Lyrical prose takes the expression of subjective emotions as its starting point and is known for its ethereal and elegant style. The focus is on the use of language to accurately express emotional colors. Below I have brought you classic lyrical prose for your enjoyment. Lyrical classic prose (1)
I don’t know where to start from, which far refers to the lack of trust between people. Especially in today's social zipper, many people have thrown away their trust...
I chatted with my friend Zizier on the weekends, where I talked about everything in the zipper group. There is the zipper of their single group personnel department. Unexpectedly, a branch was established in Dalian, so a group of colleagues in the local zipper, Yan Yan, were responsible for the personnel work, so my friend wanted to talk to them about the company's salary records. HR people who have been in charge of the salary module all know that salary records are relatively vague, especially when those colleagues are newly rescued employees, so my friend explained it there very seriously. Unexpectedly, both of them are born in the 1980s, so they are very fast without fists and courage. My friend took all the details, even the formula settings, and helped him find problems and correct them in a timely manner.
The whole process went smoothly. After a period of time, new colleague Yan Yan will be able to handle various HR tasks of the branch independently. I previously thought that Zipper Yanyan might be able to get started with zippers. My friend’s salary was recorded at Zizier in the first and second months.
In the third month, my friend completed the work of recording his headquarters, so he asked Yanyan with concern. At first, Yanyan said: "It's still early, there is no rush." My friend said: "If there are not enough records about women, zippers will affect employees' wages." So, Yanyan said: "I don't do zippers, so let me count on women's zippers." My friend was helpless, so he told there that the woman herself Sooner or later, zippers are necessary. Didn’t I teach female generals about zippers before? I can give guidance to girls who don’t zippers. Yanyan said: "Then I'll save it myself." "My friend, zipper, zipper.
In a blink of an eye, the salary will be paid, and the problem will be solved. For problems in the branch, the zipper general will ask the leader of the headquarters, and the zipper leader will guide the personnel and salary record work of the headquarters. The bottom of this zipper is What's going on? The leader was angry and asked the friend who saved me to find out. My friend told Zizi, "You lied to me. I clearly told you that you were very lacking in confidence, and you even used formulas to calculate it." "The leader said: "Do you want to polish the evidence? "Usually we communicate on the phone, and the information we send is all sent through QQ. It has been so long. I polished the computer and found nothing. I can't argue.
This is the first time that my friend feels that The human heart is evil, and one heart will be stabbed three times...
Self-pity is where the leader trusts you. Don’t just focus on polishing the work, but also pay attention to the method. Boundless people should be treated in a boundless way.
Many times, it means always treating yourself positively, and others will respond in the same way. But being positive also requires the correct way of expression. , otherwise you will end up in a situation where you are seeking truth from facts.
Treat people positively and trust them, but in the end, it will be hard to tell if you have a good reputation...
Trust is like a piece of white paper. It is very easy to crump it, but it is even more difficult to polish it. There is more to trust than polishing it in the workplace. It means that it will happen every moment. Staged.
The story of trust continues, the crisis of trust exists objectively, and the topic of trust is always updated... I hope that the flower of trust will always bloom for everyone (2) < /p>
A gust of cold wind blows away countless sorrows and dyes the fallen leaves into countless golden colors. The fallen leaves spin in front of me without stopping for a moment. ? The winter of words was also full of golden sentimentality. Do you still remember? I was immersed in the beauty of falling leaves in the cold wind, but as time passed and the stars moved, the intoxicating scenery became more and more fascinating. Sentimental words can only pass away quietly in the loneliness of no one watching.
I sat silently in front of the computer, typing words that no longer belonged to me, my heart was cold and my eyes were astringent. My inspiration has dried up and my body and mind are exhausted. How can I still make my fingertips produce the fragrance of words? What else can I do to help my hands that are no longer dexterous to write beautiful stories? My heavy hands struck out a touching and moving song of departure? Perhaps, I thought too highly of myself and thought I could control words easily.
But how much I loved you, my. Words. I fell in love with you in the blooming season. You were my lover, intoxicating me with your faint scent of books; you peered into my heart with your melancholy eyes; you once thought you would never be able to melt my indifference. You will never leave me, you will always be the most perfect thing in my heart. Even if you are just an ordinary book, you accompany me to grow up, accompany me to sleep, and accompany me through the most difficult years.
< p> I fell in love with you during the blooming season. You were my blue-faced confidant. You told me the troubles of youth with a tacit tone of voice; you rubbed my tender skin with your ambiguous body; you rubbed it with your warm emotions. Calm down the anger in my heart. I once thought that you would never leave me and would always be my most caring confidant.The one who knows me is none other than you; the one who understands me is none other than you; the one who pities me is none other than you; the one who loves me is none other than you. Even if you are an ordinary book. It is you who drove away my loneliness and brought me spiritual enrichment; it was you who drove away my sadness and brought me happiness that I have never had before.
During the blooming season, due to that sudden accident, my body and mind were severely damaged. Life for me is no longer exciting; life for me is no longer vital; youth for me is no longer Toward the end of death. That year, there was a heavy rain, which buried my ambition in the sea of ??rain; that year, there was a heavy snow, and my remaining happiness was frozen in the vast earth.
This burial lasted for ten years; this freezing lasted for ten spring and autumn periods. I thought I would never meet you again, I thought I would never have the chance to have a drink with you, and I would never have the chance to rely on you. Fate, I was once separated by fate, but now, because of the improvement of my body, the changes in my life, and the ups and downs of my mind, I am reunited with you. A person can live for hundreds of years, and one year is just a blink of an eye. Although it was only a short moment, it made me fall in love with you again. This love is a crazy love, a love that can't stop, a love that is both painful and happy, a love that is entangled and reluctant to let go. .
This year, you are my lover of life and death, my only sustenance; this year, you are my best friend, leaving a faint fragrance on my body; this year, you are mine Intimate lover, I cry for you, laugh for you, feel pain for you, and get drunk for you. Because of you, I turned my deep love for my mother into ink, and sincerely described this love bit by bit; because of you, I turned my longing for my friend into tears, and the tears fell from the corners of my eyes, dripping on my face. On my fingertips; because of you, I sincerely face my heart, do not hide my sad emotions, put my palms together, and silently worship you devoutly. For the sake of love, I bravely faced the bleak life, the invasion of illness, and the warmth and warmth of human relationships. For the sake of love, I stood up again from the sea of ??rain, learned to swim and save myself, and shouted loudly to the rain: Come on, come on, you buried me, I will use words to turn the pain you brought me into strong strength , inspiring surging fighting spirit! For the sake of love, I used all my strength to break through the hard ice and snow, sprout and bloom again in the spring of life, dance in the world of words, write and criticize Fang Qiu, and live a wonderful life.
This year, I bloomed the flowers of emotion in words, writing day and night. Watering and fertilizing every day, even though my back is sore, I feel as happy as a flower when I see the flowers blooming more and more. The beautiful petals attract many passers-by to stop and admire. But when I smell the fragrance of the flower, it is refreshing and attracts the nostalgia of many swallowtails. I feel that I am a beautiful flower, and some people will look at me with approval.
The spring of words is so beautiful. When can I write about the clarity of the blue sky, the leisurely white clouds, the brightness of the sun, the beauty of the green forest, the tenderness of the grass, the agility of the streams, and the fragrance and beauty of the flowers?
The summer of writing is so prosperous. When can I write about the lush forests, the sweetness of fruits, the spectacular rape flowers, and the vigorous growth of rice?
Autumn in words is so romantic. When will I be able to write about the splendor of red maples, the coolness of autumn wind, the mystery of autumn rain, and the charm of autumn light?
In the world of literature, there are many talented people, but I am just an inconspicuous little flower. Seeing all the flowers blooming, with their fragrance and extraordinary charm, I have doubts and doubts about my words. Worry, after all, I am an ordinary flower. Compared with many famous flowers, I can't be called precious. My words do not have the nobility of peony, the beauty of peony, the fragrance of water, or the nobility of lotus. They are just the most ordinary flower among all living beings. No one will notice my existence. They are more elegant and gorgeous than me. , there are many times more fragrant flowers.
I have worked hard to grow, to ride on the wind of a little talent to reveal fragrance in the spring, to bloom in the sunshine, to grow taller on the grass, to attract the attention of others. But the rules cannot be violated. A little flower is born like this. If Guo insists on turning himself into a peony, wouldn't he be imitating others and making others laugh?
Be yourself, be your original self, speak your own words, write your own articles, as long as you don’t attack maliciously, don’t be pretentious, don’t plagiarize, and use your fingertips to express your true temperament, truth, goodness and beauty, I think , that should also be a qualified article.
The cold wind is still there, and the fallen leaves are still there, but the heart is changing from sadness to joy, from happiness to worry, from worry to thinking, and from thinking to enlightenment. The cold wind stopped and the fallen leaves were scattered on the soil. What a spectacular golden color! Who says it’s not good to be a small flower? Although it withers in the autumn wind and becomes nutrients in the cold wind, I think in the coming year, it will be like these fallen leaves, becoming nutrients in the winter, and repeating a vibrant self for my big tree in the spring. .
The little flower has become my own nourishment, making hopeful preparations for a new me in the coming year. Lyrical classic prose (3)
How many times are light at the fingertips; how many years are flowing in the pen; how much prosperity is still prosperous after the flowers have bloomed and withered; how many scenery, after thousands of turns, finally The most touching thing is the sparkle of fireworks that fills the heart with sweet fragrance. Although it cannot be seen, it is always lingering, poetic and fragrant in a woman's heart...
Time is like water, and years are like songs. In the passing years, I gently place a pool of ink flowers, like a woman with fireworks in the world, walking forward in a clear way on the streets of the mortal world.
The woman with fireworks is like a little flower, fragrant and warm, like a warm encounter; like a piece of music, listening to the Zen heart of clouds and water; like a line of text, telling a story of romantic snow and moon. Another example is a bowl of clear porridge, savoring the long flow of life, savoring the elegant fragrance of time, and savoring the true taste of life, which is light, simple, sweet, and exuding a faint fragrance...
How much Fireworks, a bit of frost, the sky and the earth are already silent. Relying on nature, sitting quietly among the mountains and rivers, your heart follows it, so quiet, so slow, and so clear. Just like this, brewing a pot of chrysanthemum tea, with a faint fragrance, the taste is refreshing, and the artistic conception is breathtaking. Feel comfortable, and then put the hustle and bustle into the eyes of time, feather it, collect it, and taste it. Chew the taste of life with your heart, a little smell of fireworks, a little sense of happiness, as long as the heart is light and quiet, and the mountains and rivers are calm.
Firework woman knows that having a good attitude in life is the most rare practice. Don't be entangled in feelings, don't care about gains and losses, don't worry about right and wrong, don't let worries control yourself, don't let comparisons lose your mind, but keep a simple heart, pure eyes, and treat life, the world, and the world with a peaceful, calm, and plain attitude. The people and things around you. The world of mortals is like ink, dyeing the color of the soul; the world of mortals is also like water, washing away the dust in the heart. It depends on how you look at it, think about it, and let go of it.
The woman of fireworks does not shut herself away from the world or escape, but builds fences and plants chrysanthemums in her heart, and sees Nanshan leisurely. The world is full of dreams, the years are misty and rainy, there are scattered scenery, there is the noise of the busy city, there are things that are not satisfactory, there are complaints, sadness and separation, but you cannot choose to escape because of these, unless you do not want to eat the fireworks of the world.
In life, only through glitz and glitz can one experience an elegant and simple heart; only through vicissitudes of life can one appreciate the weight of life and the beauty of time; only through setbacks can one understand and learn to turn the corner; Only the tranquility cultivated through the hustle and bustle can be the true simplicity of the soul.
Finding calmness and peace of mind in the hustle and bustle is a test, a state, and a sublimation of the soul. In the depths of the world of mortals, a woman lives in the fireworks of the world, living a free and easy life, living a life of herself, and living a life of tranquility and gentleness.
In her free time, the woman of fireworks likes to dance with words, plant a ray of ink fragrance in her heart, and bury a piece of poetry in the world of mortals. The further the years go, the more poetic, elegant, noble and leisurely she becomes. The beauty of a woman lies not only in her appearance, but also in the beauty of her soul, the abundance of knowledge, and her crystal clear state of mind. The simplicity, elegance, and peace all add a touch of dignity, beauty, intellectuality, and scholarly quality to women.
Looking back over the years and looking through the past, the prosperity that has dispersed and the time that has gone away will not return to the past after all, but the yellowed pages can still be poetic and rich through the fragrance of writing and ink. Written and graceful, the words never grow old and the fragrance of ink never fades. This woman will write all the joys, anger, sorrows and joys of the passing years...
Time is beautiful, the years are fleeting, the fireworks woman brings a touch of book fragrance, Find the softness of spring, the beauty of summer, the enchantment of autumn, and the elegance of winter in the words.
I like to sit quietly by the window, in the heart of a piece of Yunshui Zen, meditate, purify the mind, nourish the mind, quiet myself in the hustle and bustle, polish away the vicissitudes and helplessness left by the years in the world, integrate the chaos into the Zen music, and follow it. When the storm and clouds are gone, wait for your heart to be as simple as simple, and wait for your heart to be as clear as water. In the passing years of fireworks, I hope the time will be calm, I hope the years will be leisurely, and I hope your life will be filled with flowers.
With a normal heart and a happy heart, be an ordinary yet elegant woman, exuding a light fragrance, in the fireworks, all the way through the world of mortals and wind and rain, all the way into the heart with fragrance, all the way comfortable and indifferent. Lyrical Classic Prose (4)
Speechlessly, I lean against the tall building, looking across the distant mountains, loving it, the bright moon is bright, the lights have dimmed, and the gentle drizzle stains the ink with desolation. There is still a sense of caution when people leave, but the west wind does not care about people. Drinking the moonlight alone, swallowing it for a long time. The fallen plum blossoms are making shadows, autumn songs fill the night, the sleeves are fluttering and dancing, and the clothes are thin, and the soul is even more ecstatic. Remember, the past cannot be traced, it is boring to leave it empty. On a moonlit night on the Autumn River, there is smoke and water. I wrote this article out of my heart.——Inscription
Painting screen
The bamboos penetrate the breeze, and the river city is drunk. The cold wall in front of the building is meaningless. If you want to ask about Jiang Qing, you must go upstairs. There are murals on the walls, ancient sculptures that are thousands of years old, and the torrential water is rushing eastward. Leaning on the waist of the building, the river road turns to flat sand, the rain and fog are high and the smoke is rising, and the wind is fine and the waves are cold. The fishermen sing far away on the river beside the bridge, and the blue lanterns and phoenix trees fly sideways. The imperial pavilion is made into a palace, with earthen wood and masonry, red lacquer and gold carved hollow flowers, wavy dragons and silver tower paintings, evening gold diagonally reflecting the pottery tiles, flying corners of the house, phoenix tail, copper bells inlaid with vertical gourd treasures, and turtle tail claws. Facing each other, the pavilions and railings are blue and white with light ink and two dots of white sand and vermilion. On the east side of the platform, dreamy orchids are crouching. Thin clothes cannot withstand the cold at midnight. It is easy to say goodbye and difficult to see.
Lying alone under the cicada window, unable to sleep due to collapsed dreams, clouds, mountains and foggy seas, looking for traces of the past. When the love reaches the depths, half a finger is left as a candle. How can I sleep during the long night? In Chanyuan's dream, the grass on the grass is as green as green trees, and she is drunk and loves the past. The flowers are low in the shade of the wall, and she sheds tears of affection in the night. The moon is dewy, cold and sad, chanting and singing in a low voice, the ancient rhyme of the pipa. The clothes and half of the heart are messy, the youth is suffering, the youth is happy, there are many ups and downs like climbing a building, and the tears flow in vain. Huaqing is still dreaming of purple maples. I am speechless and choked. My face is covered with tears and it is difficult to hold them back.
The sound of the wind is like a rain of sand. When I hear the sound of your piano, I gently pluck it with my fingers, and a stream of music splashes on the jade plate, and three thousand soft intestines are shocked.
Meng Xu
The wind and shadow of the surrounding mountains should still be there, and the stream is as clear as a lens. If you want to compare the pure stream with the pure one, it is actually Meng Wen who takes it seriously.
Waiting for the long pavilion of mountains and rivers, the clouds and smoke at the fingertips, the flying waterfalls, and the flowers blooming in Baidu. I don’t know if I think of Yi, but if my heart is still there, I only wish that the clear water is clear. Drinking alone in the forest and seeing the light, thinking about people without seeing the moon. There are hundreds of mountains and hundreds of mountains, and you can see all over the world. You can see the mountains, forests, and rivers, but when you stop for a moment, you can't see the fragrance. A trace of the river embankment is as green as scissors, a thousand cups of paper dance are tireless, the buildings are sparse, the guests are far away, and the shadows are far away, and the people are close to each other on the road to the end of the world. After being drunk for three minutes, I fell into a drowsy state. There was no one to disturb me, and the sound was all over the forest and the fragrance was fragrant. There are several houses with flowing water, many bamboo fences and black tiles, and dangerous pavilions looking out in the open, sighing at the falling flowers hurt by the flowing water.
In the dream, there are numerous flowers separated by each other, evoking the feelings of the past. The gentle and peaceful smile exudes endless agarwood. The indigo and red makeup is no longer what it used to be, and the breeze of dreams is also lost in the depths of the falling flowers. It's colder, the clothes are shallower, and the coldness is full of tenderness.
How many worries and complaints, the willow is broken, and there are three thousand idiots. I only wish that it was the Hengqin woman on the misty rain-painted bridge in the south of the Yangtze River, with a little rain's clear tears filling her distant mind. The road turns to Qingshi Lane, holding an oil-paper umbrella lightly, watching a few sailing boats flooding the water, and distant guests chatting about poetry and wine. Add a stroke of ink blue and white to exaggerate the rouge scent of dancing alone in water sleeves.
Green Zun
The water reflects the setting sun and the fragrance floats, the scene is like a shuttle, the night is long and people are lonely, old sorrows are not over, new sorrows arise, who can I say these sorrowful words to?
People are in the old waves in an empty building, leaking arrows move quietly, thin clothes are not cold-resistant, plum blossoms are stained with ink for a few times, speechless and choked with memories become mourning. Lyrical classic prose (5)
The cold moon seals the heart, leaving a bit of desolation in the air, and it is difficult to break thousands of strands of love.
The fragrance of books is freehand, half of the clear words are like water lotuses, and the ink becomes the beauty of mourning. ——Inscription
Gently lift a few rays of moonlight, and then apply some peach red ink to paint the desolation in the wind and smoke. The night sky was dim, and I stood alone under the window, counting the cold stars. A few fallen flowers, a few wisps of lingering fragrance. Appreciating it alone, the floating moonlight is slightly charming, just like your smile. The beauty is gone, but the dream is hard to break. I look towards the moon with a pure heart, but I don’t see your charming face.
Stand quietly and let the moonlight slowly frame you, making you feel extraordinarily peaceful. Just like this, facing the moon and keeping company with the shadow. The memories of the past are constantly lingering, the whisper of the messy wind deep in the clouds, and the isolation from the world.
The silence of midnight is intertwined with the chaotic starry sky. As time goes by, I sigh at the world of mortals. How many times have I looked at the flowers in the mist, but I am still confused. Flowers bloom for several seasons, but without their beauty to accompany them, they are nothing more than a wisp of smoke. How many times have I gazed at Lanting, and with that word of farewell, all kinds of emotions are gone.
The wind is singing softly, knocking on the heart, awakening the remaining dreams. A few drops of residual red fall, leaving a faint lingering fragrance, scattered with idle sorrow, accumulating the depth of the courtyard. Crush the moonlight into pieces and cover the lonely empty room. Under the moonlight, it is like you are looking back. Helpless, the dusty heart is still the spring red of yesterday, and the old face still appears in the eyes.
The thick moonlight cannot erase the sadness of the past. The outline of melancholy is like a cloud of smoke after you turn around. Through the wall of memory, you carved scars in my heart. That romance is hard to forget. Under the moonlight, you danced with all your splendor and finesse. Under the peach red, you look charming and youthful. An elegant smile fills the world of mortals. Beautiful jade and pearls appear in the world of mortals, as if they were delicate and beautiful for several generations.
In this way, the heart is intoxicated, and it is clear to the world, but it seems like it is another world. Just like in a dream, I don't know whether it is the company of the wind or the lingering relationship with the moon.
Standing alone under the starry sky, feeling the gentle wind and light clouds, while searching, the prosperity of the world has disappeared. I don’t know if it’s the cause of the past life or the result of this life, but your face will never be erased. Even though you are flashy, your smile still makes me lonely.
And tonight, the memory that seemed like a lifetime ago resurfaced again. Impacting the empty heart, leaving a few sighs. What falls on your fingertips is the dream of vicissitudes of life, but it leaves a little fragrance of your hair.
The moon is so bright and clear, the wind is so gentle, occasionally a few drops of red fall, and a trace of fragrance remains. And in the lonely night, I watched the moonlight and looked at the remaining red.
How many nights have I dreamed of meeting each other, wandering in the watery night as expected. Gu Ying felt sorry for himself and waited silently. When the flowers bloom, they are just recording the passage of time. Everything is familiar yet strange, and it seems that once-familiar faces are reflected in dusty memories. The fragmented memories were slowly put together in my heart, but in front of me, the appearance was no longer there, but the bonus was still the same.
Spring has arrived several times, and the flowers are blooming and falling, fragrant season after season. Facing the blooming flowers, I feel a little infatuated. Although they are beautiful, they will eventually fade away, leaving only lingering lingering fragrance.
When will the flowers bloom? Under the moon, there will be a solitary shadow.
There are thousands of charming smiles, but no one cares about them.
Talking about looking at red flowers will never make you smile.