Zheng: Cherish books, love books and other related poems! ! !

Everything expensive in the world is priceless. [Tang] Wang Fanzhi

A good book is a good friend and never leaves.

My husband has thousands of books, so why not pretend to be a hundred cities in the south? [Tang] li yanshou

The poor are rich because of books, and the rich are expensive because of books. [Song] Wang Anshi

In the book, people are as affectionate as ever, and every blind date is a mixture of sadness and joy in the morning. There are three thousand words in front of me, but there is no dust in my heart. Yu Qian

It is better to accumulate wealth and grain than to accumulate virtue, and it is better to buy fields and land than to buy books.

Only books are colorful; But literature is rich and beautiful, and it is beautiful in the Baihui. [Tang] Pi Rixiu

Although the book is ancient, the Tao is always new. [Ming] Xue Xuan

The ancients loved books/Tianya community

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The drizzle is morning, and half a bed of flowers and rain is accompanied by books.

Hazy is dreaming of homesickness and the sound of chess next door is stiff.

Sit up and warm the classics, such as listening to the sound of books in the quiet night.

Brahma sang proudly as if the old monk were an actor.

Birds are singing in Chu Qing, the courtyard is quiet, the flowers are overflowing and the trees are sparse.

The sky is full of mountains and the ground is like a house full of books.

Several huts are hedged, and mangroves reflect Bixi irregularly.

There is also a secluded reading room, and the sunset shines deep on the west of Banqiao.

Outside the city, it rained for three days and there was a book in front of it.

When you open a book, the ancients see it in their eyes and don't care if they close the door.

It's not easy to make it clear, and you have to leave a residual book.

People are vulgar, not officials. How can I become an excellent official and how can I learn?

Jin San studied, and the shelves were full of beautiful things.

Five lakes smoke and water, three rivers in January, a window with several volumes of books.

There are three rooms in the old house near the water bank, but the bookstall is full of joy.

Hiding a few curtains is like meditation, but I am worried about revisiting the remnants of my hometown.

Ten thousand volumes disappear forever, and a window faintly sends the fleeting time.

When was the book buried? It is better to give up and look for spring.

Closed doors are deep mountains, and reading is a paradise everywhere.

Books are really rich, but nothing is immortal.

If you don't study for a day, you will feel guilty.

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