Get rid of the shadow of death a day earlier. I believe that one morning, when the young storks flutter their powerful wings one after another, fly from the ingot-shaped nest to the blue sky and disappear at the end of the horizon, they will take a long breath and be completely relieved. There seems to be a nest of proud chicks in front of it, all begging with their mouths open, and the naughty boy wants to jump up and grab food from its mouth; It wriggled its beak and hid it, burning its skull to test it, as if it were a little unsure who to feed this aphid to; Finally, it vomited aphids into a corner of the ruins of the old nest, probably for its favorite old Yao, with a hint of pride on his trance-like face. It took off again, taking an orange berry and feeding it to the ruins of the old nest. All the food it feeds falls under the tree without exception, but it completely ignores it and still flies without regrets, trying to find it, feeding it carefully and playing the role of mother meticulously. It makes my nose a little sour.
Xu Niang and Lao Mao stood on the ruins of their lair, singing long and short in the face of the bloody sunset. Storks are natural experts in imitating various sounds, and can make dozens of different sounds. I've never heard such a sharp bird cry, like a wounded jackal, like a frightened Luming Literature, like a runaway mouse, like a hungry owl whining ... It's no exaggeration to describe it as a ghostly cry.
Hearing the scalp tingling, I got goose bumps all over, and my heart felt terrible.
This is the accusation of blood, the cry of tears, the grief of the heart and the cry of the soul! Childhood-Gorky's Tracker on the Volga River rotates in the middle of the kitchen, as if on fire, stepping on small steps, boots and heels knocking on the floor, shaking the tableware on the table and cupboard. After a while, he opened his arms again, like an eagle spreading its wings, dancing his legs so fast that he could hardly see him stepping; He suddenly screamed or squatted down and flew around like a golden swift. His silk shirt is shining, trembling and floating, reflecting everything around him. Sasha, uncle Mikhail's son, listened attentively with a nervous look. He has been leaning towards Yakov, staring at the guitar, with his mouth open and his mouth watering. Sometimes he was so absorbed in listening that he accidentally fell off the chair and quickly supported the floor with his hands. At this time, he simply sat on the floor, staring at a pair of dull eyes and continued to listen. Grandpa's thin but symmetrical body snuggled up to me. He talked about the hard years of his childhood. His words are rude and difficult to understand, but he speaks fluently and methodically.
His green eyes are full of enthusiasm and sparkle, and his golden hair stands up happily; His harsh voice became thick and heavy, boasting in front of me:
"You came here by boat, and the steam sent you here, but when I was young, I had to pull the fiber on my own and sail against the current on the Volga River. The boat was walking in the water, and I pulled the optical fiber barefoot on the shore, stepping on the sharp sand, so I pulled it from sunrise to night. After the sun exposure, the skull is oily and the head is like melted pig iron, but it still needs to be pulled. My head is low, my bones rattle, my face is full of sweat, I can't open my eyes, I can't see the road, I want to cry in my heart, and my tears can't stop flowing. Alisha, you know, you can't say anything! I can only bury my head in the fiber and keep walking. Sometimes I slip off the rope and fall down, still gnawing mud in my mouth, exhausted with happiness. I can catch my breath and have a rest after falling down. You see, this is what God saw with his own eyes. What a life people live before the merciful Lord Jesus! ..... In this way, I walked three times along the banks of the mother river Volga: from Simbirsk to Ribinsk; From saratov to here; From astrakhan to Makarev Fair. These three trips are thousands of miles! In the fourth year, I became the foreman on the barge, because I showed my intelligence to my boss! ……"
Listening to grandpa's story, it seems to me that he grew up like a cloud, from a thin little old man to a Hercules in a fairy tale. He pulled a huge gray cargo ship up the Volga River by himself. ...
Sometimes he would jump out of bed, swaggering with his hands, and sing the songs of the trackers while showing me how they walked with a rope and how they drained water from the cabin. Later, he jumped back into bed like a young man, his movements became beautiful and abnormal, and his voice became deep and heavy. He went on to say:
"Listen, Aletha, when we stop to have a rest, things are different. In the summer evening, near Liguli town, we usually find a place at the foot of that green mountain, build a bonfire and cook porridge on it. A poor tracker sang his favorite song, and all the people howled after him. The shouts are deafening and make you tremble all over. At this point, the Volga river seems to be getting faster, and the river rushes up like a runaway wild horse and goes straight into the sky! At this time, all the pain is like dust, blowing in the wind. Sometimes, just after everyone sings, the porridge in the pot overflows, and the tracker who specializes in cooking has to hold the spoon. You can enjoy it while playing, but you can't forget what you should do! "
Someone poked around the house several times and asked grandpa to go out, but I stopped him every time. I asked:
"Don't go!"
Grandpa always smiles and waves to people and says:
"Wait a minute ..."
Straw House-Cao Wenxuan
Yau Ma Tei Primary School is a hut of the same color. More than a dozen straw houses seem to be regular, but they seem to be irregularly connected. They are used as classrooms, offices, teachers' dormitories or activity rooms and warehouses. Before and after these huts or between them, there are always some arrangements, or a bunch of two bamboos, or three or two roses, or a colorful canna, or simply a small piece of grass mixed with small flowers. These arrangements, without a trace of deliberate, seem to be where the campus was originally, so it was. This is a straw house. It doesn't look high, but the roof is big and the inside is spacious. This kind of straw house is actually very expensive. It is not made of ordinary straw or wheat straw, but made of thatch on the beach 300 miles away. Thatched grass grows vigorously on the beach, and grows very resilient under the sea breeze and exposure without shelter. When the sun shines, it shines like copper wire, and when the sea breeze blows, it can make a metallic sound. The house built with this grass is immortal. All the rich people here save money to build this kind of house. The grass house in Yau Ma Tei Primary School is elegant and luxurious. The grass selection is stricter than any other one here, and the roof is very thick. Therefore, the grass house in Yau Ma Tei Primary School is warm in winter and cool in summer. Under the pure and quiet sky in the countryside, these houses exude a quaint atmosphere, but when the sun shines in the sky, the golden luster on the roof shines again. Sima obviously saw disappointment in Jiang's face. He didn't know what he wanted to express, and he repeated a sentence to Jiang over and over again. Jiang didn't understand for a moment, shook his head for a moment, and looked at the child with his eyes for a moment, meaning: Do you understand? All the children below shook their heads. Xima finally understood that he was thrown into a world where language communication was impossible. He anxiously looked at dozens of pairs of vacant eyes, bowed his head, and felt the kind of depression and loneliness that only dumb people have.
Jiang Yilun waved and asked Xima to sit down.
Later, Sima looked at the blackboard with empty eyes.
After class, the children felt that they had held back for 45 minutes and finally had a chance to talk. They either screamed loudly, or talked to each other at the speed of boiling water and beating the lid of the pot. The whole campus is too noisy to hear anyone.
Hima, however, leans against a buttonwood tree alone, thinking about the town, the primary school and the children who speak the same accent as him in a speechless state. Bronze sunflower-Cao Wenxuan
Bronze will follow the sunflower, eat the words she knows into her heart one by one, write them on the ground one by one, and write them in a notebook. Their study is everywhere, anytime and anywhere. When you see a cow, write down "cow". When you see a sheep, write "sheep". Watching cows eat grass, writing "cows eat grass", watching sheep fight, writing "sheep fight", writing "heaven", "earth", "wind", "rain", "duck", "duckling", "white pigeon" and "black pigeon" used to be beautiful in the eyes of bronze people.
In the original way, they become more beautiful, more real and more likable.
No matter whether it is windy or rainy, bronze, which always runs in the field, is much quieter than before.
The brilliant sunflower taught her brother Bronze one by one the words she had learned in various strange and wise ways. These words, like a knife, are engraved in the memory of bronze and cannot be forgotten for a lifetime. His calligraphy is also very good. Although it is not as formal as sunflower's handwriting, it has another taste: plain and powerful.
No one in the barley field noticed all this. Xiangzi on the camel-Lao She's early autumn night, there is a breeze in the starlight leaves. Xiangzi looked up at the high Tianhe and sighed. On such a cold day, his chest is so wide, but he feels as if there is not enough air and his chest is stuffy. He wanted to sit down and cry bitterly. With his own physique, his own endurance, and his own strength, he can't maintain anything by treating people like pigs and dogs. He not only hates the Yang family, but also feels hopeless. I'm afraid his life will not get any better. Pulling the bedroll, he walked more and more slowly, as if he were not a Xiangzi who could run ten miles with his legs crossed. No matter what he was afraid of, Xiangzi's shame and boredom condensed into a ball and soon stopped. He was speechless and stared at Tigress. She is also very strange today. I don't know whether it was illuminated by electric light or pink. Her face is much whiter than usual. When her face turned white, she hid a lot of her ferocity. There is indeed some rouge on her lips, which makes Tigress bring out some charm. Xiangzi was surprised to see this, and his heart was even more panic, because he had never regarded her as a woman at ordinary times, and suddenly he felt a little embarrassed to see this red lip. She wore a light green silk jacket on her upper body and blue crepe trousers on her lower body, with fat legs. Under the light of the electric light, the green coat shines with some soft and slightly sad mercerization, because it is short, revealing a little white waistband, making the green more obvious and plain. The fat black trousers below were slightly moved by the breeze, like some gloomy air, trying to get rid of the thief's bright light and connect with the night. Xiangzi didn't dare to look at it any more. He bowed his head blankly, with a bright little green coat in his heart. Tigress always knew she wasn't dressed like that. With Liu's financial resources, she can wear silks and satins every day, but she always talks to the driver all day. She always wears clothes and trousers, even if there are some colors, it is not eye-catching on the fabric. Xiangzi seemed to see something new, familiar and fresh, and a little confused. South of the city-Lin Haiying
I stood in front of the camels and watched them chew grass: so ugly face, so long teeth, so quiet posture. When they chew, their upper and lower teeth grind alternately, their big nostrils are steaming, and their beards are covered with foam. I'm so surprised that my teeth are moving.
When the bell rings, the graduation ceremony will begin. Looking at the sky outside, it's a little cloudy. I suddenly thought, will dad suddenly get out of bed and bring me a flower coat? I thought again, when will dad get better? Why is mom's eyes red and swollen this morning? The big pots of pomegranate and oleander in the yard were not covered with hemp residue this year. He was killed by the Japanese for his uncle, so he vomited blood. In May Festival, pomegranate flowers are not as big as red. If autumn comes, will dad still buy so many chrysanthemums and fill our yard, eaves and flower racks in the living room?
How much dad likes flowers.
Every day when he comes back from work, we all wait for him at the door. He pushed the straw hat behind his head, picked up his brother, passed the faucet, picked up the watering can full of water, and walked to the backyard humming. The first thing he did when he got home was to water the flowers. At that time, the sun was going down, and there was a cool breeze blowing in the yard. Dad picked a jasmine flower and put it in the thin chicken sister's hair. Chen's uncle said to his father, "Lao Lin, you like flowers so much that your wife gave birth to a bunch of daughters!" " "I have four sisters and only two younger brothers. I am only 12 years old. ...
Mom and dad are in the yard, mom is holding her little sister, and dad is cutting flowers. He said that there are too many leaves in oleander, so there will be fewer flowers, and some leaves should be removed. He tied the branch with a rope again, so that the oleander wouldn't be so scattered. He tied the string to the morning glory by the wall and nailed it to the height of the fence. The morning sun shines on this wall. All the morning glories are red, purple, yellow and blue, but it's not morning, and several morning glories have withered. During the Ming and Qing Dynasties, most halls were built outside the front door. At that time, the six departments of officials, leaders, soldiers and punishments were all located on the east and west sides of the front door, separated by an outer wall. When foreigners come to Beijing, it is naturally more convenient for them to live in the front door, whether they are scholars who take the exam or officials who handle affairs. As a result, people, businessmen and officials from all over the country, taking fellow villagers as units, began to raise funds to build large and small courtyards in this area, much like today's local offices. For the sake of recording, traveling and returning home, it was logical. I'd like to recommend another good book: The Empire of Daqin —— Sun Haohui is excerpted from the Empire of Daqin —— The fifth book, Iron and Blood Civilization. Reading Shang Jun's book is like climbing Xiong Junfeng to see the size of the mountain, with the heart of decisive battle surging in your chest.
Reading "Lu's Spring and Autumn Annals", we have come all the way from a remote and wild place. The ups and downs of the dynasties are vivid and vivid, and there are so many ups and downs stories. Whether you agree or not, you will naturally feel sorry.
Reading Laozi is an exploration of infinite profound wisdom, which may reveal a rare treasure or scoop up a useless straw; It is like a strange stone in the Wang Yang. Some people regard it as the top of Wan Ren, some people regard it as a comfortable pillow, some people regard it as a magic weapon, and some people regard it as a medicine stone for clearing the heart. However, no matter how you try to figure it out, its soul is shrouded in endless mystery, which makes you feel ordinary and insignificant in front of the wise.
Reading Zhuangzi is mysterious, free and easy, profound and fascinating. It's a mirage and life and death. With an elusive state of mind haunting you, you can lament Wan Li's soaring but unaccounted for Kunpeng, or indignantly despise the chirping and real sparrows, but you don't know what you are after all.
Reading Mozi is like approaching a flaming bonfire in the dark, which makes people feel hot all over. I hope I can't melt into flames and swords at once, burn myself and clean up the turbid world.
Mencius is eloquent, and his decadent political views make people happy, but his subtle rhetoric makes people happy.
The Analects of Confucius is a fragmented and honest admonition and comment. If you don't want to go back to ancient times, even if you have read all the intensive reading, you don't know how to stand in this struggling world.
Xunzi is a fair judge, and skeptics may find a judgment in it, but if there is nothing to read, it is difficult to understand its essence.
Gongsun Zilong is an ingenious exposition, humorous and wise. Even if it refuses to accept it, it is a great pleasure to keep pure with a smile. ...
Everything is wrong, so people can't tell themselves exactly and reflect on themselves.
Everything is wrong is undoubtedly a masterpiece of legalists. The breadth and depth of this new legalist work are unprecedented, and it is difficult to figure out its essence at first reading, and only after intensive reading can we appreciate its indestructibility. Fundamentally speaking, the biggest difference of Han Feizi is that it combines the three legalists (rule of law, rule of technology and rule of situation) into one, and reconstructs a grand legalist school. As for the school of rule of law with Shang Yang as its axis, Han Feizi is as clear and firm as Shang Jun, but it is more specific, but there is no new creation.
Han Fei's innovation lies in bringing the rule of technology and the rule of situation into the legalists' thought of rule of law and forging it again, expanding the thought of rule of law into an unprecedented "three-rule legalist" and actually becoming a master of the new legalists in the Warring States period. There are three theories of law, technique and potential, all of which have their origins before: the most obvious theory of rule of law is Shang Yang of Li Kui, the most obvious theory of rule of technique is Shen Buhai, and the most obvious theory of rule of potential is Shendao. In the eyes of hundred schools of thought in the Warring States period, although there are differences in the theory of "rule of law and technical potential", the fundamental point is the same, which is based on the recognition of the rule of law. Only in this way, in the Warring States period, the theory of magic potential was regarded as an interconnected and interactive whole, known as the Legalist school. However, this general naming can not be recognized by legalists. Among legalists, the distinction between the three theories is very clear, and no one will confuse law, technique and potential. It can be said that there are actually three schools of legalism, and it is difficult for them to integrate with each other.