Ask for a speech about Li Sao and compare literature and art.

My impression of Li Sao is gradually blank. Before that, please allow me to describe my fading memory for my little vanity. The snow in early spring has not completely melted. After reading arts and sciences, I sat in Class 3, Grade One, fumbling with my pen. The 6 1 year-old skinny China man hobbled onto the platform and used his wisdom at the age of 40 to render: "I am ugly, but I am gentle." Laughing, of course. I'm the only one sitting in the corner sneering. I show my contempt and disgust with my actions. Don't exchange correcting compositions, use ballpoint pens for exams. Or because of his excellent grades, he just spit out my eyesight and lamented my shortcomings. That year, my Chinese textbook was unique and clean. I can't find any handwriting except the name of dragon and phoenix. Looking at the graffiti at my deskmate and the old man spitting on the podium, I can't help sighing slightly. Of course, I will not give up on myself. Another time, I will indulge in it alone and enjoy it. I didn't leave any of my messages. I listened carefully. I will finish all the texts I should recite on time. It all depends on my superhuman memory. Before I go crazy on drugs, I will memorize all the ancient Chinese texts I have learned. Classical Chinese only. When my brain gradually turned to depression, I met Qu Yuan and his Li Sao. Now, all my memories of him are only one word "Xi". How ridiculous. God gave me four years to indulge in ancient Chinese without hesitation. After four years, I pulled them out of my mind bit by bit. Cruelty makes me sad. Everything is like a cloud. Yes, gone, everything, exhausted. However, I think I can understand Qu Yuan, or Li Sao. Too many restrictions. There is no denying that Qu Yuan is patriotic. And he yearns for freedom, which is exactly the same as my yearning for a normal life. We are doing crazy things for our own yearning. He committed suicide by jumping into the river. I, on the other hand, failed completely. My courage, in the white ward and the entanglement day after day, dissipated. What followed was fear. Endless, sleepless at night. I finally, gradually numb. All the past will eventually become the past, all the pain, all the scabbing, branding, harshness and injury. This 6 1 year-old man was deeply frightened when I was 16 years old. What I can make up for is still a sigh. Once young, once ignorant, once regretted, there is no room for regret. Let's forget Li Sao!