Just a moment (a)
Looking at the reader, is a habit. Every time I flip through it and read it carefully, there will always be countless moments when a flash of light comes to me. So, for affection, for life, for life, and, for love, in that one moment, there will be all kinds of new understanding.
1
Recall that there is an article "mother is not a saint", about a mother's daughter always because of her mother's confidence and nagging, until one day, she suddenly realized: the only real perfection are those who are saints. Her mother, however, was not a saint, and although she loved each and every one of her children, she inevitably lost sight of the other. She was completely relieved when she thought of this.
So, every time I have a little conflict with my mother, I can immediately tell myself: my mother is not a saint, and we can't always hope that she can do exactly what she expects. And I don't think I've ever been able to do exactly what she expects me to do. So I got over it and went shopping with my mother on my arm.
By extension, everyone around us is not a saint, and our students are not perfect. Think of it this way, and many times, we can all be relieved.
2
Lin Yutang said: "Life is like a poem". We should when learn to feel the beauty of the rhythm of life, like listening to a symphony, appreciate its main theme, exciting climax and soothing coda, just as human life has a childhood, adolescence and old age, no one can deny that this is a beautiful arrangement.
Yes, these recurring movements are much the same for our lives, but each person's piece of music has to be composed by himself. There may be occasional breaks or strong notes that make the main theme of life no longer harmonious, so hurry up and renew the score to follow.
I wish everyone's life as a poem, elegant, beautiful.
Just a moment (2)
3
What is a happy life? A girl with disabled hands, writing her life with her feet says she is the happiest person in the world, because she feels she has love, and she also manages to use her own efforts so that she has never been disappointed in life; a healthy, lively, young and pretty girl, with leather shoes as shiny as new, with a passion for reading literature, and even drinking tea with her lips strong-faced and full of longing, but she says, "Where is the happiness? Bullshit!"
Happiness is not there. Happiness is not a concrete touchable material, she is something else, is something spiritual, only know how to taste to catch happiness.
So, during the winter vacation, when I sat by the window to prepare the lesson, buried in the head for several hours, and finally at a certain moment to complete, I stood up, pushed open the window to go, it happens to be this day outside is blue sky and white clouds, and the winter sunshine is so soft, and look around, I smiled, how happy I am at this moment!
When I get my hands dirty, clean my room thoroughly from head to toe, line it with my favorite flowers, put on a piece of Bendrix that I love to listen to, look at the books on the shelves, standing neatly in yards and yards, and look at the fruits on the table glistening with droplets of water, how happy I am!
A child who was naughty to the core was entrusted by me with the responsibility of being the paymaster of the class. His father, who was out of town, sent a message to express his surprise and gratitude. At that time I was in the wedding store to shoot the scene called painting art. The happiness at that time was like the clusters of flowers in the background painting, blossoming happily. This is a great feeling!
Chihli, who is also a small woman, was pontificating with me about her view of happiness. Collecting Happiness, she said, and then at whichever stage of our life later on, just think of it, and it will flow and nourish.
4
I love to cry, though rarely tears of sadness, more often, because I am moved. I once read to a student the story of a teenager in a reader who was self-empowered and burdened with caring for a single mom. The students listened intently with wide eyes as I read on, but I choked up and couldn't make a sound. Immediately, one of the understanding children stood up and volunteered to help me read on. The whole classroom was moved by that lesson.
Sometimes, when reading a book, I don't realize that my eyes are blurry. I was afraid that I would turn to another page, for fear that I would be moved further.
However, it has been said that "every moving is worth shedding tears". In the article, a friend had a party and asked each person to say one thing that would move others, and whoever could move everyone to tears, the others would have to drink. So story after story was told, and the wine was drained over and over again. It was smooth! Yes, all the touching is due to the shock of the heart, all the touching comes from the depths of the soul, there is no true feelings, where to move?
There are so many good hearted and kind people in life, how can we not let us be optimistic about life?
......
In this way, in the countless days of acquaintance with the readers, every moment, that truth, that goodness, that beauty, in the heart sublimated into a round of bright moon, a fragrant tea.
How many points to give, whatever!
One flower gesture
In this bustling morning.
This early morning when whatever is awakening. Each flower opens in each flower's respective gesture. Crowded and full, slow and full.
The golden sunflowers along the ridge, all the way to the end of the sprawl, attracting people looking for it along the way, twisting and turning, heard the wind, and then back to the original, the samurai warrior foot road romantic writing.
The flowers are hidden in the clover, as if only it knows where happiness goes, silently standing on both sides of the road, waiting for those young men and women to find it. Waiting for the pink season to finally come, too late to stretch each petal, I saw the same young Miyu, Chika and Anna, Jasmine ran past one by one. The pink season of strawberries blooms with the same sweet flowers.
It If it accumulates into clouds, it is a stairway to heaven. It If it turns into water, it is a poetic sentence. And it wakes up in droves in the morning, in full bloom, a grand and endless party. Everyone, everything, commemorating the new day like flowers in different poses.
The II Wind Blows Through the Rain
-I'm at the beach in July, stringing necklaces of white shells. I'm at the beach in July, missing you.
Waiting for the Mercury Navigator ship. Rowing through the waves of the world. Hearing the tranquil sound of water, passing through the universe with a blue luster. It is a beautiful poem. Other stories of other distant journeys to Yokohama were written on little white pieces of paper, not wanting to be seen by too many people, just a little time. When it starts to rain, the flat-bottomed boat on Mercury melts in the rain line, and the maiden traveling to a foreign land hides under the eaves again.
- The wind blew through the rainy day, light and crazy dance spin. Someone is talking about the heart of the first sight, and gushing.
Hear the trumpet of fate. Armed with a star map behind the word "FATE". Turn time and space into a gorgeous battlefield. I have been waiting for the return of the rider who drove them. The web of many lives is so tightly woven that people panic when it is loosened or loosened. And on the second day of the downpour, seven different sides of the world were reflected in the silk threads hanging with seven water droplets.
- He walked through the rainy day, but also a light dance spin. Don't mention missing, someone is going crazy.
The prequel opens with the debut of all the dazzling stars. The giant dragon in the sky, carrying everyone back to some place in the past life. As long as the next day selling in the rainy day newspaper, was wet on some corner, stood their favorite someone's face.
Already embarked on a journey to the new year, looking back to see the face of Morita Shinobu and Ginko, looking backward, want to look at what kind of people, to wait until the rain, the wind stops, can not really see.
Three months of happiness is heaven
The most pleasant, no better than the school uniform will be thrown out of the washing machine, just a clear leisure lazy, mixing food and so on the beginning of the school year. The most joyful thing is to put on the new season's school uniform, and those who have been separated from the dead for a whole vacation. The best thing about it is that it's on a sunny day.
In the middle of the semester, the school is very colorful, but after the final exam, it is the same empty silence. The school's a little bit of a place for the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young, the young.
Then the vacation ends. The campus at the beginning of the semester is another story.
A certain middle school is still bustling this year, vampire's night department, Alice's special class, OTAKU's breeding group, underage preparatory class ...... A certain so-and-so middle school opened a new store in front of the entrance of the school, the name can only be imagined, not to say, "Heaven's Kiss"; a certain so-and-so middle school, the name can only be imagined, not to say, "Heaven's Kiss! The name is "Heaven's Kisses"; there is an annoying rumor in so-and-so high school that the few Shinigami who work with aliens all day long still get top grades. It makes those burnt-out, dedicated students angry - when everyone and their readers can't see it. Sneaky book warming again. Too crafty, too crafty!
Ahem, from the student representative of so-and-so's middle school: year after year, a new semester is ushered in, and year after year, tireless efforts are made!
With the warmth of spring, everyone has become energized, no time to test the distant future, youth is short. Because February ten days country, even if there are troubles, but also contains a subtle sense of happiness.
1 Summer Feeling
Liang Heng
Filling the entire summer is a tense, passionate, urgent melody. As if a pot of cold water on the stove in the gradual bubbling, bubbling and finally boiled, the hillside grass gradually nourished into a dense thick hair, the light green smoke on the forest belt also congealed into a long wall of diaphanous color. Lightly flying and dancing bees and butterflies are not seen much, but replaced by annoying cicadas. The potential leaves of the trees between a long sound. The red sun baking a golden earth, wheat waves rolling, beating the distant mountains, clouds in the sky, beating the highway on the car, like the sea surging a ship. The golden color dominates everything in the world, and the hot wind floats across the fields, blowing the scent of ripe wheat. The spring spirit after half a year of accumulation, this time has brewed into a kind of majestic momentum, rolling in the fields, rising in the world. Summer is here. The color of summer is golden. According to the point of view of painting, this has about the reason in it. The color of spring is cold green, such as blue waves, such as young bamboo, stored full of hope; the color of autumn is hot red, such as sunset, such as red leaves, marking the end of things. Summer when the spring and fall between, naturally should be this neutral yellow date harvest of the already and hope is not yet finished, is a carry forward and back, the alternation of life in the season. You see, the wheat has just been cut, the field that picks seven or eight green leaves of cotton seedlings, that towards the sky holding up the trumpet tube of sorghum, corn, that on the ground prostrate melon seedlings, all bursting with exuberant vitality. At this time they are not in the spring breeze and rain in the fine nourishing long, but in the summer steam, fluffy, to the end of the fall for the final sprint.
[Appreciation] This article is only a few hundred words, but it can be said that contemporary prose in a rare boutique. The article starts with three metaphors, "a pot of cold water", "dense thick hair", "long wall" seems to be clumsy, but from the feeling and visual aptly reproduced the "The whole summer", "luxuriant grass", "light green smoke" characteristics, outlining the macro summer scenery. And "annoying cicadas, potential leaves between a long song" sentence, is like a group of shots of the painting outside the music. Here, the "annoying", showing the heat of summer, but never dull; leisurely overflow between the trees of the sound of the long song, reflecting the bright summer scenery, baked a "cicada noise forest over quiet" atmosphere, but also more performance of the summer earth full, heavy. Thus, in the sound and color complement each other, the real and the virtual blend, the author has set a positive tone for the whole text.
2 Summer to Weishan Lake
Li Sheng
Jumping Weishan Lake water waves to catch the waves, the endless lake surface occasionally by the water out of the village, under the shade of the willows, a blue brick house, white clouds in the depths of the vaguely visible fishing nets for miles.
Sailing to the center of the lake in a boat, you will see the clamping shore of the lake reeds beckon to you, the lake reeds swinging out of the herds of cattle and sheep, in the head down to forage for food. The hard-working farmers begin their busy day. Our canoe sails downwind on the vast lake. Flocks of ducks and geese scrambled out of their nests at the old man's yell, shrieking and jumping into the water, their wings beating against the surface. Leisurely fishermen with bare feet talk in the shade of the trees at the head of the village, and beautiful village girls with white and red skirts knead and wash their clothes on the stone platforms, looking up when they see the arrival of distant guests. If you talk to the hospitable fishermen, they will enthusiastically be your guide; if you talk to the girls, they will cheerfully joke with you. And then look around, you will find the blue as a disk of lotus leaves mixed with a little red light, a ball of snowballs, into pieces and rows of dozens of acres, hundreds of acres of appearance. The old lotus fruit with round eyes and people shaking their heads, the fisherman will smile and say, "That half-closed lotus seedpod is the best fruit to eat raw." The canoe paddled merrily across the chickpea pond, over the rhododendron pond, and out into the blank water. The long fishing nets were not in sight, and a small boat, piloted by a village girl, went through the lotus pond and sailed to the lower nets, the village girl slapping the water with the paddle in her hand and yelling in an amusing manner. The fisherman said that she had met a big fish and was rushing towards the net. The distant green hills are close, layers of trees, fruit forests all over the mountains. At the foot of the mountain, the spacious asphalt road people come and go, wide pier, rows of boats waiting.
The setting sun is like a bare-bottomed child, running into the foothills of the western sky. The village in the distance wrapped around a layer of mist, gradually blurred. The old man who shook the ferry in the river bend nagged to call it a day, and our canoe flowed away in the smoky waves, and behind us, the pale mountains, the small trees, and the near water ...... presented a golden world. (From People's Daily)
[Appreciation]The text describes the summer scenery and mood of the water town. With the lake as the center, look around, the lake and mountains as far as the eye can see, cows, sheep, ducks and geese in the painting, a picture of people living in harmony with nature in the author's wonderful pen scribble, vividly presented in front of our eyes! Under the author's pen, all things with life and without life have human feelings, such as "jumping Weishan Lake water chasing waves to catch the waves", "the lake reeds beckon to you", "the old lotus fruit with round eyes and people shaking their heads", etc., making the picture harmonious with nature. "The old lotus fruit with round eyes and people shaking their heads" and so on, so that the tone of the picture is more bright. In addition, the article with words seem to be at hand, but extremely accurate and evocative, such as "occasionally on the lake by the water out of the village" in the "TO", "swinging out of the herds of cattle and sheep" in the "swinging". and "swung" in "swung out herds of cattle and sheep".
3 Bitter Summer
Feng Jicai
This day, I finally put down my fan. The dry and refreshing wind from the sky suddenly blew my clothes up, and drilled in from the cuffs and pants, caressing my body in a slippery way. I looked at the sunlit landscape in amazement and wondered where the very hot summer of a few days ago had suddenly gone.
The seasons are the greatest beats from the universe. In every beat, the landscape changes and renews itself. The seasons also give the earth poetry, so the highly perceptive Chinese established the law in the jingju: start, carry on, turn, and merge. These four words are the essence of the seasons. The beginning is like spring, the continuation is like summer, the transformation is like fall, and the merging is winter. Together, is it not the complete round of life on earth? For this reason, all life on earth and in the world are all in accordance with this beat, whether it is the flowers, plants, insects and life and death, or the life of a hundred years of the long life. However, in the four seasons of life, the most magnificent and the most enthusiastic is not this long summer?
Women's childhood memories are scattered throughout the seasons, and men's childhood memories are mostly in the summer. This is due to the fact that our childhood companions were always a variety of insects. Dragonflies, skinks, grasshoppers, praying mantis, butterflies, cicadas, ants, earthworms, in addition to frogs and fish. They were all protagonists of summer life; each type of insect brought us endless joy. Even the details that my family and friends remember most vividly are related to insects. For example, my sister let out a particularly horrifying scream at the sight of a gecko, or the slant-eyed boy in the neighborhood who specialized in maiming dragonflies. For example, the flower-shaped hairpin on the head of one of the best-looking girls in the same class always attracted butterflies to land on it; for example, my father slept on the floor with a cooler, and actually crushed a scorpion to death by turning over in the night. This incredible thing made me feel that my father was incredibly strong. Later on, my father was beaten up, disciplined, and had to write an examination; I comforted and relieved him, fearing that he might commit suicide, and wrote an examination for him - that was one of the first things I wrote. At that point that sense of my father's power ceased to exist. Everything in life, including the thought of summer, changed.
In my happy childhood, I didn't feel any of the unbearable heat of the summer. It is only in the difficult life afterward that the taste of the bitter summer is realized. Happy to shorten the time, suffering to the years longer, like this long as if no end to the bitter summer. But I still don't like to talk about my past sufferings and trials. On the contrary, I have realized the weight of the word "bitter". Bitterness is the honey of life. All of life's harvest is pressed under this heavy bitter word. However, half of it is nothing. You use all your strength in life, but what you get in the end is a thousand miles away from what you wanted at the beginning. I'm not sure what I'm thinking about.
So I understand the bitter summer - it is not the endless torment of the heat, but our top of the poisonous sun silent and stoic bitter struggle itself. The strength of life is all given by the opponent, and that is to suck the pressure of the opponent into one's bones. The power of the strong is most of all the power of endurance. Only in the unthinkable bearing can one feel that one belongs to the strong, perhaps for this reason, a large part of my writing is in the summer. Don't many writers, including Pushkin, blossom in the crisp, pleasant fall? But every time I enter the summer heat, my writing power doubles. I think it must be the bitter summers of those heavy lives that have created this perverse habit of my character. I am all too familiar with that wonderful feeling of writing for a long time and sticking my sweaty arms to the glass of my desk.
In Vivaldi's Four Seasons, I often listen only to the "summer" chapter. It excites me more than the spring, the splendor of autumn, and the silence of winter. My friend said that the "Summer" chapter is extremely gorgeous and beautiful. I said that what I felt from it was the bitterness and hardship of summer, and even a little bit of sadness. My friend said that I had put too many of my own stories into this musical situation. I nodded and told him about my musical experience. The highest level of music transcends hearing; it's not just that it gives you, it's that you give it.
Year after year, I experience the meaning of summer in this way, resulting in a burst of passion and an angsty state of mind. With one hand, I brace myself against the rolling heat, and with the other, I write many words.
This year I also discovered that this ambrosial summer is not blown away by the fall winds, much less blown away by the fans we are given -
summer is melted away by itself. For the last moments of summer are always the extreme of its heat. I have come to understand that it is the exhaustion of all that it has to show the boundless power of summer. The joy of life is energy drenched to the fullest. But who can create, as it does, the apex of this fire-like splendor in a form of incineration?
So I am filled with the worship of summer! I want to cross the vast fall, the long winter and the distant spring in front of me in a row, and meet you once more, I want to cross the vast fall, the long winter and the distant spring in front of me in a row, and meet you once more, the supreme realm of my spirit, the bitter summer!
[Appreciation] This essay to "bitter" to summarize the "summer" taste, indeed also appropriate, but if only stay in the "bitter" level, it is bland. The author of this article certainly wrote to the summer of the bitter, but more is to write about the fun of summer, these fun and even include "my father slept on the floor of the mat, turned over at night actually crushed a scorpion," and other horror "events". Obviously, this pleasure is short-lived, the author in later years experienced countless life suffering, that is the real "bitter summer", but the author ultimately realized that it is that "bitter summer", forging the hardness and resilience of their lives. Read this kind of sentence "in the four seasons of life, the most beautiful and the most enthusiastic is not this long summer?" You will certainly have a deeper sense of life.
4Keep a quiet heart
Life is an endless sea, and man is a boat on the sea. The sea is not calm, so people are always happy and sad. When the nameless trouble attacked, disillusionment and uncertainty burned every nerve. But, my friend, don't forget to keep a quiet heart, the pain will no longer be there.
In front of everyone, there is a road to the faraway place, rugged but full of hope. Not everyone can walk to the faraway place, because there are always people who are tired and halfway there because they didn't pour out the sand in their shoes. So it is not the pleasure and pain itself that dominates one's feelings, but the mood.
When the troubles of life strike, please drop the load, look up at the bright, blue sky, and let the gentle blue color be reflected in your heart. Just like childhood play tired, find a piece of green soft grass lying down, let the sun in the face jump, let the breeze brush through the heart without folds.
When the layers of disappointment surrounded, please open the window, let the refreshing fresh air into, in the fragrant sweet smell of the earth to find a trace of tranquility, like childhood, pick up the dandelion's fine whiskers, bulging cheeks blowing open a handful of small umbrella, with the surprise of the eyes closed, make a wish. Thus, the heart will be more comfort and delight.
When the helpless despondency comes, please polish your eyes, watch the sunset sinking, and listen to the insects chirping and birds chirping. Just like childhood in the small yard to listen to the crickets chirping, look up and count the twinkling stars in the sky. Thus, all the troublesome noises gradually fade away, and what you have is a peaceful heart.
Keeping a quiet heart, you will sincerely sigh: even if I'm not happy enough, do not put a deep frown, life is short, why cultivate bitterness?
Keeping a quiet heart, you will understand that the greatness can dilute the sorrow, serenity can dispel the confusion. Yes, no one knows exactly how far away the distant, but open the window of the soul, let the happy sunshine and moonlight pour in, the quiet heart will have a never-ending song of happiness.
Keeping a tranquil heart, you can go beyond and keep challenging yourself. Even if the faraway place is forever, something will be born - a miracle. Excerpted from Youth Digest
Appreciation:
The earthly world is flamboyant and the hearts of the people are restless. Many people are bumping around like headless flies in this materialistic world, and it is hard for them to hold on to a serene heart. Because the heart is difficult to serenity, worry more, happy less; partners more, friends less; withered lamps sitting alone more, idle walk less; more depressed, less active and enterprising people ...... "calm to brighten the mind, serenity to the faraway", a good one! "The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this. Yes, only serenity, we will have an open mind, will have the courage to challenge, it is possible to step towards the peak of success. Let the heart be serene, you will become more beautiful and connotative, you will become more mature and steady, you will be tied with happiness and shake hands with success. Keep a quiet heart, also keep the whole world.