walk away from us, and we are the only ones still wandering around in the same place. A lot of sunny afternoons looking up at the blue sky, very seriously look at the sky every drift of the clouds, behind them seems to hide too many innocent smile, in the eyes of the hidden, like once walked together in the years left behind that a piece of spontaneity, uninhibited, unrestrained, unrestrained, innocent smile, like clip in the mind of the bookmarks, overflowing with memories of the sweet taste.
Possessing memories is getting. You can think back to the childhood with friends together with the most innocent happiness and friendship. Can think back to the sadness of tears when friends that slightly trembling shoulders, think back to friends that were wet by their own tears clothes, recall that we stand hand in hand on the podium of that confidence and arrogance. Once, our friendship was so deep that we were inseparable. Now, each life, each has its own wonderful, each walk each life road. Once we promise: our friendship will never fade. Holding each other's small hands, sitting on the swing, carefree telling the child's true dream. We played recklessly and laughed and joked unnecessarily. Once upon a time, our fairy tale was filled with promises of alliance, filled with stories that belonged to us, and filled with the road we traveled. Now we may no longer have these, some things have even begun to deteriorate. But in the memories, these may be able to never however shelf life.
Having memories is lost. Maybe for everything, in order to distant and thirsty for the future and the future, we really throw away the past everything. In the past, our encounter is a mistake. In the past, we made a vow that we would hold each other's hands tightly until the end of eternity. From the beginning to the end, we have too many regrets, to separate the moment I realized: I did not imagine that fell so deep, originally let go and did not imagine so difficult, originally lost some of the things that had thought was life I will know how to breathe, originally lost those feelings I will still live well. Between us may have been a beautiful mistake. In the end, we still end up with a period as the end point, interrupting all the beauty. Some things will only exist in the memory after leaving, only to let us in every quiet night quietly to experience once that touching and sincere! And people only know how to throw away once, constantly running forward to learn to grow: only know how to give up, in order to be more courageous towards the future.
In fact, our hearts are very small, can accommodate very few things, those unforgettable, happy, painful ...... memories, just that a period of time in the mood, and so on time to dilute, the only thing that remains is themselves, withstand the test of time is very little. To that moment only to find that we are actually so small, what eternal unchanging in the baptism of the years and how it will be? We all know, really stay in the heart not much! I have never believed in eternity, because I know, it is Satan's promise; but I believe in memories, because I understand, it is the witness of pain and love.
Article 6: Blossom Memories
Not remembered, because never forgotten. It is there, always.
The beauty of flowers, not long, but stunning. Enchanting moment of beauty, as if the meteor is present, extraordinary people can have. It is precisely the picture of this snap of the fingers, through the eyes straight to the bottom of the heart, rooted and sprouted, flourishing in the memories.
The reason why people are fraternized is that they have a choice. The more you choose, the more people will be hypocritical. People who appreciate flowers love flowers, red and green, thousands of plants, all pity. In their hearts, the beauty of flowers in addition to meet their own personal eyes, no other intention. Dainty body, shy look, since it is coveted. Eyes to see, hands to touch, pity, sigh of love. Nay, the world's many species of flowers, not a few, beautiful everywhere. More is more, so people naturally seek a more beautiful. The beauty of the last moment has become a stepping stone to the next second more beautiful, so that these flowers become those flowers.
The sadness of flowers is not only that they do not last, but that they are too beautiful.
Beauty is meant to be seen, played with, and adored. They think that they have their own, show their charm, and give their all just to get a look at him. But, in front of the person is adored, but also just because it is beautiful. This immediate beauty, not a few days, will be because it faded and aging in the memory. The beauty of flowers is only for memories. The sigh of the flower is also for this reason. If it could, it would rather not have been beautiful. However, if you are not beautiful, still called flowers?
The flower should be proud. The beauty of a moment is eternity.
Although it can not stay in the world, but can stay in the heart. Just a little bit of color, a little bit of charm, will attract bees and butterflies, capturing the world. You can love it, but can never have it. It arrogantly ** you, until you moved compassion, for it to fall. And then, it leaves that shell that once mesmerized you in desperation and floats away. The yellowing beauty is heartbreaking. People have to open the album of memories, looking for its yesterday's silhouette to anesthetize today's pain. Flowers in ridicule, its beauty is born to punish the world, this punishment, is memory.
Over the years, those flowers have been haunting me in my memories. The poison soaked into the bone marrow, doomed it to stay in my memories of the supreme right. Although the memories are mine, I have long been a slave to it. All the time is not in the memory and be recalled in the past. Slowly, this poison has become an addiction, and it drives me to find those more poisonous memories.
Part VII: Memories of the man
It is said that every person's life will have that one person, he is not your first love of the hot, not with you to spend the rest of the life of the companion, but in a corner of your heart, there is always the existence of his most real.
A lot of times, we can not control their own destiny, a lot of times, and is not trying to be successful, some people, and not appeared will always stay. When the time to let me understand the miss eventually became a lifetime of fault is, I smiled and cried. If the youthful ignorance of the time will make me so regrettable, I want to turn back the clock, in the years quietly look at you. They all say that the scars are good and forget the pain, but my scars are healed, but the pain is still there. Youth is like a coloring board, sometimes colorful, sometimes pale and empty, sometimes gray as dust, I have more than once wanted to forget those memories, want to embark on a new road, want to pass through the new scenery, but every time you need to if great courage.
The gears of time keep running, one minute and one second outlines the outline of the years, as if sleeping for a long, long time memories were suddenly awakened, once said goodbye, how many people have rubbed shoulders, but became a miss. From the initial meeting to know each other, we interpreted the play with our lives, when our faces were full of seriousness, and never had fear, whether friendship or love, we have been sincere pursuit, there are losses, there are joy. I don't know whether I seriously existed in your life, but the most beautiful scenery of my life is to meet you, in my disappointment, there is your encouragement; in my sadness, there is your comfort; in my tiredness, your shoulder is my biggest dependence. I don't know what form you appeared in my life, I only know that from the moment you broke into my life, my memory has a precious that can not be erased.
I remember you once said to me, maybe one day, we will let life tortured numb, but when we walked through the laughter, tears, loneliness and uncertainty, will find: there is such an eternal feelings, called us to understand, miss is happy. This life, I stubbornly exist in their own way, and desire to walk with their own people, also according to this way to interpret the rhythm of life. I have also capriciously thought that those around the care is taken for granted, yes, this life, and who will not have any reason to take for granted to a person good it. But even so, we still do not cherish, until everything is far away when, in a trance, found that everything has been irretrievable, we can only watch, with the initial gesture of the eye.
When one day, I opened the drawer yellowed diary, looking back at that period of time, I finally understand, since the beginning, we are just too stubborn, stubborn not to have given each other a chance, a chance to explain, a chance to say goodbye. Now, we are the most unique way to exist in each other's lives, as always, greetings, but less than the initial cordial, perhaps it is worth celebrating it, at least not strangers. Sometimes I also think, it is this nasty years took away our childish times, but we all understand that the past is gone forever, just that we are greedy to catch it.
In the limited life, we meet countless people, but can let us not forget, after all, too little, let alone a lifetime of waiting. However, in this limited life, we still miss too many wonderful and not wonderful.
Has there been a moment in a moment, in the moment you look up and smile, your mind will emerge a person, with the most certain eyes looking at you, with the warmest smile to greet you, with the most clear past to accompany you, if there is, then, please let go of your pride and stubbornness, cherish, do not let the mistake evolve into a life-long sadness.
Memories change, who pale who's memories, who has no regrets about who's persistence. The person in the memory, thank you for a different posture, and I gaze at the same place.