Poetic and picturesque aesthetic quotations
The following are my aesthetic quotations, welcome to refer to them!
Love is sent to each other, the boat is moored on the shore, speechless and choked up, the mist covers the eyes, the flowers are colorful, the fishing songs are late, the geese are lonely and lonely, the world is boundless, the heart palpitations are dim, the calyx is silent, the return date is faint, the true feelings call each other, the lovesickness is gone, the dreams are endless, and the three stones are on the side, clanking vows, not paying off your heart,
a wisp of smoke rises in a curl, dragonflies water and catkins fly. If the floating life is a dream, it is as quiet as water, without asking about feelings and worries. I only wish you a good life, past life and bitterness in this life. No matter rain or snow, I just want to be plain and drunk, to fill my half-life displacement, and to say goodbye to my whole life. Peeling off and covered with scars, waiting for the phoenix to nirvana, wishing to be bleak and send a piece of paper, wishing this life to be with clothes.
Be a prosperous master and listen to prosperous songs. Painful lovesickness has ignited another kind of loneliness, and the love that has been bumpy for several generations will eventually stop in the painting of parting. The beautiful parting long shadow has opened our distance. On this shore, you are on the other side of the river, and I can only say hello to you through the fog. You insist on stepping on my heart and then leave.
Cordyceps sinensis, acacia wine, a dream in the late Qing Dynasty; Look at the present, drunk last night, but look at the beauty smile. A few affectionate, all troubled, all empty and melancholy; I am worried about rising, laughing between pools, and binge drinking on the moon. Sigh late today, meet again for a long time, and the world is hard to break; For nine days, the clouds are moving, and indifference is empty. Flying sand, slightly dew condensation, birds singing in the morning; Loose and energetic, feeling like the world, laughing and provoking the world of mortals.
The waterside pavilions and terraces are a continuation of the lingering fate of misty rain and floating dust, with a curtain of brocade and mourning, and the blue shirt is inexperienced in customs. Break the song to the sky, the sound of the flute is drunk and the crane is singing, the spring blossoms between the eyebrows, the red makeup is beautiful, the bones are clear, and the world is not flattering. The sand is passing by and laughing, the wine is dipped in ink, and the sea is overlooked, and the clouds are smooth and the scenery is bleak. Looking straight at the winding path, the dust is dancing, and the strategy is suddenly leaping.
the ground is covered with broken flowers, and the stars and the moon are shining, and one side is beautiful and graceful. After stepping on the clear moon, flying flowers are everywhere, and chivalrous people in the rivers and lakes stand up. Drinking and talking about poetry, dancing sword under the moon, elegant woman, passionate son. At one time for several months, why do you need to taste the family of the ethical code and leave the sorrow? It's acacia, but it can't resist the impermanence of the world and make people old.
I am calm, strolling through the chapters of my memory, reading the fragments of the fleeting time, and the words are blooming at the tip of my pen, which is wonderful and warm. Listening to the wind at dusk, waiting for the moon in the setting sun, carrying a ray of prosperity like a dream, holding a ray of acacia to sleep. Indigo misty rain, ink color Jiangnan, idle watching the moon white and clear, but the clouds are fleeting. On the stranger, the cicada kept silent, watching the prosperity fall, and in the wind, the original intention was pale. Fade the madness, fade the madness, and the years have scratched a shallow wound on the forehead.
the willow flute in the pavilion is like autumn water singing. Flowers fade away, like the wind without a trace. Quietly leaning on the railing, the light moon shines faintly, and the bleak past sings the east fence. When the night is silent, the wind shakes the candle and the shadow is red. The moonlight is bright in the west wing of a window, and you can't escape the loneliness and lock the clear autumn. The cool breeze drips like water, rippling a little, swaying my mind shallowly, and I quietly listen to the whisper of a fallen flower.
who is wandering by the buildings and who is waiting by the ancient road. Looking back for a thousand years, a hundred years of loneliness. Lonely who with, lonely who * * *. Past life's brush shoulder, this life's meeting. Love flies in the wind, and love plays in the rain. Once wishful thinking, once crazy in love, wake up with the wind. At this moment: love is speechless, and love is silent. Tears wet my eyes and filled my heart.
a look, a heartbeat, an unexpected happiness. I met you when it was not the flower season. You woke my throbbing heart like a spring breeze, and threw a touch of gorgeous brilliance into my quiet life, which was unstoppable by boiling thoughts. When you hold this beauty in the warm palm, your heart is pounding, because you are intoxicated at this time.
autumn is divided into three parts, one is falling flowers, and the other is the world of mortals. Fine aftertaste, but a dream in vain. Lonely lights and shadows, Leng Yue is like frost. When I dream about it, my tears will flow lightly, like water eyes, my lips will light up, and a melody will intoxicate me. Spring has gone, autumn will be over, how sad the wind and rain are, the wild geese return to the south, the people have not returned, and the rain is falling in the depths of the fallen flowers. Looking back, it seems that the road is bleak, the night rain is dim, and the light will be low. It is only a few ethereal dreams outside the dream, and how much sorrow.
Walking along the banks of the river, watching the bleak clouds under the moon pour out the sorrow of the world, the smoke cage is cold and the moon is full of sand, and the boat moored in Qinhuai has passed away, making a light shadow under the moon, dreaming of the Chinese New Year. Sitting alone at the entrance of the attic, watching the dust and hoofs of the road, there is no scene when you come.
April of wheatgrass is filled with poetic dreams. With a warm and comfortable feeling, I walked along the beautiful coastline of the years, looked up and looked up, and the blue nature was dyed into a continuous picture. In the swaying of the breeze, I was full of quiet feelings, dancing gracefully and remembering the eternal youth.
fleeting time, simple, love, unchanged. Choose a bright green zone, take a breeze, twist a heart fragrance, hold a touch of warm sun, pick a wisp of smoke, follow the rhythm of the heart, invite Tang poetry and Song poetry, invite the morning dew and dusk, and dance together to give birth to living colors. Not far away, you smile, look fresh, clear eyes full of deep affection, watching, silent and carefree, speechless and dreamy.
There are seven strings on the piano. The mind is in harmony, and the bullet seeks to burn. I owe it to Xi, and I am soaring. Xuanyuan worships the earth and thrives without borders. You think about your heart, and you are crazy about your beauty, and you are nervous. The finger is the last song, and the sound is ringing. The seven strings are sorrowful and sorrowful.
light a heart lamp, retreat to the square inch, write a watch at the edge of the sky, and the repeated shouts grow wildly along the thread of missing. Unforgettable warmth and memory in this life, dignified into vermilion with red chest, dipped in faint ink, carefully sketched, and filled the most beautiful love in this life with warm poems with true feelings? .
life is a choice, and it is also a kind of giving up. People who can choose freely are happy, and the heart that can give up moderately is free and easy. Unfortunately, sometimes our choice is only to wait, and there is no result, so we can only leave sadly; Sometimes we give up, forced to turn around with tears, and look back frequently after we have gone far. Therefore, some of the past, about happiness or pain, can only be buried deep in my heart; Some hopes, about the present or the future, can only be forgotten slowly.
In this world, we will meet each other when we pass by in a hurry. When we meet, we know each other. After we meet, we know each other. Meeting is fate, knowing each other is fate, and knowing each other is fate. But fate comes like a dream, and fate goes like the wind. What you can let go is a good fate, and what you can't let go becomes a disaster. After a thousand turns, we will correct the entanglement, and what we can't escape will have to come, and what we can escape will come and go. The fate is endless, the feelings are still stupid, and the heart is still beating; The fate is over, and the heart is too tired. It is better to let go and go our separate ways.
whose figure disturbed the ink of the poem stained with heartfelt words? The pain of living in words cuts off insomnia! Tears danced and tapped every corner of the night. The' residual cherry blossoms' that drizzled down, like countless vows, were smeared with blood by the setting sun, unable to carry the burden of commitment, and scattered in the cold moonlight, lonely and sad.
We are all a group of sad children. Only by listening to each other's heartbeats in words can we not break the heart that keeps shaking in youth. Whenever I hit the keyboard, I can't put pen to paper. I can't find any words to describe the sense of alienation from the world. Those hurried youth, those profound people and things, what should I take to recall those fleeting years?
once, you held my hand and said to walk with me, no matter what the future is, we will always be us. At that time, I thought it was really possible to hold your hand and grow old with your son. At that time, I thought that happiness would belong to me. At that time, for you, I broke my wings, didn't dream, didn't fly, and only hoped that I could stay, just like this, waiting for you and continuing the story that only we knew.
after all, love is like a bone, and the heart is like a firm one. wet dream's beauty is not sad. In the end, the fate is like the wind, the feelings are like water, and the soul is broken. For whom to pursue the free sky? For whom do you dream together? Fantasize about a infatuation for who? Who is infatuated with for life? How helpless is it to turn around? How many thoughts have you lost? Accompanied by this life, who met a romantic lingering for me? Three generations of bone erosion, a dream for a thousand years, who will perform a love that will last forever for me?
The long journey of life can't be left without the scattered separation of time. The years will pass by little by little, and you can watch the years turn to evening and smell the flowers to warm you up. Give time a shallow look back; Give yourself a smile calmly. Precipitation, fragrant; Read, warm.
strangers who have passed by, just for that, a word out of context, a mirror empty memory, a dream focused, then let the years pass without trace. When love returns, it has its own place. Those who taste it shallowly, get lost in the eyes, and those who taste it deeply, get into the marrow and get the heart. A little beauty turns into a butterfly and corrects the knot. Delicate old feelings, turned into tears, pure as dust. A faint dream, falling into dust, smells as good as ever.
Loneliness is like fragrance, and the Chinese New Year is like a dream. On the day of September, there is a hazy drizzle, and the feeling of acacia pervades this sad season. The evening breeze blows my thin figure and permeates my heart. Prosperous blue sky, empty dreams. Listening to a sad melody in the years, lonely notes are blown up on my fingers, as if every beat is flowing with unique tears, which breaks the sadness all over the place and sings me how much helplessness and sadness.
the world of mortals is exhausted, and the distance is near, and the heart is at the end of the world. How many poems and lyrics, a song with three sighs, lingering sound, thin shadows and faint fragrance, and clear music, like a dream melody. Touching the heartstrings, the heart * * * sounds, instantly setting off red berries. The flame burns the secret music square, which is constant and changeable, and it is beautiful and cold. Tears in the rain, a lifetime of love, a drop of tears in the world of mortals.
those deep and shallow intersections are just the imprint of a time that needs no interpretation. The sky is getting dark. The wind blows, the rain tilts and is wet. Such as water in March, a person quietly waiting for a beautiful encounter. The past is lush, like the cheeks of the past, picking up the dreams left in my mind, let me miss you in a quiet dream and let myself detour alone in my dreams. Cut a short time and listen to the whispers in your dreams.
on that day, you were the end of the world, and I was the cape, facing each other in pairs, unable to rely on each other for despair; At that time, you were the bright moon, and I was the clear spring, which were inseparable and could not be intertwined; In that life, you were by the Qingshui River and I was by the Naihe Bridge. Your shallow brow, deep call, my faint eyes, deep affection. After all, we are not fairy tales. With you, we are just cartoons that I missed all my life.
At that time, the years were quiet and beautiful, and I looked through a river of autumn water. However, the winter snow withered, and I was lonely and cuddled all my life. The years washed my heart, and I became a stranger's reincarnation. The flowers on the other side have fallen, and the most important thing is to miss each other. I am waiting for loneliness for thousands of years, and my heart is hard to get drunk. Hugh also said that when you feel palpitation, you can't escape it. You can't escape it at first sight. You promised each other. Hugh also said that you love to the end of your life, but it was replaced by that goodbye, and each other was lost.
passionate and affectionate. Love the field, print two hearts. Fighting against the worldly dust, the flying eagle is more and more relieved. Your kindness makes me crazy. So charming, so pitiful. Small hands embrace each other and tender feelings cling to each other. The lingering embroidery covers the spring scenery. A smile is your heart, and a word warms my heart. Looking back on the unfinished fate of previous lives, I shed tears and blamed Meng Po. Misfulfill the wishes of several generations of buddhas. Yuanyang's neck is empty. Hate is endless. ;