"This is my grade." The writer said-in fact, he is not worth a penny. After listening to these praises for a week, he became proud and looked forward to becoming the person with the position.
He can really be a good calligraphy teacher, and when he goes to a tea party with a white-collar tie, he really looks like a dog. But he wants to write, and he wants to crush all writers. So he wrote articles about painting and sculpture, drama and music.
he wrote a lot of terrible nonsense. When these things were badly written, he wrote them again the next day, saying that it was a typographical mistake.
In fact, what he wrote is all typographical errors, and in the discharged words (which is an unfortunate thing), people can't see the only thing he is good at-beautiful calligraphy.
"I can beat and praise. I am a great man, a little God-not too young! "
this is bullshit, but he died in it. His obituary was published in The Barlin. His friend who can write fairy tales described him very well-this is a bad thing in itself.
Although his friend's intentions are not bad, what he has done all his life-nonsense, shouting and nonsense-is still a terrible fairy tale after all.
This essay has never been published, so it is impossible to know when it was written. It was not until 1926 that it was first published in The Berlinschi Journal on April 4th of that year. The moral of this work is obvious and there is no need to explain it again.