In study, work, and life, everyone often comes into contact with composition. Composition is a narrative method in which people express the relevant knowledge, experience, and thoughts stored in their memory in written form. There are many things to note when writing an essay. Are you sure you know how to write it? The following are essays on the smell of soil that I have collected for everyone. They are for reference only. You are welcome to read them. The Taste in the Soil Composition 1
Looking up at the towering mountains, why do you only care about the vast earth? Listening to the flowing water on the small bridge, why do you only care about Zhou Lang Chibi? Farsightedness sparks a prairie fire, for whom are you so full of enthusiasm? You are my hometown, with unchanging love, I am looking for your flavor - the strong fragrance of books. Searching and searching, following your heroism, the "soil" that has been deposited for thousands of years is filled with your elegance; caressing your tenderness, the land that stretches from ancient to modern times is filled with your lingering.
Who is singing in the drum basin? A Taoist priest appeared in front of me. When the ancient moral seeds were planted in my heart, a kind of virtue began to scatter in my heart. I stared at him and saw the splendor of "Dawn Dreams and Confused Butterflies". When I wanted to touch you, I saw everything in the world. This soil is tasteless, but fragrant. It carries the "tolerant world" that growth should have. Flicking at the shallow layer, I felt a surge of heat. It was an era when the wheel of history was turned by the tip of a pen. You dared to fight powerful enemies with just one pen. The meteor disappeared in an instant, but you became the brightest one in the sky. Your eyes tell the story of "looking at thousands of people with cold eyebrows, bowing your head and willing to be a bully". The earthy flavor you created is deep, showing the desolation of the world, telling the vicissitudes of modern China, and healing the scars on the mother's body. In modern times, soil is bitter and astringent. When everyone is obsessed with material desires, you stick to your own sky. What kind of persistence is it to be able to work without hesitation for the sake of literature? Your literature may not be rich, but you only want to "face the sea, with spring flowers blooming", and let us smell the taste of spring, which is a taste of happiness; maybe your life is used to worship, with Your unique way to wake up the fast-moving China. In order to find the poetry in the ordinary, I came to the soil of poetry again... "Look up to the sky and laugh out loud. How can I be a Penghao person?" Li Bai's earthy flavor is so heroic. "He has the spirit of fighting against the mountains", and Xiang Yu's earthy style is even more tragic and tragic for a hero at his end. "The night gave me black eyes, but I used them to look for light." Gu Cheng's soil is awe-inspiring. Looking down at the land of China, each piece of soil has its own characteristics, but there is no loss of similarities. It is as light as water, making people feel cool; it is as thick as strong wine, making people intoxicated. As descendants of China, we are always like bathing in the spring breeze, growing and fertile soil.
Heaven and earth are the destination of all things; time is the passerby of hundreds of generations. The "soil" where five thousand years of civilization has been deposited carries the essence of thousands of years. It can be seen everywhere for us to read and accompany us to grow, allowing us to taste carefully and grow silently in the "soil". This rich taste is profound if you put it in your mouth, and it will never be erased if it melts in your heart. The Taste in the Soil Composition 2
If the mountain is not high, then there will be immortals and it will be famous; if the water is not deep, there will be dragons and it will be spiritual; if the soil is not thick, if there is sense, then it will work.
Not all inspiration comes from learning, and not all inspiration comes from life. Sometimes, maybe a moment of inspiration is hidden in the dark soil, waiting for you to dig into it. We are always chasing in the busy life, looking for the world that belongs to us; we always miss it in the non-stop, miss the hard-won opportunities; we always go on strangers without knowing it, and lose that precious thing. Touch the heart. In an instant, we will lose our direction and become confused. At this time, it is better to squat down and think quietly. Maybe there is an unknown treasure buried in the inch of soil in front of us. + After a night of rain, there is a faint smell of vanilla, which is the smell of new soil. It may be small grains of gravel, but after constant rolling and dancing, it eventually turns into inches of dark soil. Although the soil is not white, it has an elegant taste; although the soil is not beautiful, it has a rustic flavor. Perhaps the soil is not as radiant as the rising sun, and perhaps the new soil is not as bright and bright as the round moon, but it also has its inspiration and its light. As pure and kind as a newborn baby, and as gentle as the "ruthless" falling red. Inspiration does not mean creation, and inspiration does not mean brilliance. The soil of inspiration, even if it is dark, has its unique fragrance. Step by step, we step on the chest of the earth; inch by inch, the fragrance is deep-rooted, it is the limbs of the earth, and the heart of the earth. Its unique fragrance is its obscurity and lack of complaints; its unique inspiration is its step-by-step, step-by-step time.
To be casual is not to follow, but to let nature take its course, not to be attached to the past, not to complain about the present, and not to force the future; to be casual is not to be casual, but to seize opportunities, not be pessimistic about past failures, and not be pessimistic about past failures. Don’t panic about the current predicament. You can do what is difficult, you can endure what is difficult, do not cling to the future, nor cling to the past, but stay in the present and grasp the present. The life of clay is like this, just like a clock. Its perfection lies not in how fast it goes, but in how accurately it goes. Its obscurity and down-to-earthness touch the human body; its never giving up and taking one step at a time touch the human soul. "Falling red is not a heartless thing, it turns into spring mud to protect flowers."
On the soil of inspiration, I would like to sprinkle a bottle of sake to pay tribute to your "ruthless" life without regrets.