1000 words exquisite prose masterpiece 1: cover your heart.
I lie prone on the window and look at the sky with ecstasy. It is blue, not so dark, but he hides his fragile heart gloomily. I can see him. I saw his eyes full of longing and caught his innocent smile. He laughed me out of my mind and made me silly. Suddenly, I found clear tears dripping from his eyes, but his pain painted his blue clearer, purer and deeper. I was delighted to find that he was so close to me, so close at hand, but I stood on tiptoe, but I couldn't touch him. Then, my eyes can't see through his soul. However, I feel more and more stubbornly that his eyes are in my heart, so that those dark shades of black and gray can't cast a shadow in my heart.
He is also in the sky, facing me from a distance. His attentive expression evacuated the air between us and made me unable to breathe. I think this is the way I want to die.
Now it seems that it's just a distant story, and even I forgot how I used my curiosity and enthusiasm to stare at my eyes and breathe synchronously with nature. Curiosity is the kindest nature of children, and it is also a life that God can't bear to abandon. Enthusiasm is the proudest pride of teenagers, and it is a fire that has not been extinguished by the world.
I just hit on the cold keyboard, tormenting my inspiration bit by bit and dumping it into the endless abyss in waves. But only to keep my last dying fire warm.
Fallen? Negative? This is not a word I am familiar with. I am used to truth and purity, and I am also used to longing and hope. Therefore, I have always been so contradictory. I hit the cold night and misfortune with my hottest and boldest heart, witnessing it being torn to pieces, but I have been trying to repair it with the purity brewed in my heart, full of joy and eager to see it bright and warm.
My heart has never been covered! Isn't it always on but always running? Isn't covering your heart a state? What really covers the heart is the transcendental soul. Only anyone can open the whole heart or close it stiffly! Only a fool, a crazy idiot, keeps opening it and closing it painfully! Sadly, I only have a lifetime to be a fool. Love all my life but look at the world and my life sadly! But shouldn't you congratulate me? Shouldn't I envy my soul for never leaving my heart?
I want to paint the windows all over the earth, so that all eyes accustomed to darkness can get used to light.
I want to be a wayward child, but I'm not like this now. However, my spirit has always been bound, because God is afraid that this child can put wings and a breeze will make her fly and show God the world he has created. Maybe I shouldn't complain, because people's world is really created by themselves. Real children are favored by God. Their big clear eyes can't see the ugly night. They have never seen clouds. Their eyes are empty.
I can't have eyes like that, even if I had them before, I forgot. Only at some time, watching the lively and enthusiastic sports, my eyes will change to the past, but only for a while. I don't want to wrap myself in my dreams and enjoy the illusory life alone. At that time, I thought I was a discerning person, seeing through everything and stabbing my spear into the dark abyss. However, it can make people feel sad. The more soldiers, the more fragile the heart. Just be blind! Submerged in the dark all day long but forgotten the light, the hardened heart does not need to look for the faint consciousness surging in the air.
I looked at the world with my eyes, quietly listening to my breath and my heart moving with the heartbeat, opening and closing. I didn't know I was in trouble until I grew up. This is just the subtle ambivalence of teenagers. It will be fine when you grow up. But is this really the case?
I believe that no matter how old you are and how much you have experienced, when you think of your childhood and your childhood dreams, as long as you still have a soul, you will still feel a little bit, perhaps a dull pain, gently winding around your heart. Perhaps, at that moment, you will inadvertently open your heart and listen to the whispers of your soul. Although its door will be closed, it is lucky and touching to open it, which is enough for you to enjoy your life!
I don't know if I will still have this kind of emotion and pain in 20 or 30 years. I just hope that when I grow up, I will have an inexplicable impulse to see the sky when I see my emotional record.
1000 representative works of beautiful prose 2: pregnant in May
Passers-by stumble, but don't know how famous they are? Fortunately, I met an old gentleman and told him that this is Huaihua Avenue, which was built two years ago and extends eastward to the top of Dadong Mountain.
Looking around, neat rows of locust trees stand on both sides of the road, lush, tall and straight, although not shaded, but also lined up, a wide avenue leads directly to the top of the mountain, which is extremely deserted because of sparse people.
I thought that since it was Sophora japonica Avenue, Sophora japonica was indispensable. So I estimated that it was the time when Sophora japonica was in full bloom, and it was raining, so I decided to take pictures of Sophora japonica in the rain. I have already painted "White Sophora in the drizzle" in my heart. It is a rare artistic conception that the rain weaves, the wind is affectionate and the lines are silent.
However, reality is often contrary to people's wishes. I set foot on the road of Sophora japonica, only the green leaves did not see the flowers. I was so disappointed that I finally had to back off.
So is the memory of Sophora japonica, which can be seen everywhere in front of the court. This is not uncommon. Most of them are scattered with three plants and two plants, the branches are dead, and the bark is hard to crack, which is unremarkable.
But when it comes to spring, the situation is very different. In fact, the spring breeze is the most abundant thing, so the Sophora japonica, which has been swaying in the wind for a few days, has also changed its appearance. The whole tree is green and lovely, which makes people scratch their eyes.
However, I haven't seen you for a few days, and there are strings of green locust trees hanging in the green round leaves. Although it is faintly visible, it is also gratifying.
However, it is not easy, but what I see again is the white color of a tree, such as the gathering of butterfly powder, which is amazing.
Because of his deep sleep at night, Xu missed the flower viewing. Look at the white bloom that night, but I can also imagine how hot it was at that time, like a frying pan, locust trees were fighting for it. In fact, the flowers are spit out, and the petals are open and bright like a broken butterfly. One by one, trembling, waving passers-by's eyes, throwing emails to hook greedy bugs in passers-by's abdomen.
The locust tree has blossomed. So full of fragrance overflowed my cheeks, and I couldn't help but want to taste the sweetness of Sophora japonica.
Bang, the whole branch is broken. It is the child like black mud who is breaking it with his thin arms, which are not much thicker than the branches of Sophora japonica. I saw him holding a branch in one hand and shouting in the other: it's connected. The shouts were full of pride.
So the fallen branches fell like springs, and the companions who had been under the tree grabbed them, and quickly smoothed the Sophora japonica and put them in the bamboo basket.
The urchin in the tree looked at the scene under his feet like a monkey watching the scenery, grinning, and his silvery teeth became more proud, so he climbed higher and harder. Ignoring the pull of the locust, bang, bang, bang, bang, the branches broke, the leaves fell, and a pile of thick branches fell to the ground for a while.
That's enough, that's enough.
The child like black mud has just slipped down from the tree with lingering nostalgia, and his face and hands are scratched. His companion has filled his bamboo basket.
I walked home with a basket of happiness in my arms. What is left is the fallen leaves on the ground and the broken arm of that tree, which is terrible.
Taking off the stems and picking up the leaves, even the hands stained with Sophora japonica are full of refreshing fragrance.
Sprinkle with dry flour and wrap with layers of butterflies, which is whiter and fatter, like a cocoon without spinning. Lay a thin layer on the drawer cloth and cover the lid. After eight minutes, the fragrance of steam will spread around the lid, and the flour is also mixed with the fragrance of Sophora japonica.
Inhale it into your nose. It smells good.
Mixed with sesame oil to taste, so I opened my stomach and drank a bowl of fine noodles, even eating and drinking, nourishing.
Burp, burp, burp all over your stomach, lick your lips with your tongue and scream.
What's more, people who are greedy for Sophora japonica touch it a lot, scald it with boiling water and dry it for later use.
On the wide road, no family stopped in the yard.
There is a steamed Sophora japonica, which will be fragrant. Besides, the neighborhood is friendly and Sophora japonica is not a very rare thing. Every time I steam, I will steam a few more pots, pour them into a big pot with a diameter of three feet, fill them with bowls, and send them to the owner and the west. A pot of Sophora japonica has gone, and its mouth is sweet and fruity. * * * Enjoy Sophora japonica in May, which is the affection in May.
Knock, knock: Send a bowl of Sophora japonica to taste.
I took it and steamed it again: try it.
In the coming year, dead branches will grow new buds.
The locust tree is still hot.
1000 words beautiful prose masterpiece 3: Missing in late autumn
/kloc-in October and late autumn, the weather is neither too cold nor too hot, and the sky is higher and brighter because of its blue color.
Under the alternation of seasons, the fields begin to show a faint yellow color, especially the leaves on the roadside, which are very lovely. The mountains in the distance are green, because they are all green pine trees. On the roadside of the ancient city, the flowers are still blooming beautifully, and the fish in the river are swimming as usual, and there is no smell of winter at all. From the smooth slate of Sifang Street, we can see that the city is ancient, with melodious Naxi ancient music and modern pop music in the distance. People like to recall the past, but they prefer modern civilization. Some people say that Lijiang is becoming more and more commercialized, and more and more bars in the ancient city illustrate this point. The expensive price is exchanged for the smiling faces of tourists. But don't envy others, pulling Naxi's old milk and dancing around the bonfire, happiness can be seen everywhere. In Lijiang, what we see is quieter and more comfortable air and bright sunshine.
In late autumn, the night is as cool as water, with less silence in winter and more indifference in summer.
The roses in the yard are in bloom, and the fragrance of flowers wafts gently through the window and permeates the room like moonlight. I stuck my head out of the window, but I accidentally saw a lonely swallow flying under the eaves. I wonder if it is preparing for the warm nest in winter.
Turn on the computer and turn on the music, but it's the sad song: "I'll wait another minute, maybe the next minute. When I see your evasive eyes, I won't let sad tears hang on your face." I'm waiting for a minute, maybe the next minute, I can feel your heartache. I won't let the parting last forever that year. "
Some faint, unclear damp feelings flowed with the melody in my heart, so I quickly turned off the song and froze quietly on the sofa for a few minutes. Those distant things, like my farewell party when I graduated from college, are pure and kind, and I don't want to smear them with secular misty rain. However, my fragile and hypocritical heart can no longer appreciate the clear and smooth tune. Let the heart version be fresher and calmer.
In fact, like many people, I like to escape and I can't escape. Maybe I'm too young, and my wild and rash ideas are always vulnerable. I think that if I disguise my eyes with maturity, my passion will no longer flow; I thought that as long as I closed the bookmark, the text would never be open to anyone again. "Gradually drifting away, getting better." I can't hide my thoughts. If you feel unhappy, the only way to find happiness is to cheer up and make your actions and words look happy.
After late autumn, many flowers will not bloom until next year. "When the mountain flower is in full bloom, it is smiling at it." After the west wind, it will be snow and ice. Indifferent plum blossoms and orchids will bloom in that season. Is the mood of enjoying flowers the same as tonight? Tomorrow, when the dawn pushes away the night, will it face the falling flowers all over the ground again? Those pale colors lying on the ground, like those pale smiles, exposed the crying of the repressed night.
Maybe I don't need to worry. Although there are always autumn leaves and long roads blocked by snow and ice, it never misses sending invitations to flowers and birds in spring. Let's listen quietly and enjoy the sweet waiting silently. I hope someone will be more energetic after winter.
1000 words beautiful prose masterpiece 4: Night is like water, moonlight is like water.
It's night, it's quiet, everything is silent.
The wind is blowing lightly, with a hint of coolness.
The heat of summer disappears at night. Looking up at the sky, several stars dotted the night sky.
Under my feet, the road I walk every day is still beautiful today.
I like such a night, the moonlight pours like water.
When the noise is silent, the smart breeze drags the tired heart to linger on the Liuan, flying like the wind.
Walk slowly and walk in a calm night.
Clear water is everywhere, not gorgeous, not gorgeous, but it makes people feel detached, blurred and charming.
There is also a faint fragrance of flowers in the wind, which is the trace left by the season.
In the moonlight, the shadows of the trees are dancing, the warm wind is shaking the flowers and the subtle fragrance is tacit, elegant and hazy, and the moonlight night is infinite.
The night is clear, the wind is clear and the moon is bright, and the water is beautiful.
"Clouds break through the moon, the wind is uncertain, beginning of life is quiet, and the full moon should be red.
"I hummed a poem I didn't know from that angle, and quietly felt the elegance that quietly bloomed under the moon.
Looking around, I saw the stars in the sky smashed into mottled spots and landed in the small lotus pond in the distance, reflecting a little water, pure and leisurely.
Bright moonlight, sprinkled with a silvery white, reflected in the flowers, turned into crystal dew, mottled and beautiful.
I am intoxicated, intoxicated by the ethereal elegance, lightness, lightness, as quiet as misty rain, ethereal and distant.
The night is deep and the road is more affectionate.
I looked at the bright moon affectionately, and a cloud fluttered like a tulle, quietly covering up the shyness of the moon.
With a smile, gently stretch, the wind is soft and the moon is full, and the night is getting deeper.
Let the moonlight fall on the ground.
In the moonlight, the memory seems to become transparent, stretching freely in the breeze and being filled with warmth.
Gentle moonlight, covered with cold nights and cool breeze, wantonly blew through the window of memory, and the beauty in dreams and the sadness of waiting were all immersed in the silence of the night.
A sigh came from afar with the wind. It was the bright moon, and the story hidden in my heart fluttered into a fragrance with the wind, which was small and shallow.
With the feeling of a wisp of wind, drink a quiet and ethereal lamp, lean against an isolated building with a song, and taste a indifferent state of mind.
The moon, as if coming from the ancient ink fragrance, is as calm as water, accompanied by a wisp of breeze, quietly gathering up the flying skirts.
With the rhyme of the moon, I will integrate my heart into that tranquility, feel that happiness, and exile my heart gently.
Quietly, let my thoughts blur in the shallow dreamlike Yamashita.
In the distance, it seems that the flowers of this season have come, and my heart has begun to listen?
Classic and beautiful prose is about 1000 words: September, sadness is shallow.
A roll of calligraphy and painting, half a cup of tea, finely divided images, a sigh into my heart.
A few flowers fell, drunk with misty rain, wet with light sorrow-fragrant dyeing.
The moonlight shone on the floor and flickered outside the window.
The old dream is far away. On the night of September, a wisp of fragrance blew off and sneaked into the curtains with the wind. The piercing cicada sound penetrated the dark night and sang the sadness of early autumn.
Eyes dim, staring at a curtain of worries, a ray of sadness in the style, lonely leaning against the clear moonlight.
When I am depressed, make a pot of strong coffee for myself, and let the diffuse aroma gradually cover up my melancholy.
Play a sad song and let the melody moisten my eyes in silence.
A person, quietly thinking in the aroma of a cup of coffee.
You don't understand, that warmth makes me confused in the silent days.
Smile at the broken time, watch the fleeting time pass, and watch sadness and loneliness know each other.
A curtain of worry, a wisp of sadness in amorous feelings, blurred and lingering under the gentle moon.
In my wrinkled eyebrows, I miss you gently, just like last night, I held the starlight in my hand in the quiet night and let my thoughts fly.
Full of thoughts, in the vast starry night, faint silence, with the sadness of queque calmly fell into my eyes.
Looking around, flowers bloom for another season.
Your warmth, through the distant scenery, flies into the small window and sings with me.
As gentle as water, your eyes tied my acacia, and your little hand held the warmth you gave me. From then on, I began to like it, so I began to indulge.
I am a stranger, but I met unexpectedly. What should have been missed is destined to be cherished.
On the day of gathering, it was more lust and accompanying warmth, which made me forget my intended destination.
A story is a story after all, and it will end eventually. The happiness I choose is around me, and then I walk away.
I always want to make myself a flower in your eyes, and always want to put my tenderness in your palm.
Your figure is always drifting away when my tears are blurred, leaving no trace like the wind.
Every day, walk with acacia.
When drinking tea, that smell seems to have your taste, too.
Take me for a walk and dilute my sadness with your tenderness.
When the rain falls on the porch window and the garden is full of flowers, I fantasize about listening with you.
With expectation, I stared at the road when you came, but I couldn't see your figure, only time came gracefully.
Covered with moonlight, independent of the cold, your figure overlaps in the swirling wind, and that smile still stays in the curved corners of your mouth, but your heart can't be as calm as autumn water.
When I cry, my promise is like a lifetime ago.
Soft feelings, in the bottom of my heart, silently knock that concern into words.
When I am helpless, your elegance and indifference will still bring my thoughts in the words.
At the intersection of dreams, can my heart wait for you, and then hold my hand and walk all the way?
1000 words: I am proud of my choice.
The bus goes very slowly, as it always does on Monday mornings. I sat firmly by the back door and couldn't bear to watch these people crowded together like sardines, just looking at the scenery outside the window.
"The driver how to drive so slowly! I'm in a hurry! " From time to time, people sitting in the back row complain, which makes the car more and more irritated. "It's too slow, why not take a taxi?" I thought to myself, rush hour is always like this. No wonder the driver managed to get on the bus. Seeing that the driver was about to stop, people in the car began to complain that there were too many people in the car, hoping that the driver would not open the door again. People are always like this. People waiting for the bus can't wait for the bus to leave, so they are crowded one by one. People in the car can't wait to stop and drive all the way to their destination.
The bus barely stopped, and many people got off, so the sardines didn't have to be so embarrassed. At this time, I saw an old woman coming in the distance, and the bus was about to leave. The old woman got on the bus from the back door. I think this is wrong. The driver immediately shouted, "Get off! You can't get on the bus from the back door! " The old woman with gray hair is dressed simply and holding a discount card in her hand. After listening to the driver, she got out of the car disgruntled and hurried to the front door. The driver seemed to suddenly think of something urgent to do, and just as the old woman got off the bus and drove away, she closed the front and rear doors. I saw the old woman with the old card in her hand, standing blankly where she had just got off the bus and watching the car drive away. My heart seems to have just been whipped by something.
I can't see the scenery outside the window.
Two voices appeared in the depths of the soul. One said, "It's the driver's fault. You should copy down his employee number and complain about him! " "Another said," but you take this bus every day. If the driver retaliates, it will be easy! "! Besides, that old man has nothing to do with you. Are you too nosy? However, I added, "although this is only a small matter, if no one stands up and points out his mistake, then he will think that he is not wrong and will continue like this in the future." Yeah! It is because no one is willing to point out mistakes that there are still various unhealthy phenomena in society.
I made up my mind to write down the driver's employee number before getting off the bus. However, is this really the case? Do I really have to be that fierce, an impressive and intelligent person? Another voice is talking again. No, if not, I will regret it all day.
Finally, before getting off the bus, I walked from the back door to the front door, copied down the driver's employee number and pointed out his mistake. He seemed to realize his mistake and didn't say much.
Perhaps, in the eyes of others, this is only a very small thing, and it has been more than two months, but I have always been proud of my choice. I made the right choice, which may not change anything, but at least it can touch some people's hearts. I believe that one day, society can be infected and become better.