From a distance, a ginkgo tree stood there quietly. This is a vicissitudes of life tree, with bony branches. Approaching him, touching the rough branches, dark brown, the years passed by little by little, and on the rough branches, time mercilessly carved a stain.
Standing under the tree, looking up, the yellow leaves are slowly falling from the branches, and several branches that are about to break are teetering on the branches, struggling for the last breath of life. Looking at it, I suddenly found a small tree next to the big tree. The small tree has green branches and golden leaves. Under the sunshine, it looks full of vitality and all the beautiful scenes. I think: this may be the feeling between big trees and small trees!
This feeling makes the big tree shelter the small tree from the wind and rain, and makes the small tree grow healthier and happier; This feeling makes the young tree depend on the big tree and gives the young tree a sense of security that it has never had before; This kind of feeling makes the big tree no longer pity his love and dedicate all his feelings to the little tree. This feeling is great and selfless, and every big tree should be dedicated to small trees. But the little tree never wants to come back. A tree, the trunk is full of traces of years; Branches are full of small life; There are countless lives in the leaves. I stood under the tree, quietly admiring its beauty.
This feeling is like a mother's love for her child. Mothers go out early and come back late in order to let their children eat well, dress well and live a better life, but children don't know their mother's good intentions. Looking at the deep wrinkles around my mother's eyes, touching the cocoon on my mother's hand because of hard work, and then looking at the wisps of white hair that my mother gave birth to because she was worried about us. I couldn't help crying, because I saw the scene of "big trees and small trees" again.
Write a composition, the topic is to give a monkey a tree and a tiger a mountain. There are no useless people and no perfect people in this world. The development of people's physical quality, skills and intelligence is unbalanced, and they all have their own advantages and disadvantages, strengths and weaknesses, strengths and weaknesses. In the course of life, once a person discovers his own strengths, advantages and strengths, and makes every effort to give full play to them, he is expected to achieve amazing achievements. If we borrow a proverb to express this truth, it is: give a monkey a tree and a tiger a mountain. It is said that at a business gathering, a boss threatened to fire three of his incompetent employees. They are: Wang Wu, who is picky all day; Liu Zhao, he is always worried about accidents in the factory; Richie likes to chat with God. Another boss smiled and said, "Just give it to me!" The former boss agreed generously. The next day, three people reported to the new company. The new boss ordered: "Your three tasks are: Wang Wu is in charge of quality management, Liu Zhao is in charge of company safety, and Li Qi goes outside to sell goods." Hearing this, the three men gladly took office. Thanks to the creative work of three people, the company's profits soared quickly. It is really handy for monkeys to climb trees; Let the town mountain belonging to the tiger be really lush.
Should the composition be published in appreciation or handed over to the teacher? Why not elaborate on it? 8 145256 18
Ten people write a composition on a tree. Charity is priceless.
Today, I saw the article "The truth that the asking price of corpses is questioned leads to moral thinking", and my heart was very uneven.
The words and deeds of Wang Shouhai, Chen Bo and others make people very angry. They ignored the students in the water for profit. Does it have to be profitable to do good in the world? My mother taught us to be helpful when we were young, but you don't even want to follow this moral law. What else can you keep? You see, all the classmates of the deceased knelt down for you, but you are counting money there with a clear conscience, aren't you afraid of being condemned by your conscience? It is really "the heart is not ancient." How many people are interested in money and status? I thought this kind of thing wouldn't happen to you, but you did it blatantly. I despise you!
There is a little boy who sells newspapers. He didn't sell any newspapers. He is hungry and wants to eat. When he knocked at the door, he was a little at a loss because it was a beautiful girl who opened the door. He asked her for a glass of water. She rudely gave him a glass of milk. "How much does it cost?" He asked. "No money," said the girl. "Mother taught us to do good without expecting anything in return."
Many years later, the girl got a rare disease and was transferred to a big city for expert consultation. After being cured, she was afraid to open the ledger because she knew it would cost a lot of money. She summoned up the courage to open it. At the end of the bill, it says, "medical expenses = a glass of milk, Dr. Keller."
Good deeds are priceless. In this world, there are countless such examples. Let's help others with kindness, not "business vision"!
There is a little rabbit in my home, which my father brought the other day.
Its hair is gray and furry. I named it Cinderella. A pair of big red eyes are like two rubies. It also has an active three-valve mouth, two at the top and one at the bottom. With two big teeth in his mouth, he can bite hard. There are slender beards on both sides of the mouth. Its two long ears are always upright, and it looks full of vitality and pride. It skipped along and was very active. Its tail is short and round, moving around like a fluffy ball. It was fun!
Although it looks cute, it is very picky about food.
Every day after school, I will cut some grass for rabbits to eat. As this is the first time to raise rabbits, I cut some of each grass, thinking that rabbits like to eat. As soon as I got home, I hurried to feed the rabbit. I saw the rabbit smell every grass, but only ate one. I thought to myself, this guy is really picky about food.
Rabbits are not only picky eaters, but also have bad habits of defecating everywhere. As long as you are full, you will pull a little every time you jump, and then you will pull a little every time you jump ... making rabbit shit everywhere, especially dirty. Mother had to lock it up and not let it go out.
Rabbits are smart, too. Its house is made of cardboard boxes. Whenever we are not at home, the rabbit will bite a small hole in the carton and get out. We can't find it. Mother mended the small hole with tape many times, and finally decided to take the rabbit to grandma's house. I'm sad, I can't bear to leave my little rabbit. But seeing the balcony stained by rabbits, I had to send it away.
This is my "Cinderella", a cute, naughty, smart and picky bunny. I like it very much.
10 Can people write a composition on a tree? Can the final exam test whether the knowledge students have learned this semester is solid? What are the loopholes and shortcomings? It is convenient for us to sum up experiences and lessons and make plans for next semester's study.
So, how should we meet the final exam?
First of all, for unfinished courses, we must listen carefully in class, preview before class, review after class, and conscientiously complete the homework assigned by the teacher to consolidate the knowledge we have learned.
Secondly, we should arrange the review time reasonably, and arrange the review time in a planned way on the premise of completing the homework. Ask the teacher or classmates if you don't understand, and don't let go of any difficulties and doubts.
Then, when the teacher leads us to review, we must listen carefully and stick to the teacher's ideas, which will achieve twice the result with half the effort. Besides, creating a good learning atmosphere can urge us to study hard and help us get good grades.
How to write the composition "I am a tree" (480 words) If I were a tree, I would grow on the roadside. When the sun is scorching the earth, I would like to keep out the sun for pedestrians; When it rains cats and dogs, I would like to hold up a big umbrella for unprepared passers-by; When the sandstorm attacks people, I will fight it to the death. When ~ ~ ~ ~ I will ~ ~ ~
If I were a tree, I would grow in the vast desert. When the desert wind is unbridled, I am willing to block the attack of the wind with my tall and straight body. When the arrogant sandstorm marches again, I am willing to hold the center of the earth with my roots. Even if I am black and blue, I will never let the sandstorm engulf our lovely home.
If I were a tree, I would grow on the Loess Plateau. When the merciless flood floods again, I will fight it to the end with my own roots. Even if I sacrifice myself, I will never let the loess on the plateau be washed away by the flood. When people on the plateau walk on the rugged road, I send people a piece of green comfort.
If I were a tree, I would grow by the river. I will use my life to protect the levee, and I will never let the flood rush through it. Because I can't let the flood engulf the lovely home of mankind, and I can't let the flood engulf the lovely life.
If I were a tree, I would grow up in the campus, in the community and in the park. When the sun is very hot, I want to be a pavilion and amusement park for students, the elderly and children. I heard that Lang in the school was reprinted from the percentage network: oh 100. Please keep this mark lang's reading voice. I seem to see the hope of the future; Hearing the old people talking about the past, I seem to feel the passage of time; Hearing the children's cheerful play, I seem to have returned to my childhood like a kaleidoscope.
If I were a tree, I would pass by businessmen, people who go to work, people who buy food, and skipping children. I even take in homeless people. I can see that the world is developing rapidly, for years, decades or even hundreds of years.
If I were an apple tree, my shy fruit would make the garden colorful, bees and butterflies would fly up and down happily in the garden, and a girl wearing a beautiful headscarf would go under the tree and hold hands with her lover, and their faces would be printed with the joy of harvest. How I envy that human beings have beautiful love, soul-to-soul collision, people love because of understanding, and understand because of love. This feeling is so subtle, subtle and complicated. Unfortunately, I am a tree without soul. I only hear my leaves rustling in the wind, but I can't hear the voice of crying and joy for love. People love us, but they don't know that I am more eager to experience all human emotions.
In short, as long as I am a tree, I will send green blessings to mankind. I looked up in the storm, but the snow and ice couldn't help me. There are countless stories left in the green leaves, which are the notes of love, the wind is my song, and the clouds are my steps. I didn't complain about how much shade I spilled on the earth, as long as I was a tree.
If there is an afterlife, I want to be a tree, standing forever, without a sad or joyful gesture, half flying in the wind, half peaceful in the soil, half bathed in the sun, half in the shade, so humble and so proud, never relying on it and never looking for it.
The word "reincarnation" always reminds me of all the details in my heart. If there is reincarnation in the world, I am no longer me in the afterlife, I am a tree.
If I can, I would like to be a willow tree, flying my infinite affection on the Jiangnan Lake in March. I want to watch quietly, watch my friends say goodbye, break my soft branches, and pin my hopes on the voice of reluctance and cherish; Look at the woman's longing for her return, and tell her thoughts and expectations according to my strong bones. I want to listen quietly, listen to Ling Ge's moving smile, listen to Jiangnan minor, listen to parting, and listen to Plum Yellow Rain. I want to sing softly, just like those little songs that are no longer green and bright. Little by little, they become vast and dignified in the precipitation of years, turning the crying tone into a poem left to people in a whisper. I want to fly in the wind, take the words of the world far away, take the wanderer away, and bring warmth and warmth.
If I can, I want to be a Hu Yangshu and watch it alone in the vast desert. My branches withered, and I lost the beauty of red apricots, the fragrance of Sophora japonica and the fruit of pear trees. I'm just an ugly Populus euphratica. I have no company. In that dusty place, only occasional travelers pass by. Their skin is chapped and their hands and faces are dirty, but their hearts are clean and firm. I have been learning from those brave people. My roots are thick and hard. They hold fast to the sand and let me stand in the wind forever, tortuous but strong. I want to get peace in the soil, and I want to quietly guard the barren land of the desert, which is my life's watch.
If I can, I want to be a small tree, facing the sun, thriving, not lush, not dense, but paying tribute to the sun every day, watching the flowers and grass on the ground stretch their muscles and showing a bright smile in the sun. So I also smiled. My green leaves opened their mouths and tried to breathe the sunshine, which was a little full and deep. It really takes a long time to have traces of time, such as detailed traces of context. I want to bathe in the sun, I want to suck nectar, I want to grow taller, and I want to grow old with toddlers.
If I can, I will make an ancient camphor tree, stand on both sides of the road, cut a large area of sunshine with my dense camphor tree leaves, and drop small pieces of fragmentary sky. My trunk smells of camphor wood, and there may be a hole for young people to tell secrets. It's warm and warm, and it smells like home. I want to shelter the world from the wind and rain and bring it a little coolness in the hot summer. I want the old man to take out the cane chair at night, sit under me, close his eyes leisurely and think about the glory of the past.
I want to be a tree, ubiquitous, so humble, ever-changing, so proud.
I want to be a tree, so gentle and so strong.
If there is an afterlife, I want to be a tree, standing in eternity, without the gesture of sadness and joy, half flying in the wind, half peaceful in the soil, half bathed in sunshine, half scattered in the shade, so humble and so proud, never relying on and never looking for it.
How to write life as a tree, it is like a tree. I am an ordinary person, just like an ordinary seed. At the moment I was born, I didn't know how to remember and be grateful. I was buried deep under the thick soil layer, absorbing nutrients that I could never ingest, anxiously and hopefully waiting for the day when I broke out of my shell and ushered in the first light of dawn. Before that, I didn't know much about my growing environment. It was not until I rushed out of the fertile soil that I suddenly realized that I was on the top of a cliff. I began to envy-the life under the cliff is so safe and comfortable, and the life on the cliff is always condescending and comfortable. But the slender stems struggled in vain, and I was unable to break away from the fertile soil but locked it firmly, unable to bury the fertile soil again. Let life have a second reincarnation in an instant. Finally, I understand that wishful thinking is just an endless consumption of life, so I choose to stand on this pure land and stand on my own feet. Fight for yourself with infinite awe and expectation of life. But God didn't give me more attachment, and I didn't get more extra surprises except at the fairest time. I bear the sunshine and rain, no matter when and where; Endure the storm and risk dying too easily; Indulge in the gloom of the continuous drizzle; I'm sad, I'm hurt, I'm in pain, but after crying, I'm proud of myself after all-I didn't cowardly escape the responsibility that God gave me when he gave me life. In these growing days, I am painful and happy. The scenery of the four seasons hangs in front of my window, and the years change in my heart. In the process of time flowing and disappearing, I always accumulate strength invisibly and seal it for a long time. I'm still full of longing. Until now, I have stood straight. Whether the world has changed me or I have changed the world, it is hard not to succumb to a force called "the power of silence" in such a hurry. Finally, the buds can be pulled out in early spring, and the greenery is full of branches; Summer can be lush; You can dance in the wilderness in late autumn and reshape your life; You can go bald in the cold winter and still hide the beautiful face of the years. Life is like the growth of this tree. The weak are doomed to die and be eliminated. Only those who grow up fearlessly can truly have a seemingly ordinary but great life.
Write a Chinese composition on the topic of every grass I admire most. Sometimes, I want to be a grass, and I can watch the rush of spring, summer, autumn and winter quietly, and feel something similar to human beings from this rush.
In a season when everything is revived, Mother Earth gave birth to me. I tried to dig out the soil and enjoy the fresh air in this world. There are many grass buds around me, all of which, like me, have just emerged from my mother's land. When the weather gets warmer, we are a green lawn full of spring vitality. Mother Earth woke us up from our sleep, and let us come into this world and feel a life different from that on land. Grandpa Sun made us feel warm, and we grew up in the love that Grandpa Sun gave us. Sister Chun sent a soft spring breeze. Let's stretch and dance happily. We feel that all relatives who help us grow up should be satisfied. We are so beautiful, how many pedestrians attract our attention, and how many children are playing happily on us.
We also began to compare who grew faster and taller and who was greener ... At that time, we were full of confidence, and many companions proudly said, "I must be the best."
We gradually become conceited and feel that everything in the world loves us. We are the most beautiful, the happiest and the best in the world.
Spring is already strong, and flowers are dancing and competing to open. The fragrance is dazzling and completely absorbed in it. Red as fire and pink as chardonnay, even the green leaves that don't bloom are more stylish than us. We suddenly found that we are not unique, no, no, we are not ordinary at all. We always hide humbly by the flowers, as if we were making a foil. "No one will appreciate us and love us." The companion groaned, and he didn't have the usual confidence.
In the hot summer, animals spit out their long tongues, but flowers are blooming, roses are delicate and charming, lotus flowers are slim and graceful, and jasmine is fragrant. There is a strong fragrance all around, but we have no intention to smell this flower. Cicada squeaks endlessly in the tree, humiliating our smallness. Of course, we can't have any problems with cicadas, because we know that we are not qualified to grow up in big trees. When we are sad, the melody of rain will untie our sadness, listen to the melody of rain and spend this hot summer.
In the golden autumn of October, the cicada song fades away, the mother earth is covered with a golden coat, and the trees are full of fruits, which is a scene of bumper harvest. However, in that spring and summer period, colorful flowers gradually withered, and now it is a miserable green. "Korea sells green leaves, and the west wind worries about green waves. And dawn is also awkward and ugly. " I think the earth is going to sleep again.
Winter is coming, geese fly south, animals sleep, flowers curtain call early, and children sleep in warm quilts at home. Everything is dull. Until the winter of December, a lonely tree stood. This is wintersweet. The north wind roared in the lonely land, and countless lives used negative things to avoid all the cold. Plum blossoms, on the other hand, spread their bare branches without fear, and plucked countless small buds from the bare branches. A cold wind made them tremble, and another severe frost wrapped them. They bravely showed the world that not all flowers are delicate, not all flowers need to be hidden in greenhouses, and not all flowers can't overcome setbacks. Remember, in the harsh winter when everything is dying, there is a kind of plum blossom frost and snow. How strong she is, never flinching in the face of difficulties, and victory is in sight. Beat the cold, but also beat countless great poets, let them write all kinds of famous sentences about plum blossoms. Her fragrance deeply intoxicated all the people who enjoyed the flowers, intoxicated. ...
I really want to learn from Meihua. She is so strong and beautiful that human beings need to learn her spirit. If we know how to face and overcome it, what is there to be afraid of? You know, some things are inevitable. The only way to overcome the difficulties is that Meihua really understands.