Excerpts from some beautiful paragraphs (5 pages)

True friendship True friendship depends on nothing, career, wealth and status, experience, status and circumstances. He essentially rejected utility, ownership and contract. He is the mutual echo and confirmation between independent personalities. He makes people lonely but not lonely, and explains the meaning of their own existence. Therefore, the so-called friends are those who make each other live warmer and more comfortable. Friendship is profound because there is nothing, whether it is balanced or unbalanced. Friendship is spiritual sustenance. Sometimes he doesn't need too many words, just a tacit understanding. In this world, you can have no achievements, but you can't live without friendship. Help your career with friendship, and you will succeed; Find friendship for your career, and friendship will die. The two are irreversible. People need to contact many people in their life, so friendship has two levels. Friendship in a broad sense and friendship in a strict sense are quite stiff without the former, and it is difficult to be profound without the latter. Friendship in a broad sense is the bright side of a person's whole resume, but no matter how wide it is, we should be alert to evil, hypocrisy and betrayal; Friendship in a strict sense is the spiritual destination that a person pursues all his life. But when we don't find true friendship, we can only keep looking, and we can't stop at our feet. Therefore, you can't speak out of turn. Once you get real friendship. We should cherish it more. Is it easy to come to this world once? Is it easy to meet once? Is it easy to call a friend? We can only learn to cherish! Tears are so close to me, and my back is so far away. The first time I cried in front of everyone was many years later, when I was still a trainee teacher and listening to other teachers. At that time, the old teacher was talking about Zhu Ziqing's Back. Listening, I burst into tears out of control, causing more than forty students in my class to look at me in surprise. I thought of my mother. As long as I can remember, I knew that she had white hair. My mother is not my real mother. My parents gave birth to me, but they didn't support me. Niang is a famous silly woman in the village. She is really stupid. She talks nonsense all day and can't even take care of herself. It is said that she gave birth to her mother, and the moment she hugged me was surprisingly calm. Her face is full of maternal brilliance, but tears are dripping down. More than a month after my mother gave birth to me, I was taken away from that mountain village by public security personnel, and my father and I began a long sentence. And I, from then on, became my mother's child. That year, my mother was forty-three years old. At that time, everyone in the village thought that my mother could not support me. Such a stupid woman can't even take care of herself, let alone wait on a child who is just full of months. However, the villagers finally understood from the shock that my mother was normal and sober with me around. She can skillfully cook millet porridge into powder and feed it slowly into my mouth; Like all mothers, she can pour the most delicate feelings and love into me. People sometimes wonder that I may be the medicine given to her by God. My mother was in a bad mood when she came to this village. Since then, she has been staying here, providing people with endless topics after dinner. Even in this environment, I have grown up smoothly, and I am better than other children. As long as I can remember, the most common things are Niang's white hair and tears. Others say that my mother never shed tears before, but since I was born, I have wiped my tears all day. I have long known that mother is different from other children's mothers. She can't talk to me. More often, she talks to herself alone and doesn't know what to say. She has no kindest smile, only endless tears. I can't even feel her concern. I don't care about anything except three meals a day I am allowed to play like a sheep in the wild. Because of this, I became more and more unruly and indulgent. After school, I didn't get any cold shoulder. The folk customs here are simple, and no one laughs at me. No matter how naughty the child is, he will take the initiative to come to play with me, regardless of my stupid mother. In fact, since I was born, my mother has had almost nothing unusual except talking to herself and crying every day. As far as I can remember, my mother only hit me twice, and both of them hit me hard. The first time I went swimming in the river, there was a clear and bright river in the west of the village. In summer, all the children in the village went swimming in the water, and so did I. Never mind that my mother suddenly jumped into the water, pulled me up, broke a wicker and tried to smoke on me, leaving a blood stain. I don't hate her at all, I just don't understand. I climbed to the top of a big tree to pick wild fruits, but she ignored me. I climbed the steepest cliff in the western hills, but she ignored me. I hit the children in the neighboring village with stones, and she ignored me. She only swam in such a shallow river, but she beat me so hard. Another time, I was already in junior high school in the town. One day, she came to school to give me a meal and met me at the school gate joking with a girl. At that time, she threw the grain bag on her shoulder and rushed to hit me like crazy, and my nose was bleeding. Although I am unknown so, I still don't hate her. At that time, I could understand many things, and I also learned my life experience from others. Such a woman can raise me and send me to school, and pay a thousand times more than others. I am grateful to my mother. Although I can't communicate with her, I can already feel that love. Besides, there is no mother in the world who doesn't hit her children. She only hit me twice! If there is one thing I don't like about my mother, it is her tears. Crying whenever and wherever you see me makes me feel uncomfortable from the bottom of my heart. Other people's children come home once a month, and all the mothers are happy from ear to ear, while my mother always greets me with tears. Sometimes I ask her, "Mom, why do you cry as soon as you see me? You'd better stop raising me! " "At that moment, she was still in tears and couldn't say a word. My mother has never been close to me, at least not since I can remember. She seldom hugs me, even if she holds my hand. This is a lot, I didn't even think about it. Mom is not normal. Why bother about her? When I was in school in the town, my mother gave me rations once a month. She always comes to the school gate at one o'clock on Saturday afternoon, when I am waiting there. She put the sack on her shoulder on the ground, glanced at me and turned away. I often stare blankly at her drifting back. She sometimes wipes her eyes with her sleeves, and the breeze blows her messy white hair. Every time I watched my mother's back disappear on the street corner, unexpectedly, it gradually came into my dream. After being admitted to County No.1 Middle School, the number of visits by my mother has decreased, and it has become once every few months. The main thing is to send me money, and it is difficult for my mother to earn money by herself. The money, including my tuition, was funded by the villagers. Those kind people have never stopped helping us since I entered that house. One day last semester in senior three, I just passed an exam. A female classmate and I talked about the exam when we were walking to the dormitory. In front of the dormitory, I found my mother standing there, dusty and unpretentious. She must have walked three miles. Seeing me and my female classmate, she paused, rushed over, held her hand high, stopped for a while, slowly landed on my face and touched it gently. At that moment, I felt a great touch in my heart. She took a roll of money out of her pocket and put it in my pocket. She looked at me for a while, tears welled up in her eyes, and then turned away. I turned to a lesbian and said, "This is my mother ..." That was the last time I saw my mother. One night a month later, she passed away quietly. This year, she was 62 years old. I often think of the last time I saw my mother. She fixed in my life with the warmest and gentlest touch. After being admitted to the normal school, I moved back to the village to register. The villagers put together a lot of money for me and set up several tables of rice to see me off at the primary school. During the dinner, the old village head told me about Niang's past, which was the first time I saw her route. The old village chief said that Niang was a villager in a neighboring village and her husband died in a coal well. She dragged a son to live a hard life, as if she had supported me. After her son went to middle school, his grades got worse and worse because of puppy love, so it was no use asking her to discipline him. In the end, she let it go, but later, the girl who fell in love with her son changed her feelings, so her son dropped out of school and was in a trance all day. She thought it would get better after a long time, but finally one day, the child fell into the river in the south of the village and drowned. From then on, she became crazy, lost her home and began to live like a beggar. It was not until she came to this village that she settled down here. At that moment, I suddenly remembered the two times my mother hit me, and my heart suddenly became clear. I feel that the place where my mother hit me began to hurt again until it hurt my heart. Here comes my tear drops. In later life, thinking about my mother has become a habit, and I often feel tears in my eyes. I'm watching every road, and I can't find a stumbling figure in my hazy eyes. My mother's tears are all in my eyes now, and my back is far away. My dearest mother, her tears and back have become heartache that I will never get rid of in my life.

Enlightenment of two multiple-choice questions in an elective course in colleges and universities. The professor came into the classroom with a smile and said to us, "I was commissioned by an organization to do a questionnaire survey." Please do me a favor. " Hearing this, there was a slight discussion in the classroom. College classes are inherently boring and much more fun. When the questionnaire was sent down, there were only two questions at first glance. Question 1: He loves her very much. Her thin oval face, curved slices and fair complexion are beautiful and moving. But one day, she was unfortunately in a car accident. After her recovery, she left several big and ugly scars on her face. Do you think he will love her as always? He will. B, he won't. C. He may ask a second question: She loves him very much. He is a business elite, elegant and calm, and dares to fight. Suddenly one day, he went bankrupt. Do you think she will still love him as before? She will. B, she won't. C, she may. We'll be ready soon. After the questionnaire was collected, the professor found that in the first question, 10% students chose A, 10% students chose B, and 80% students chose C. The second question, 30% students chose A, 30% students chose B, and 40% students chose C. "It seems that the disfigurement of beautiful women is more unbearable than the bankruptcy of men." The professor smiled. "When doing these two questions, subconsciously, did you regard him and her as lovers?" "yes." We answered neatly. "However, the title itself doesn't say that he and she are lovers, does it?" The professor seems to look at everyone meaningfully. "Now, let's suppose that if he in the first question is her father and she in the second question is his mother. Let you do these two questions again, will you still stick to your original choice? " When the questionnaire was sent to us again, the classroom suddenly became very quiet, and the immature faces became dignified and profound. A few minutes later, the questionnaire was collected and the professor counted it again. We chose 100% for both questions. The professor's tone is deep and emotional: "in this world, there is a kind of love that is eternal and selfless;" Not changing with the seasons. Not because of fame and fortune, this is the love of parents! " Be kind to your parents, they will always love you the most. Afraid of my pain, you didn't pull me. I was four years old and you were sent to a remote mountain village to teach. When you left, dad and you had a heated argument. He said that you would rather go to the backcountry to teach those strange children than teach your own son. Dad also said that if you must leave, he will divorce you. And you really left. Hold me when you leave, take off the necklace around your neck and put it on me. I asked when you would go home. You thought about it and drew a horizontal line on the wall. You said your mother would come back when you grew so tall. I believe you, stand upright at the root of the wall every day and look up at that horizontal line. One day, I found it was gone, and I couldn't stop crying. Dad hit me in a rage. He said that I would never grow as high as the horizontal line, and you didn't want me. After you left for half a year, dad took an aunt home. He asked me to call her mother, and then I did. When I was ten, you came back. You are black and thin, as if covered with dust. How can I connect you with your mother? She is so beautiful, young and with a faint fragrance. But you called out my name, and I gave you a push like a conditioned reflex and said loudly, who are you? You are not allowed to enter my house. Dad came back from the supermarket to buy food, and he looked at you stupefied. Dad said, call mom quickly. I opened my mouth and blurted it out, aunt. Later, you came to me, and I posted it on the door to eavesdrop on your conversation: composition has always been his weakness, and I want to tutor him. Once a week, the time is set on Saturday afternoon. I thought you used the weekend to hold remedial classes, and many children would listen to your lectures. Actually, I'm the only one. You rented a very small house. As soon as I entered, I saw a big photo hanging on the wall. This is our photo. You held me in your arms. I cried with my mouth open. It's ugly. This is the only photo you have taken with you for many years. You brought a lot of snacks. I really wanted to eat them, but I hesitated. I said, dad won't let me take other people's things. There are tears in my eyes when I am in a daze. You said, am I "someone else"? I silently opened a packet of plum, and there was one in it, which was very sour until it reached my heart. To be honest, you spoke badly in that class. You left me a worse composition topic: my mother. I handed in my written composition, and your eyes lit up and you couldn't wait to open them. Looking at it line by line, the light in your eyes gradually becomes dim. I'm not writing about you. You smile reluctantly, and you ask, is this all true? I nodded. I'm relieved that you sigh gently. You said, in fact, I envy her. She accomplished everything I wanted to do but couldn't. You were sent to teach in the west again and came back three years later. You left without saying goodbye because you were afraid that I would be sad. I study hard just to be with you as soon as possible. Two years later, I was admitted to a university in Beijing with high marks. I am eighteen years old, half a head taller than my father, and I have grown into a strong little man. I think I've finally grown up and can take care of you in the future. That summer vacation, I couldn't hold back my anxiety any longer, pestering my father to take me to the west to see you. Then, my father shed tears. He silently took me to a low mountain, pointed to a raised mound and said, your mother is here. I remember a very old legend. Two identical women said that the child was their own. They held the child's arms separately, and neither of them let go. God said, catch it. Whoever pulls the child here is his mother. Finally, God looked at the empty-handed woman and said, Son, she is your mother. Because she is afraid of your pain, she doesn't want to pull you hard. I also understand why you haven't quarreled with my father once in all these years. You gave yourself all the pain, leaving me only the faint handwriting printed on the stationery and this olive pendant on my chest. I took it off and buried it in the mound. It has been stuck in my heart for many years, burning my body temperature, burning all my thoughts and love for you. Mom, I cried softly, did you hear that? A seven-flavored fish head is eating at a friend's house. As soon as a plate of braised fish was served, my friend quietly reached out and put the fish head in his bowl. On the way back, on the dimly lit road, I couldn't help wondering, "After eating together so many times, why didn't I know you liked fish heads?" He replied, "I don't like fish heads." "Since the childhood, the fish head has always been my mother. She always said: a fish head has seven flavors, and my father and I will eat the good meat on the fish with peace of mind. Until one day I read a book, which said that all women like to eat fish heads after becoming mothers. It turned out that my mother lied to me for twenty years. " The friend said with a smile, the voice is as light as a distant lamp, but it hides the warmth of the whole family. "It's my turn to lie to her, or what do you want your son to do?" I was shocked at once. In the dark, the familiar big boy suddenly grew up a lot and showed me a completely strange outline. One day not long after, I went to my friend's mother's office to do business. It was noon, so we naturally had lunch together. Unexpectedly, for the first course, she ordered fish head in casserole. My friend's words startled me, just like a bird in the forest. I couldn't help telling her what my friend said that day. "Really?" My friend's mother smiled, and there was a dimple in her mouth: "I really like eating fish heads, all the time." My son made a mistake. ""Then why didn't you tell him? " I asked. She quickly waved her hand: "Don't. When a child grows up, it's like being separated from his parents and family. Their love is in their hearts, like water in a glass, full and visible, but unable to flow out and feel. "Her voice trailed off." If he didn't compete with me for fish heads every day, how would I know that he has grown so big and learned to be considerate and love his mother? "Casserole served, in the overflowing fragrance, I saw her eyes shining with stars. She smiled and put a fish head in my bowl and greeted me: "Try it, a fish head has seven flavors. "

Embrace the world with a quiet heart. The heart is the master of human beings and has great power.

So pay attention to your intentions anytime and anywhere. We meet many people every day,

In frequent contact,

It is inevitable that there will be friction or conflict with others.

Or, because external events have affected your mood,

This is one of the common puzzles of modern people. If you want to keep a calm heart,

It is a deep knowledge, which is not easy to do. When we climb mountains or stand by the sea,

The endless scenery, let us open our hearts,

At this point, the world is full of troubles,

Will disappear without a trace. So some people say:

The world is as big as the heart. Our hearts,

If it can be as open as Yuan Ye and Haitian,

You can hold unlimited things,

You can also enjoy the freedom of life "If the heart is not cheerful, it is bitter. If the heart is open-minded, it can turn bitterness into joy. 」

Zen emphasizes the word "normal heart" in particular. The so-called normal mind refers to

We are very aware of right and wrong, good and bad, beautiful and ugly in the environment.

All the phenomena are clear at a glance, but they are not affected at all.

Even in that environment, I won't dance with the outside world.

Will not be affected by various situations in the environment. After a person has a certain concentration, it is not easy to be shaken by external conditions.

Can maintain physical and mental stability, can see their own situation clearly,

For those who can and cannot do it;

What to do and what not to do are also very clear.

This is wisdom. If you want to keep your mind clear and stable, don't go with the flow.

"The heart goes with the environment" is to lose one's master.

Always influenced by environmental dynamics,

That is, when something happens,

Don't be moved by the present environment at once. The simplest way is,

Observe the feeling of inhaling through the nostrils,

Or observe your inner feelings,

As long as you pay attention to your body's feelings,

The mood will settle down. In fact, all worries are not necessarily bad.

In fact, it is the basis of a clear head.

Because, for people with a good foundation, when they are in trouble,

Think it's a kind of trouble,

I hope I can turn it into a quiet and clear heart.

At this time, worry is a kind of help. So,

If you know how to deal with problems with wisdom and compassion,

My heart will not be tied often, but I can be clear and comfortable.

So no matter what situation you are in,

Can maintain a calm, stable, independent and comfortable state of mind.

Close your eyes and think about it,

Did you screw up a lot of things because of impetuosity?

Are you often influenced by environment and people?

Do you often get angry about small things and never let yourself go?

"There is no compassion if you can't put others down in your heart;

There is no wisdom if you can't put yourself down in your heart. "The respondent added trees on the cliff at 20 10-02-05 15:03.

Did you jump off the cliff in order to get rid of that cold and hunger? Is it to avoid the shame of being captured, after running out of ammunition and food, you threw yourself into this cliff without hesitation?

You really jumped down that day, like an eagle swooping down to hunt, like a meteor piercing the silent night. However, you didn't die, a steep cliff seam saved you, and a handful of barren soil raised you. Rooting, sprouting and growing leaves-since then, you have settled down here, day and night, year after year, and finally survived tenaciously and grew into clusters of breathtaking scenery. This is a wild jujube tree that has been swaying in my memory for 30 years, on the cliff of that big mountain in my hometown.

It is not tall enough, and its leaves are sparse and it blooms late. Clouds haunt it, fog fascinates it, rain attracts it, wind destroys it, frost oppresses snow, and lightning thunders. However, Zizyphus jujuba was not conquered. It does not bow, does not yield, in countless counterattacks and howls, forging an iron-like clank of iron, condensing a strong sense of car-scrapping.

Time and time again, it fights and shouts in the wind and rain; Once, it tore the cloud to pieces; It forced the frost and snow to escape with majesty and obedience; It drives away thunder and lightning with fortitude and avoids others-

It knows that it can't become a pillar and a towering tree, but it still grows hard; It knows it can't hide its neighbors, but it still strives to prosper. Unlike peach trees in front of the mountain and pear trees behind the mountain, they are pampered and easy to coax, and their good temper will give you some color to see. Unlike poplars and willows eager for excitement. They occupied a good place with water, fat and soil, so they got carried away and just showed off. Zizyphus jujuba stands silently, not humble, not thin, not afraid of loneliness. Shake hands with spring and have a cordial conversation with the sun and the moon. The sky and the earth are full of colors. Never need anyone's special care and care, rely entirely on their own strength, grow into the life on that cliff, let people appreciate that touching style. It is sincere and not jealous, it is simple and not greedy; Raise your hand to greet passers-by and bow your head to congratulate and bless the winner.

That autumn, unconsciously, it actually produced a small jujube. There is only one, and it is almost invisible.

That jujube is a gift from the sun, moon and stars in the Spring and Autumn Period, and it is a concentrated Danxia neon cloud. Bright red, like agate, like pearls, like a burning flame, like the soul on the cliff of Wan Ren. The moment I saw its fruit, I suddenly had a strange idea: Zizyphus jujuba, maybe it is the heart of that Zizyphus jujuba tree that has worked hard for decades! With a heart, it will have a dream and embrace the world more warmly! Half a love letter

Text/fierce fire

There is a river,

I tried to get through,

On the contrary, it is getting deeper and deeper;

There is a net,

I tried to pass,

But I can't get rid of the complicated unrequited love complex.

I like you deeply,

But I don't know how to tell you. ......

snow

Text/fierce fire

Fair skin,

Shy,

Falling quietly.

I want to touch you,

Although you are indifferent;

I want to hug you,

But passed by.

I once had a crush on your smell,

I really want to feel your temperature,

I wonder if you love me or not?

sunflower

Text/fierce fire

The sun rises gradually,

There is countless warmth.

Sunflowers twist their soft bodies,

It opened shyly against the sun.

The sun shines on the sunflower,

The warm feeling is so beautiful.

The sun is in the sky,

Sunflowers follow their eyes.

It is late at night,

Waiting is also beautiful.

Swllowtail Butterfly

Text/fierce fire

I am a butterfly,

Pursue alternative love.

Swallows are flying,

I chased it desperately,

Whether she hurt me or not, I really can't bear to see you hit so hard. I don't want to see you sad. I turned into a fire just to warm your cold heart, but it's all my fault. I don't like it. The deeper I hurt, the more painful it is. I hurt you. The late autumn of frost/fire gradually made me feel chilling until I met you. In that lonely day, only you accompanied me. Because it used to be loved one.