Excerpt from a 300-word inspirational essay Part I: Zhang Xiaofeng's Memories of Time Past.
Spring must be like this: the withered stems full of dark leaves and flowers cling to an old root, and the roof beams of thousands of families in the north are bullied by snow and snow, gently supporting an empty bird's nest. Then, suddenly, one day, peach blossoms captured the water profiles of all the mountain villages. Willow trees control the royal ditch and the folk river head-the spring water is like Julian Waghann with a clear-cut flag, which is beautiful because of long-term pious prayer.
As for the name of spring, there must have been such a story: before the Book of Songs, before the Historical Records and before the characterization of Cang Xie, a lamb suddenly felt juicy when eating grass, a child suddenly felt soaring when flying a kite, his legs suffering from wind pain suddenly felt comfortable, and Qian Qian suddenly felt the blood of water when washing yarn by the river? When they rushed up to tell each other in surprise, they decided to pout their mouths into the shape of whistles and say the names of the seasons in a sweet whisper. Spring? .
Excerpt from a 300-word inspirational essay Part II: Get used to being alone.
Accustomed to a person walking in the street, watching the footsteps of passers-by, savoring their own happiness and sadness, no laughter, no breath of the past, nothing in my heart.
Accustomed to a person in the room to meditate, think about friends, think about the past prosperity and excitement, think about the so-called love, do I care? Can I not care?
Accustomed to looking at photos alone. I don't like photos. What I like is laughter. What does it matter? I just can't hear the laughter in the photo, but it's the only thing that can accompany me.
Accustomed to a person looking at the vast night sky, full of stars, let their own loss ripple, wantonly flow, flash, until they drown themselves, but in the distance are dark clouds.
Accustomed to sleeping alone, no worries, no palpitations, enjoying the bed that belongs only to me, enjoying the temperature that belongs only to me, and indulging myself unscrupulously in my dreams. The hesitation and excitement of the day are all yesterday, and getting used to too many people will make me get used to it.
Accustomed to being alone. There is a lot of time to collect tears. Countless times of decadence and hesitation, until you can directly fall on another person's shoulder?
Get used to your own music. A person's music is the deepest moan of the soul. Maybe only you can understand, but you still hope to impress the future world. Is there a tearful vicissitudes, infinite confusion and obsessed despair in the note? Believe it, someone will always come to listen to your swan song! Accustomed to being alone!
Excerpt from a 300-word inspirational essay Part III: Spring in the Garden
Spring always knocks on the bamboo door of the garden first, and then lights the torch that went out last year. At this time, the lonely winter day is like a biting wolf, abandoning the array and fleeing in the sudden flame. The flame confuses its lonely eyes, and the floral skirt of the earth confuses it. With its withered tail between its legs, it shrank back step by step.
The spring breeze comes in violently, and the garden is like a natural fire pond, with stars flying everywhere. The early grandmother stepped on the air and fell in? The big girl embroidered mandarin ducks at the window? In the old songs, I can't extricate myself. Her peach blossom face is vivid in our lazy spring dream.
Peach, willow and green, vegetables arching the ground, the promise made when I was a child sprouted again, and all loves was beaming. A white grass seed, how did it fall into the soil, and with what courage did it hold the arm of the season? Grandma's big mouth reveals the secret of spring.
Excerpt from 300-word inspirational prose Part IV: Edna? Saint Vincent? Miller's ode to spring
In spring, the soft soil exudes a fresh and moist atmosphere, and the wheat seedlings awakened after the winter break are full of vitality, showing great vitality; Singing in the canal water, like the milk of a mother's love, is integrated with the blood of the land and wheat seedlings. By the riverside, the blue waves are clear, fish and shrimp swim, frogs and drums come one after another, willows dance, sunshine and water waves complement each other, and gold and silver spill. Spring is in the sky, swallows are whispering, butterflies are flying, kites are flying high, the thick spring is filled with white clouds, and sweet laughter spreads for nine days. In the orchard in spring, red apricots are out of the wall, peach blossoms are in full bloom, pear trees are snowing, bees and butterflies are chasing and playing, brewing the sweetness and fragrance of life?
Love spring, sow spring and gather spring! Care and care for spring with our words and deeds, weave and water spring with our painstaking efforts, care for the wind, birds, birds and flowers that care about spring, weave and water the charming pastoral scenery of spring, and let spring stay with us forever and stay in our beloved home in the depths of our hearts?