Good sentences about beautiful scenery in Hunter's Notes

1. Beautiful scenery description passages in Hunter's Notes

In spring, a quarter of an hour before the sun sets, you go to the woods with a gun on your back and no dog. You find a spot for yourself near the edge of the woods, look around, check the cartridge caps, and wink at each other. A quarter of an hour passed. The sun has set, but it's still bright in the woods; the air is fresh and clear; the birds are chirping; the young grass shines like emeralds, and...you just wait. The interior of the forest was gradually growing dark; the red light of sunset moved slowly along the roots and trunks of the trees, rising higher and higher, from the low branches, which were almost without leaves, to the motionless, sleeping treetops.

The red sky began to turn blue. The smell of the woods becomes stronger; warm moisture is emitted slightly; the wind blowing in becomes quiet around you.

The birds fell asleep—not all at once, because sooner or later the birds fell asleep: the chaffinches fell asleep first, then the robins, then the whitebirds. It was getting darker in the woods. The trees merged into a dark mass; the first stars appeared shyly in the blue sky. The birds were all asleep. Only the red-tailed bird and the little woodpecker still made lazily whistle-like calls.

There are many rivers in Russia, like the Volga River, with mountains on one side and grasslands on the other side; the same is true for the Istar River. This small river is very winding, winding like a snake. It flows straight for less than half a mile. In some places, looking down from the steep hills, one can see the dams, ponds, mills, etc. in the basin for about ten miles. Vegetable gardens, surrounded by firecracker willows and lush orchards. There are countless fish in the Ista River, especially bigheads (farmers often catch this fish with their hands under the bushes on hot days). Some small sandbirds chirped and flew along the rugged river bank full of cold spring water; wild ducks floated to the center of the pond and looked around carefully; herons stood tall under the cliffs in the inlet. In the shadows.

I finally arrived at the Ista River, which my kind readers are already familiar with. I walked down the cliff, stepped on the moist yellow sand, and headed towards the "Berry Spring" which is famous in the surrounding areas. Go to the spring. The water gushes out from a cleft in the bank which gradually becomes a narrow and deep ravine, and flows into the river with a cheerful gushing sound at a distance of twenty paces. Dense oak jungles grew on the slopes of the ravine; the spring was surrounded by a short, velvety green meadow; the sun's rays almost never reached its cool, silvery water. I walked to the spring; there was a birch bark spoon on the grass, which was left by the passing farmers for everyone's convenience. I drank enough of the spring water, lay in the shade, and looked around. When the spring water flows into the river, it forms an inlet, so the place is often rippled. Beside the inlet, two old men sat with their backs to me.

The bitter and hot air seemed to be stagnant; the hot face was waiting for the wind sadly, but the wind did not come. The sun was shining brightly in the dark blue sky; on the shore directly opposite us, there was a field of yellow-orange oats, with wormwood growing in some places, and not even a single ear of wheat moved. Slightly lower, there is a farmer's horse standing in the river, the water is up to his knees, lazily wagging his wet tail there; sometimes a big fish floats out from under the drooping bushes, spitting out foam, slowly Slowly sinking to the bottom of the water, leaving some microwaves behind. Grasshoppers chirp in the burnt yellow grass; quails cry lazily; hawks soar steadily over the wilderness, often stopping in one place and flapping their wings quickly,

Between the old apple trees and the luxuriant gooseberry bushes, there grew round, pale green cabbages; hops spirally coiled on poles; dry peas were wrapped around small brown sticks. They stand densely in the garden; large, flat pumpkins seem to be rolling on the ground; yellow and orange cucumbers peek out from under the dusty horned leaves; tall nettles sway along the fence; there are two or three Here and there grew heaps of tartar honeysuckle, elderberry, and wild rose—relics of the old flowerbeds. Next to a small fish pond filled with red, slimy water, there was a well surrounded by puddles. Ducks splashed or waddled busily in these puddles; a dog trembled all over, squinted its eyes, and gnawed bones on the grass; a piebald cow also lazily chewed grass in the ministry, using its The tail slapped the thin back. The path turned; an old gray house with a plank roof and crooked steps emerged from behind thick firecracker willows and white birch trees.

Many stars that were hanging high in the sky not long ago are about to fall to the side of the black hole on the earth. Everything around them is quiet, just like before dawn. The silence was the same: everything was asleep, motionless, dreaming of pre-dawn dreams.

Somewhere far away, there is a single leaf on the thin treetop, quietly reflected in the blue and transparent sky, and there is another leaf beside it. The slight swaying is like a fish swaying its tail in the water. This movement of the leaves is spontaneous, not due to the blowing of the wind.

The tree trunks rise high, neatly displayed in the clear blue sky, and spread out their branches as wide and numerous as tents; harriers, green eagles, and kestrels are flying in the sky. Flying to and fro under the still treetops, the sound of chirping is endless. 2. Good words and sentences in Hunter's Notes. They should be specific to which chapter in Hunter's Notes they come from, at least ten sentences.

2. Good Sentences In the middle of the woods, on a clearing that has been carefully cleaned and renovated, stands the Hall's exclusive house.

In the yard are several pinewood houses surrounded by fences. In front of the main house, there is an open shed built with pillars. A linden wood table was clean, as if it had been scrubbed not long ago.

In the gaps between the garden trees, on the frame of the window, there are no agile tea bugs crawling around, and no cunning cockroaches hiding. Soaring over the wilderness, often stopping in one place, flapping its wings quickly, among the old apple trees and lush gooseberry bushes, there grew round, light green cabbage; Heliotrope spiral Shapely coiled on the pole; small brown sticks wrapped with dry peas stand densely in the garden; large, flat pumpkins seem to be rolling on the ground; yellow-orange cucumbers peek out from under the dusty horned leaves. come; tall nettles swayed against the hedges; and in two or three places grew heaps of tartar honeysuckle, elderberry, and wild rose—relics of the old flower-beds.

Next to a small fish pond filled with red, slimy water, there is a well surrounded by puddles. Ducks splashed or waddled busily in these puddles; a dog trembled all over, squinted its eyes, and gnawed bones on the grass; a piebald cow also lazily chewed grass in the ministry, using its The tail slapped the thin back.

The path turned; from behind thick firecracker willows and birch trees emerged an old-fashioned gray house with a plank roof and crooked steps. He was Kalinitch. His little head was slightly tilted back. His kind, dark face with pockmarks made me like him very much.

I admired his face for a long time. His expression was so soft and cheerful, just like the sky at dusk. The bitter and hot air seemed to be stagnant; the hot face was waiting for the wind sadly, but the wind did not come.

The sun was shining brightly in the dark blue sky; on the shore directly opposite us, there was a field of yellow-orange oats, with wormwood growing in some places, so much so that not even a single grain of wheat could be found. Sui didn't even waver. Slightly lower, there is a farm horse standing in the river, the water is up to its knees, lazily wagging its wet tail there; sometimes a big fish emerges from under the low shrubs, spitting out foam, and slowly wagging its wet tail. The earth sank to the bottom of the water, leaving some microwaves behind.

Grasshoppers are chirping in the burnt yellow grass; quails are chirping lazily; falcons are calmly. No matter how you feed the wolf, its heart is always towards the woods. As for Yakov, his eyes glowed like charcoal fire, his whole body trembled like leaves, and he smiled strangely.

I finally arrived at the Ista River, which my kind readers are already familiar with. I walked down the cliff, stepped on the moist yellow sand, and headed towards the Berry Spring, which is famous in the surrounding areas. Go to the spring. The water gushes out from a cleft in the bank which gradually becomes a narrow and deep ravine, and flows into the river at a distance of twenty paces with a cheerful gushing sound.

On the slopes of the valley, there are dense oak jungles; the spring is surrounded by a short, velvety grassland; the sun's rays almost never shine on its cool, silver of water. I walked to the spring; there was a birch bark spoon on the grass, which was left by the passing farmers for everyone's convenience.

I drank a lot of spring water, lay in the shade, and looked around. When the spring water flows into the river, it forms an inlet, so the place is often rippled. Beside the inlet, two old men sat with their backs to me.

The national memory is condensed at the moment when Lenin returned home, and the historical picture is fixed at the moment when the Winter Palace fell. The era of Tsarist Russia ended, the era of serfs ended, and socialism began. I stared at his face for a long time and admired it, as gentle and clear as the dusk sky.

The old sparrow used his body to cover the little sparrow, trying to save his baby. Like the Volga, many rivers in Russia have mountains on one side and grasslands on the other; the same is true for the Istar River.

This small river is very winding, winding like a snake. It flows straight for less than half a mile. In some places, looking down from the steep hills, you can see about ten miles of the river basin. of dams, ponds, mills, vegetable gardens, surrounded by firecracker willows and lush orchards. There are countless fish in the Ista River, especially bigheads (farmers often catch this fish with their hands under the bushes on hot days).

Some small sandbirds chirped and flew along the bank of the river full of cold spring water; wild ducks floated to the center of the pond and looked around carefully; herons stood tall In the shadows beneath the cliffs in the inlet. She was often hungry and looked old and sallow.

Spring is here, and happy people go far away, looking for traces of history and looking at the outside world. The red sky began to turn blue.

The smell of the woods becomes stronger; warm moisture is emitted slightly; the wind blowing in calms down around you. The birds fell asleep—not all at once, because sooner or later the birds fell asleep: the chaffinches fell asleep first, then the robins, then the whitebirds.

The woods were getting darker and darker. The trees merged into a dark mass; the first stars appeared shyly in the blue sky.

The birds all fell asleep. Only the red-tailed bird and the little woodpecker still made lazily whistle-like calls.

"I" came to a small village where only a dozen families lived. It was already dusk and the sky was getting dark. The winter in the north has always been very long, and its days are like a white horse passing by. The rough fate and hard life of serfs under Tsarist Russia. The famous Peter the Great used his unprecedented foresight to radically reform Russia's political and military affairs. He built Russia, which was originally completely closed and backward, into a Russian empire that spanned Europe and Asia and had a powerful navy and army.

A quarter of an hour passed. The sun has set, but it's still bright in the woods; the air is fresh and clear; the birds are chirping; the young grass shines like emeralds, and...you just wait.

The interior of the forest gradually became dark; the red light of the sunset slowly moved along the roots and trunks of the trees, rising higher and higher, from the low branches that had barely grown leaves to the motionless, sleeping trees. treetops. his reforms. 3. Hunters take down good sentences and appreciate them. Be sure to appreciate them. Appreciation of sentences, winter vacation homework, kneeling down

"The bodhi tree in that place is so great, so shady, and the orchids are still growing like children." There are fragrant poplar trees standing side by side from the embankment to the water, fat oak trees growing in the fertile fields, and castor trees growing in the countryside... Go there, go there, to the peaceful world. , the fields in that place were as black as velvet, and the oats in that place were everywhere, gently swaying in gentle waves, and the heavy and yellow sunlight shone down from the transparent, white and round clouds; That place is so nice..."

Did you guess "that place"? It is the beautiful Russian natural scenery described by Turgenev: the vast grasslands and fields with grains are divided into countless pieces by deep valleys and winding rivers; the jungles of birch and linden trees exude a strange beauty. The fragrance is fragrant; rare birds and animals appear in the vast forest...

"Hunter's Notes", composed of 24 independent essays, uses a fresh and simple style to reproduce the rural life in Russia under serfdom in the 19th century. A story with vivid colors. It depicts a large number of real and touching images of gentlemen, slaves, landowners and farmers, praises the noble and beautiful souls of ordinary farmers, and exposes and lashes out the cruelty and selfishness of serf owners. The profound humanitarian sentiments in it make me particularly fond of this book.

As a generation landscape master, the nature in his works is filled with poetic artistic conception, that is, pictures that we have never seen but seem to be familiar with before: the mediocre and boring old Bodhi tree will turn into a tree that will always be shaded; A vegetable garden with a variety of common vegetables will present a rich and delicious scene, with every plant and tree exuding the rich aroma of Russian soil.

Of course, the scenery is for people. After reading this book, you can see more of the Russian people's character traits and complete outlook on life. Such as Hof and Kalinich are typical serfs. One is diligent and confident, and the other is passionate and romantic. The former is close to people and society, and the latter is close to nature. Either way, they are lovable because you see in them the hope of Russia under serfdom. "Russians are always convinced of their own power and are desperate to destroy everything about themselves. He does not pay much attention to the past, but looks bravely at the future. Whatever is good is what he is happy with, and whatever is reasonable, he will go for. Accepting it, he doesn’t care where it comes from.” From Kaxiyang’s attitude towards life and death, we can feel the humanitarian ideal deeply buried in the author’s heart. Kaxiyang disapproved of the killing of animals, such as birds. "All the products of the forest, the animals in the fields, in the rivers, in the ponds, in the reeds, in the sky, in the earth - it is a sin to kill them, let them live in Live in your own realm... You shouldn't kill him; death comes naturally... No matter human beings or animals, they can't resist death. Death doesn't run around, and people can't run away either. It's not right to "die"; it's inappropriate to help "die". "The reverence for life forms the core of the humanitarianism of "Hunter's Notes".

Turgenev was a hunter with keen senses. He could distinguish different sounds and the movements of birds in the forest, and he also wrote about the vitality of the forest in his eyes with emotional writing: Willow Warbler the sound of silver bells, the flute of the oriole, and the peculiar chirping of the ringdove, known only to the hunter. These detailed descriptions fully demonstrate Turgenev's love for the forest as a realist artist, as well as his care for nature, life, and everything.

"Hunter's Notes" made me fall in love with the Russian nation. They love nature and their countryside, which gives them a more simple and natural temperament, and also makes their writing full of local flavor and The reason why nature is so poetic and picturesque. Turgenev said: Being good at using artistic tools to express the true temperament of one's country and people is the greatest happiness of every artist. It can be seen that the scenery he wrote is no longer just scenery, but also his passion, his love, his wisdom, and his unswerving beautiful ideals.

There are fights and bloodshed in the vastness of the big forest and prairie, but it is the most harmonious. This makes the people there have an extremely determined outlook on life, towards themselves, others, and all life. cherished.

Feeling the poetry from life prose and seeing flowers from the bushes - this is the biggest gain this book has brought me. 4. Hunter's Notes Good Words and Sentences

"I" picked up the shotgun and rode in a carriage, passing by the mansions and orchards of the declining nobles in the old days, and saw a few farmers working hard on the barren land beside the road. During the farming, I occasionally saw the landlord’s servant leading the hunting dog and following the owner out to hunt. "I" came to a small village with only a dozen families living in it. It was already dusk and the sky was getting dark. The winter in the north has always been very long. Its days are like a white horse passing by, and it is like the rugged serfs under the rule of Tsarist Russia. Destiny, hard life. This is a good time for hunting. There are many birds in the mountains. If you go there at this time, you will definitely come back with a full load. The person who went hunting with "me" was a servant of the landowner here. He told "me" about their life, his master, and the various reasons why he liked hunting. This is a simple narrative of "me" as a hunter.

The word "sand" was introduced from the glory of Caesar, and the "emperor" was born from the arrogant centralization of power, so there was the "tsar", a feudal system that lasted for hundreds of years. There is rank, there is nobility, there is luck and misfortune. The famous Peter the Great used his unprecedented foresight to radically reform Russia's politics and military. He built Russia, which was originally completely closed and backward, into a Russian empire that spanned Europe and Asia and had a powerful navy and army. To witness his great achievements, he built a city with his own hands - St. Petersburg. His reform tide touched almost every aspect, challenging traditions, quelling coups, and turning an "old man's country" into a powerful empire that progressed with the times. However, he never reformed serfdom, but instead increased the exploitation of peasants. , taxes, making farmers even more dire and miserable. Imagine a world where people are not even as good as their owners’ dogs. There are people who are hungry, sick, and can only wait for death. They live humble lives and have no daylight. I really hope winter will pass quickly and everyone will be happy in spring.

They all said "I" was crazy, because "I" wandered around and was often locked up in a dark room and beaten up because of being disliked by others. "I" often had nothing to eat and had to ask for help. The owner paid taxes. One day "I" passed by a vegetable garden. I was tired and hungry, so I pulled up the cabbage in the garden and ate it raw. "I" also had an old and skinny hound. "I" never fed it. , but it always followed "me" and never left. "I" often left home to hunt far away, and handed over a certain amount of prey to the owner every month. If you are lucky, you can sell the prey you kill in exchange for some wine and buy some gunpowder. "I" often get drunk and return to "my" house that seems to be about to collapse. "My" wife is very afraid of "me" "But she was always nice to "me", "I" always yelled at her, she was very poor but always gave "me" all the money she had to sell wine and food. She was often hungry and looked old and sallow. This is said in the tone of a slave. It would be great if he was a free citizen, but because he is not, he has no rights in their destiny: the right to pursue happiness, the right to eat, and the right to survive. Or perhaps, they don’t even know what rights are.

In the vast land of the Russian Empire, the cold wind was so cold that Napoleon’s army stopped in front of Moscow, declaring the failure of the Russian conquest and becoming the reason for Napoleon’s failure in the Battle of Waterloo. fuse. What's more, it's the farmers at the bottom who "have no power to restrain the chicken." Winter will pass soon. There must be many poor people praying secretly. The cold wind continues to corrode the last temperature of the poor people. Where has the sunshine gone? Why? We can't see it. The national memory is condensed at the moment when Lenin returned home, and the historical picture is fixed at the moment when the Winter Palace is captured. The era of Tsarist Russia is over, the era of serfs is over, and socialism has begun. Spring is here, and happy people go far away, looking for traces of history and looking at the outside world. The world of serfs, which had been dusty for a long time, was opened. Their world saw the sunshine again. The "parasol" of the nobles was broken by the revolutionary airflow. The sun shone from the top floor, and the shadow of feudalism withdrew its army and returned to history.

Just as people hope, they have spent the winter. In the spring, it is easy to say goodbye to the past. In the spring, happy people are also easy to be attracted to the distance, just like the length of eternity and the promise of a better future. Strength stretches and broadens limited life, making it deeper and extending to a more distant place - the future.

5. A beautiful paragraph of "Hunter's Notes" (500 words)

A beautiful paragraph of "Hunter's Notes" (537 words)

The sun is not as blazing as on a hot drought day, nor as it is before a storm. It was dim and fiery red, but so clear, bright, warm and brilliant. It rose slowly from under a narrow cloud, glowing with vivid brilliance and immersed in a lavender mist.

Sometimes the sky is covered with loose white clouds, and sometimes it suddenly clears up for a while in a few places; then a small piece of blue sky is revealed from the dispersed dark clouds, which is bright and lovely, like a beautiful bright eye.

On the long slope of the gentle hill, the green rye was gently rippling, and the faint shadows cast by a few clouds moved slowly over it. In the distance, the forest is lush and green, the pond is sparkling, the village is shining orange, and hundreds of skylarks fly up and sing, then quickly fall down, stretch their necks, and stop on the mound...

I sat, looked around, and listened. The leaves make a low noise above my head; from their noise I can tell what season it is. This is not the cheerful and trembling laughter of spring, the soft rustling and lingering chatter of summer, nor the shy and cold muttering of late autumn. This is a kind of sleepy chatter that is rare to hear clearly.

What a beautiful view you have from the mountain! The round, low hills that have all been cultivated rise and fall like huge waves; the valleys covered with bushes meander in the middle of the hills; patches of small jungles are scattered like oval islands; narrow Paths lead from one village to another; there are white chapels here and there; a sparkling stream emerges from among the willow bushes, and is dammed in four places; in the distance, there is a line of wild geese standing side by side in the field; On a small pond, there is an old landowner's mansion, with some mixed-use buildings, an orchard and a threshing floor. 6. Wonderful passages from Hunter's Notes

Many stars that were hanging high in the sky not long ago are about to fall to the side of the black hole in the earth, and everything around them is quiet. , just like the usual silence before dawn: everything fell into a deep sleep, motionless and dreaming of pre-dawn dreams.

Good quotes from "Hunter's Notes":

No matter how you feed the wolf, its heart will always be towards the woods.

I stared at his face for a long time, admiring it, as gentle and clear as the dusk sky.

All misfortunes are bearable, and there is no obstacle in the world that cannot be overcome.

I followed him to the living room. On the couch in the center was a short old lady, wearing brown clothes and a white hat. Her face was kind and thin, and her eyes were shrinking. sad.

But in his eyes, in his smile, in his whole posture, there was a very moving force lurking, indeed lurking.

As for Yakov, his eyes glowed like charcoal fire, his whole body trembled like leaves, and he smiled strangely.

We drank honey stirred with spring water. The moist and transparent honey was fragrant and sweet, and we fell asleep amidst the monotonous buzzing of bees and the low whisper of leaves... …

He is cautious, but at the same time as clever as a fox; he likes to chatter like an old woman, but he never lets his words slip, but he can make others speak out their innermost thoughts.

Somewhere far away, there is a single leaf on the thin treetop, quietly reflected in the blue and transparent sky. Next to it, there is another leaf shaking gently, as if a fish is flying. The tail is waving in the water, and this movement of the leaves is spontaneous, not due to the blowing of the wind.

Many stars that were hanging high in the sky not long ago are about to fall to the side of the black hole of the earth. Everything around is quiet, just like the silence before dawn: everything is sleeping deeply. He fell asleep, motionless, dreaming about the pre-dawn dream.

The tree trunks rise high, neatly displayed in the clear blue sky, and spread out their branches as wide and numerous as tents; harriers, green eagles, and kestrels fly under the still treetops. Flying back and forth, the chirping sound is endless.

Soon, the sun set, but it was still very bright in the woods, the air was fresh and clear, the birds were chirping, and the young grass glowed with pleasing colors like emeralds...

< p> Our dogs sniffed their new friend with the usual Chinese ritual peculiar to their breed. The new friend was obviously frightened, tail dropped, ears cocked, teeth bared, legs straightened, whole body Spin quickly.