Excerpts from Wonderful and Beautiful Prose by Famous Artists (1)
1, excerpted from "Yangguan Snow"
I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the Central Plains has white hair, the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, and the children in Hunan cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that the deceased, such as husband, are facing the enemy lines in northern Shuobei; I believe that they really want to look back at the last minute and take a look at the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.
2. Autumn of Yu Dafu's Old Capital
It has been nearly ten years since autumn in the north. Every autumn in the south, I always think of the reed flowers in Taoranting, the willow shadows in Diaoyutai, the insects in Xishan, the jathyapple in Yuquan and the bells in Tanzhe Temple. Even if you don't go out in Beiping, you can rent a shabby house and live in the sea of people in the imperial city. Get up in the morning, make a bowl of strong tea and sit in the yard, you can see the high blue sky and hear the pigeons flying in the blue sky. From the bottom of Sophora japonica leaves, counting a ray of sunshine leaking to the east, or quietly facing the blue morning glory like morning glory at the broken waist, you can naturally feel the breath of autumn. Speaking of morning glory. I think blue or white is the best, followed by purple and black, and pink is the lowest. It is best to have a few sparse and slender autumn grasses as a foil at the bottom of the morning glory.
Excerpts from Wonderful and Beautiful Prose by Famous Artists (2)
1, Yu Guangzhong's Listening to Cold Rain
Listen, the cold rain. Look at that cold rain. Smell it, cold rain, lick it, cold rain. The rain fell on his umbrella, on the umbrellas, raincoats, houses and antennas of millions of people in this city. It's raining in Keelung Port, on the breakwater, on the boat in the channel, and it's raining this season. Rain is a woman and should be the most emotional. The rain and dew are ethereal and psychedelic, smelling carefully, refreshing, with a little mint fragrance. When it is thick, it gives off a faint earthy smell unique to grass trees after soaking their hair. Maybe it's actually the smell of earthworm and snail. After all, this is a shock. Maybe it's life on the ground and underground, maybe it's the silly crawling of China's ancient memories, maybe it's the subconscious and dreams of plants, and that smell is fishy.
2. Bi Shumin: Filial piety is priceless
? Filial piety? Is it a fleeting attachment? Filial piety? Is happiness that cannot be copied. ? Filial piety? It's a thing of the past. Filial piety? It is a chain where life meets life. Once it's disconnected, it can't be connected again.
Be filial to your parents. Maybe a mansion, maybe a brick. Maybe it's a swan on the other side of the ocean, maybe it's a message close at hand. Maybe it's a pure black doctor's hat, maybe it's a red five in the exercise book. Maybe it's a table of delicious food, maybe it's a wild fruit and a small flower. Maybe it's a gorgeous skirt, maybe it's a pair of clean old shoes. Maybe tens of thousands of dollars, maybe just a coin with a body temperature? But? Filial piety? Generally speaking, they are equivalent.
Just, children of the world, we must hurry! When your parents were still alive.
Excerpts from Wonderful and Beautiful Prose by Famous Artists (3)
1, Bing Xin for young readers
Countless farewell people, on the farthest river bank, just hold this last cut-off note and float this behemoth to the west with the heaviest sadness!
Life on the boat is so fresh and lively, except for three meals, just playing games and walking around at will. In the first three days at sea, I completely returned to the state of a child. I threw sandbags in circles, enjoyed it, and then I never played again. It's strange to think about myself later. Without him, the sea evoked memories of my childhood. In the waves, childlike innocence and playmates jumped into my mind. I hate that there are few children on board this time. In the three days since my childlike innocence came back, are there any good games to guess!
I have lived by the sea since I was a child, but I have never seen the sea as flat as a mirror. This time out of Wusongkou, the day's voyage is sparkling and endless, with a cool breeze blowing gently, and the ship is like sailing on ice. After crossing the Korean border, the sea is like a lake, blue-green, condensed into one, and the golden light of the sunset, like a long snake, rushes straight from the horizon to the stands of others.
From the sky to the water in front of the ship, from light red to dark green, it has become dozens of colors, layer by layer and piece by piece. Children, I hate that I can't draw. Words are the most useless things in the world. I can't write such an ethereal and wonderful scene!
2. Yu Xue
I like the flying snowflakes in Shanghai. It is "snow-white" white, as beautiful as a flower. It seems to be lighter than air, not falling from the air, but being rolled up from the ground by the air. However, it is like a living thing, like a group of gnats (ru? ), just like a bee in the honey-making period in spring, it seems to have its own will and purpose in its busy flight, whether it is up or down, whether it is fast or slow, whether it is close to the human body or crowded out of the window. It is silent. But when it flies, we seem to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the stormy waves of the sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes we seem to hear the whispers of children, the quiet evening prayers in the chapel, and the cheerful birds singing in the garden? It brings gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we saw a kind mother, lively children, smiling flowers, a warm sun and a silent sunset? It's not breathing. But when it jumped on our faces, we seemed to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, and the faint jasmine? During the day, it makes thousands of elegant gestures; At night, it gives off silver light, shines on our pedestrians, and draws all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, oblique, straight, curved and upside down. And the river, the clouds in the sky?
Excerpts from the wonderful and beautiful prose of famous artists;
1. Excerpts from beautiful famous prose
2. Excerpts from the beautiful prose of celebrities
3. Excerpts from the beautiful narrative prose of famous writers
4. Beautiful prose passages of famous artists
5. Appreciation of outstanding prose by famous artists