Bing Xin, female, formerly known as Xie Wanying, from Changle, Fujian, is a member of China Association for the Promotion of Democracy. China poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist and essayist. The pen name Bing Xin is taken from There is a Bing Xin in the Jade Pot.
In the morning post of August 19 19, Bing Xin published her first essay "Hearing Feelings on 2 1 Day" and her first novel "Two Houses".
1923 Before and after studying abroad, he began to publish a series of communication essays with the general title "To Young Readers", which became the foundation work of children's literature in China. In Japan, she was hired by Tokyo University as the first foreign female lecturer to teach the course "China New Literature". 195 1 returned to China.
Extended data:
The autumn wind blows. Fuzhou, the former residence of Nanhou Street Bingxin, is quiet and solemn.
Bing Xin's little daughter said softly and affectionately, "The traditional word' love' contains a heart. My mother taught me to love my lover with all my heart and take social responsibility all my life. "
Changle-Bing Xin's ancestral home, in Bing Xin Literature Museum, people mourned her in an endless stream.
"With love, you have everything." This is Bing Xin's century entrustment.
"I have seen her last masterpiece, which is these words. Every word is not formed, she is still writing. I understand that this is what she got from a century of life. " Wang Binggen, president of Bingxin Research Association, said.
In Bingxin Literature Museum, Ni Jianping, a reader who came here specially, said, "Bingxin is a great woman. Her integrity not only brought social love, but also aroused social conscience. "
Looking up, Bing Xin's jade statue sits quietly, accompanied by red roses in full bloom, and the younger generation presents the glory of his life with symbolic means.
Bing Xin said: "I like roses best, because she has hard thorns and rich fragrance, which can't hide her unique style."
19 19 In August, 19-year-old girl Xie Wanying published the first "problem novel" reflecting social reality in her life: two families.
"That was the May 4th lightning, which shocked me to write!" Bing Xin said. From then on, a "red rose with thorns" appeared in China's modern literary world-Bing Xin, a woman writer who tells the truth and writes stories.
Ba Jin said before his death: "Sister Bing Xin was the last elder of the May 4th New Literature Movement. She has been writing for nearly a century and devoted all her love to young people from generation to generation. She is the conscience of China intellectuals. I respect her character and follow her example. " 、
"Love is on the right, sympathy is on the left, walk on both sides of the road of life, sow seeds at any time, blossom at any time, decorate this long journey with fragrant flowers, so that pedestrians who wear branches and brush leaves will not feel pain and tears, nor will they feel sad." Bing Xin practiced the motto of "Give it to a little reader" with her century life, and lit a "little orange lamp" of love for the world.
With you, the light is on.
Bing Xin loves his hometown, his compatriots, his motherland and the world. He soothes readers' hearts with great love, defends national dignity with strong character, and evokes the conscience of the world with endless pens.
At this moment, in late autumn, people in my hometown miss me like the water of Minjiang River.
Xinhuanet-Miss Bingxin's hometown
Pictures of the dead ice pier.
The appearance of Bingdun after his death is only a rumor, not a real event.
The picture of the dead ice pier is not real, it's just a P picture. In fact, the ice shield is the mascot of the Beijing Winter Olympics based on the panda. This is a very cute panda. Big eyes, chubby belly, small heart, full marks for cute skills. The head shell shape of the ice pier is taken from the ice and snow sports helmet, decorated with colorful rings, and the overall image resembles an astronaut, full of futuristic, contemporary and speed sense.
The picture of the dead ice pier and the scariest side of the ice pier are rumors, because there is no ice pier in reality, and there are no cartoons and other film and television works about it, so there is no picture of the dead ice pier. Of course, there are many ice piers in funny pictures on the Internet, all made by some folk craftsmen, and some of them are quite scary.
Copyright of Ice Pier
The exclusive right of the ice pier belongs to the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee. The cartoon image of Ice Shield constitutes an art work, which is protected by the copyright law and restricted by Article 24 of the copyright law on the fair use of works. Unless otherwise stipulated by laws and regulations, no unit or individual may use the image and name of the mascot, including the development, dissemination and sale of related derivatives expressing the work, without the permission of the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee.
The image and name of the mascot shall not be divided, distorted, tampered with or used as part of other patterns. Those who use the mascot image and name according to law shall abide by the relevant technical standards and norms formulated by the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee.
The above content is referenced from: ice pier pier
Introduction to Bing Xin's 20 Characters
Bing Xin, female,190010/0.5-1February 28th, 999, was born in Xie Jia Mansion, Sanfang and Qixiang, Fuzhou, Fujian. She graduated from Wellesley Women's University and is a member of China Association for Promoting Democracy. China poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist and essayist.
Bing Xin's composition is 50 words.
Grandma Bing Xin is very strong. At the age of 80, Grandma Bing Xin couldn't move her right side because of cerebral thrombosis, and neither could Lian Bi. Then her leg was broken again. However, Grandma Bing Xin didn't give up. She practiced writing with a pen like a pupil, and finally she was able to write again.
Grandma Bing Xin is very diligent. Grandma Bing Xin has a motto: read more books, read good books and read good books. Grandma Bing Xin never stopped reading and writing in her life, from 19 to 94. Just before her death, she never forgot to recite nursery rhymes with her family.
Extended data:
In artistic expression, Bing Xin is good at drawing lessons from and using lyric techniques. In the works, sometimes the feelings are expressed directly in the narrator's tone, and sometimes the author's subjective will is revealed through the characters' language or psychological activities, which makes the novel have a strong lyrical color.
Bing Xin often likes to use the first-person narrative technique. With "I" as the clue, the story is full of affection, telling what you have seen, heard, suffered, felt and touched, so that readers can feel that everything that happens in the novel is the truth of life, without fictional weaving, romantic colors, artificial drama conflicts and kitsch humor, which is true and cordial.
This provides the author with greater freedom, can start and end more flexibly, turn and change, and express the author's strong feelings more easily.
Bing Xin's prose embodies the unique style emphasized by Bing Xin himself. Bing Xin is good at capturing fragments of life and weaving them in her own emotional waves. With keen eyesight and meticulous thinking, he melts his inner feelings with the trigger of external things, combines feelings with scenes, and gives readers lofty beauty enjoyment. Bing Xin attaches great importance to the connotation beauty of prose.
Her prose is novel and ingenious. In the seemingly ordinary theme, the creativity is surprising and the structure is changeable. This is a beautiful emotion condensed from her ideological attainments and living environment.
A short article written by Bing Xin.
Bing Xin is a female writer who became famous earlier in modern and contemporary China and has a wide readership. Her novels, poems and essays are warmly welcomed by readers and closely watched by critics. The following are three selected short stories by Bing Xin for your reference.
Selected Short and Beautiful Prose of Bing Xin Part I: Circle
Introduction to Indian Philosophy: "The prince is a lion and growls:' If I am constantly suffering from illness and death, I must not give up three virtues and three bodhis, otherwise I will return it. ""feeling. I just died, and a dark and tight circle has covered me from a distance, but I don't think so. Gradually, when I developed outward, I felt restricted and bound, as if I was shrinking inward-so scared! There is only darkness, distress and sadness in the circle.
It shrank a little, so I got up and ran along the side to let out a cry. And the result? It still covers me tightly and tightly, and I can only stand in the middle silently and can't move any more.
It shrunk a little bit, and I got up and ran along the side again. I'm tired after counting too many times-circle! I can't resist you after all? Will you be imprisoned here forever?
Get up! Be patient! Work hard!
Ah! This tight circle finally broke down. When you look outside, there is only light, happiness and freedom outside the circle. As long as I can jump out of the circle!
There is hope for the future. I can't resist forever I won't be trapped in it forever. Work hard! Be patient! Look at me splitting this distress and sadness into two and jumping out of the circle!
Selected Essays of Bing Xin Part II: A Bird
I remembered something I saw under the yard tree the day before yesterday. There is a bird whose nest is on the highest branch. Its feathers are not plump enough to fly far. Chatting in the nest every day, talking to two old birds,
They all feel very happy.
This morning, it woke up. Both old birds have gone to feed. It looked out and saw bright sunshine, green trees and beautiful scenery on the earth. Suddenly, its little brain is full of new ideas. It fluttered its feathers and flew to the branches, releasing songs praising "Nature". Its sound is full of clarity, lightness and beauty. When singing, it seems that "nature" is listening with a smile. There are many children under the tree. Hearing the song, they all looked up-the birds came out to sing every day, and the children came to listen every day. Finally, they want to catch it.
Come out again! It was about to make a sound when suddenly it snorted. A marble flew from below. It turned over and fell from the tree. The two old birds in the Xieci flew like arrows, caught it and carried it back to the nest. Its blood dripped from the gap in the tree to the ground.
Since then, this song has disappeared. Those children want to look up at it and listen to its singing, but they can't.
Selected Short and Beautiful Prose of Bing Xin Part III: Laughter
The rain died down and the light came in from behind the curtains. Open the window and have a look, ah! The clouds are gone, and the residual water droplets on the leaves reflect the moon, flashing and moving like a thousand fluorescent spots. -I didn't expect such a beautiful picture after the bitter rain!
Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. When I turned around, I was dazzled, and everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; The faint light is only immersed in the angels in the paintings on the wall. -angels in white, holding flowers, holding wings, smiled at me.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere. When do I "I unconsciously sit under the window and think quietly."
The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out an impression of five years ago. A long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch gurgled. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke. Bowed crescent moon, hanging in the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of white things. The donkey passed by with no intention of turning back. He smiled at me barefoot with flowers in his arms.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere!" I still want to-silently.
Another curtain of gravity appeared, which slowly opened and poured out the impression of ten years ago. -The rain under the thatched eaves dripped on the clothes. The blisters on the edge of the earth steps are turning. The wheat ridges and grape racks in front of the door are very bright yellow. -After a while, it finally cleared up and went downhill quickly. I saw the moon coming head-on from the sea, and suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, stopped and turned around. The old woman in this small room-leaning against the door, holding flowers, smiled at me slightly. This same subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and mixes together.
At this time, I feel relaxed and happy, such as entering the celestial world and returning to my hometown. San Xiao, who appeared in front of me, melted for a while and could not see the harmony of love for a while.
A 700-word essay, without any modification or carving, just touches and dyes at will, and outlines three pictures: an angel in a painting, a village girl by the roadside and an old woman in a hut, each holding a bunch of flowers.
There is no sound, only three pictures. Three white flowers set off a smile, sincere, pure and natural. However, in the silence, I clearly and vaguely heard a lyric music that gently turned around. The sound of the violin is endless, and people talk in a low voice, so that they unconsciously follow it into a quiet world and are deeply intoxicated. Looking intently, the sound of the piano came to an abrupt end. At the end of the song, there was only San Xiao, three white flowers and an ethereal one. There seems to be laughter in the ethereal world, so soft and sweet, filled with pure love.