Philosophical prose suitable for primary school students

Prose: 1. The first light rain in spring rustled in the green Woods. I walked alone in the Woods. My ears are full of many faint mysterious and beautiful voices. The green camphor leaves breathe gently. The young bamboo shoots burst silently. Countless mushrooms in the center of the earth are like white umbrellas. My mother once told us that their names were swan bacteria, and larks jumped from branch to branch like notes. Their songs are sweet and charming, the dew is shining and slipping quietly, and the faint fog is like soft white gauze. The whole nature is like a music. The Woods in spring are the harp of life. They are playing wonderful music and poems, which gently hit my 14-year-old heart full of fantasy. Grandpa's winter is a quiet season. Grandpa always sits alone on the wall in winter, silent. The sun caressed his face as old as a walnut with gentle hands, and caressed his beloved child like a kind mother. Winter is a snowy season, and snowflakes swirl like mysterious white butterflies from distant heaven. My grandfather told the story of his childhood on a quiet snowy night. He is as happy as a child, and his heart is full of infinite warmth, just like me. On a sad day, the children suddenly remembered the spring outing. In fact, no one knows what grandpa is thinking in winter, but his story tells me that he has been very far away from his childhood and hometown ... 3. Zhu Ziqing's Spring 4. Zhu Ziqing's "Hurry" 5. Zhu Ziqing's Moonlight on the Lotus Pond 6. Zhu Ziqing's ancient poem The Back: 1. Humble room inscription ii. Clear sand. Qiu Si III. Xijiangyue, 4. Farewell to Meng Haoran on the way to Yangzhou. Seven steps poem 6. Recalling Jiangnan Han Yuefu Jiangnan can pick lotus leaves and lotus leaves. Fish hits the lotus leaf east, fish hits the lotus leaf west, fish hits the lotus leaf south, and fish hits the lotus leaf north. Singing geese, robin, king goose, geese, geese, Quxiang, white hair floating green water, Anthurium playing clear waves. Yuanbao Liu He Jasper is decorated as a tree high, hanging a moss tapestry for thousands of years. I wonder who cut the thin leaves. The spring breeze in February is like scissors. Wang Zhihuan heron lodge, the mountains cover the day, and the sea drains the golden river. If you want to by going up one flight of stairs, you should see the William Wang luminous glass of wine. If you want to drink the pipa, you should urge it immediately. Don't laugh when you are drunk on the battlefield. How many people fought in ancient times? In fact, you don't understand, my heart is full of soft catkins, back and forth notes, and every corner is full of propositions that you are not old but happily bear, expecting the peak elegance to be reborn in the middle of the night. And time is a broken colorful flag in the wind, changing the angle in your rhetoric and combining it into a strange greeting instead of a small step, Gioia-style warmth. Light a candle gently, and your affected expression will appear quite gentle or sad in such a scene. A singer came to a razor near the front desk. After the curtain fell, to be honest, you were very moved in silence. This fleeting touch is like looking at the withered roses in the mirror in the morning and floating in the reinforced concrete city in the wind. What did you write with a pen? At most, you changed the theme and presented your feelings to yourself falsely. You are very real. When the philosopher's beard sweeps deep into his heart, you bend down gracefully and whistle, even you can't figure out who is mocking who or you are mocking yourself. Nostalgic kites hang in your loneliness. From the old tree, you can see a wild flower swaying in the breeze. In the boundless space, you try to talk to all beings, and your woman knows all this. Your woman is in your dream, and the crutch in your dream is in your hand, but you give up and finally feel broken. It's time for you to put an end to this illusion. If anyone understands your trivial words, believes your statement, brings a kind of warmth or another assumption outside the vague door, and creates an artistic conception of returning home after the storm, I still know that you will still say that you don't really understand my heart. Very quiet. Make a cup of tea and sit in the yard of my hometown and watch the stars. The hometown of the soul doesn't want to sleep. I just want to enjoy this peace and spiritual comfort. As always, I was restless and noisy, and my tears were mixed with complaints and fears. At the moment, the night in April is as cold as water, and the sky is as dark as ink cloth. Many stars are swaying in the wind, flashing and changing into new faces; It looks so bright, like being washed by the clear water of Tianhe, and catching one is the latest and most touching. Go to eat first. We'll talk later. Put down the teacup, stand up, stand on tiptoe, touch with your hands, and the distance between the planetesimals and you is getting farther and farther, so you suddenly realize that you are still in a complicated world, and at this moment, the world is washed by moonlight, like a tempting gauze. So some depressed, bowed their heads and sipped tea. The leaves are frivolous, and you can't see the elegant posture of the past, but you can smell it. It is a clear fragrance, and it seems to be mixed with the sweetness of sycamore flowers, entangled and infiltrated into your throat and nose, regardless of each other. During the day, the cut plane trees were piled up in disorder on the west side of the yard. How many stars it has borne, how many flowers it has watched wither, and how many times it has aroused this woman's quiet and thin sigh. At this time, it is lying quietly, like a broken root, holding a handful of mud, so that you can smell its familiar smell when it leaves. If you are not a slacker, the more you add here, the better. That smell, deja vu, is also given by you hidden in your heart. The moon is curved, it is the 26th day of the lunar calendar, and it is a deficit; Since ancient times, it has been complete, with regrets, less satisfaction and more lingering regrets. It's like years. When it is given, it always means loss. When you lose it, you are deeply waiting for the next expectation. You, me and him are standing in front of these three open doors, choosing the way to go. Outside the door on the left is a beach with clear water and blue sky, outside the door on the right is a snow-covered window, and outside the door in the middle is a colorful butterfly flying in under the green forest tree. You, I and he chose three different doors without hesitation, but I insisted on the middle one because I like butterflies. I went out, and the butterfly fluttered its thin colorful wings and flew far away. I ran away with it at once without hesitation. Isn't it easy to chase a butterfly? Although there is an endless road ahead, I want to catch that butterfly. Butterflies dance, high and low, like elves in soft sunshine, emitting mysterious flavor. I tried to catch the butterfly several times, but it almost escaped. Accidentally, I tripped over the gravel on the ground and fell heavily. Look at that broken scar. It's really hard to chase butterflies! I turned on the com and saw you, listening to the crisp sound of the waves beating against the rocks, slowly blowing the cool sea breeze, walking on the beach and picking up my favorite shells. Seeing him, I stood at the window, watching the snowflakes flying like goose feathers, enjoying the magnificent scenery, and smiled with satisfaction. I can't help laughing. Is this what you want? I stand up again, I will continue to chase butterflies. I suddenly saw that delicate butterfly stop on the branch, as if I had read my mind. When I got up, it flew away again. I ran desperately to chase it, and its speed accelerated again. Sweat ran down my cheeks like running water, gravel tripped me again and again, and I got up again and again. Although you and he will always be happy in my mind, I never stop. Butterflies are tired and slow. Although I am panting, I know I will make good use of it now. I rushed up and caught the butterfly. I gasped and looked at the butterfly in my hand, and it suddenly shone brightly. When I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded by Xanadu ... Shell Picker, I don't miss you. You're just looking for debris that doesn't help the waves. I don't envy you, who is watching the snow. You have to silently admire the magic of nature in loneliness. I want to thank you for giving me the butterfly I chased. You let me experience the hardships of chasing you and the joy after success. I am chasing the same blue sky happily. Recalling the seven-step poem of Mo Mei in April in the countryside of Jiangnan.