Article 1: The Taste of Happiness Composition 400 words People say, "The taste of happiness is hard to taste." Is that really the case? number
When we are happy, we often don't know it, even if others cast envious eyes. Pain always comes and never goes. The luster of short life is so easily dimmed, as if everyone has a thousand holes of sadness. Actually, it is not.
People who complain about unhappy life are more or less pursuing happiness. We often let go of the real things and pursue the shadow of happiness. Just like the blessings we send to each other, we know the blessing trend of our life all our lives? We have always been willing to put the possession of happiness above the atmosphere of achievement and intense feelings. Only by living a patient and straightforward life can we find pearls with happy luster and taste the taste of happiness.
The taste of happiness is not sweet snacks, but cooked eggs brought by my mother from afar. It may not be delicious, but it must be warm. Happiness itself is a kind of warmth. It's like drinking a cup of warm coffee cappuccino in winter Its taste is hard and bitter, and success is sweet.
Its taste is trivial, it is a pool of heart water solidified by cold wind. Warm ripples will melt the heart water round and round, and the warm taste will melt in one bite. Don't pursue immediate happiness too much and give up the happiness you already have. These pearls containing happiness and luster, connected in series, will one day be as long as life.
Chapter 2: The Taste of Happiness Composition 400 words That day I lay quietly in front of the window, thinking quietly.
Childhood, beautiful and flawless, warm sunshine shines on my young mind, and childhood innocence is a perfect representative. I stretched out my little hand and tried to hold the sunshine, but it only shone on my hand. With the continuous rotation of time, my heart is always surrounded by love, and there is always a warm support behind it. There is always a paper plane that takes me to the sun and makes me realize my dream-holding the warm sunshine and letting me taste happiness.
Childhood, innocence, warm sunshine on my upturned face. The happiness of childhood is an angel's wings, holding out her little hand and trying to keep the sunshine, but the sunshine is always playing hide-and-seek and keeps spinning with time. I always want to be surrounded by love and have a warm support behind me. I have always wanted to have a paper plane to send me to the sun, so that I can realize my dream-to keep the warm sunshine and let me taste happiness.
Childhood, can't stay, can only let it go with the wind, take away my dream, take away the paper plane and the sunshine, let me let go of the warm thread in my hand, let go of innocence, let go of childhood, only the footprints there, but also with a trace of innocence, let me taste the beauty of happiness, the taste of happiness!
The taste of happiness composition 400 words Grandma is sitting by the window.
She is sewing me a small button that just fell off my shirt. The little embroidery needle is like running water in her hand.
I sat on the cane chair opposite my grandmother, with a sewing box on my leg, while waiting to help my grandmother thread the needle and studying the gadgets in the sewing box. I am happy to do these things for my grandmother, because I know that it is her dependence on me and she needs me. I also found some interesting things in the box, such as a needle piercer, such as a ring similar to an iron ring.
We just sat quietly, and the sun shone obliquely through the window on my grandmother and me. I really hope the sun never sets, so it glows lazily. I like this kind of ease and tranquility.
I looked at grandma stupidly, and she was still sewing. I think this is happiness, so simple that there are no redundant characters, so dull that there is no development and climax. It's like chocolate melting in your mouth-delicate, smooth, mellow and sweet.
This is the taste of happiness, and I am savoring it.
It was a Monday afternoon and it rained heavily. My classmates have been picked up by my parents, and I am waiting for a familiar person to take me home.
The wind swept the fallen leaves, the old trees in the campus groaned in pain, and the branches and leaves swayed with the wind. Lightning and thunder raged everywhere like the devil, and raindrops the size of peanuts pounded the ground, splashing water drops the size of sesame seeds. I timidly put out my foot and shrank back at once. I looked up: the sky was covered with blood. It's raining so hard, will she come?
Sure enough, she came, riding a bicycle and shouting my name. I was so excited that I flew over and didn't worry about how hard it was raining. She put on my raincoat and put me on the bus. I asked, "Why aren't you wearing a raincoat?" "I forgot." She pedaled as she spoke. I believed it, so I didn't ask again.
It rained harder and harder, and it was just the two of us along the way. Suddenly, the wheel got stuck in a puddle, and the car fell down, putting us both under. She immediately pushed the car away and helped me up. Seeing that my hand was broken, she took a deep breath and rubbed her broken skin. But I saw blood on her hands, so I left it alone. She picked up the car again and continued pedaling. The car wobbled, but it finally got home.
She gave me a taste of happiness that afternoon.