Excerpts from third-grade philosophical prose: who stayed in whose time, who walked through whose youth, left a smile, who disappeared from whose rainy season, and drowned tears. Who stays in whose time, warms the thoughts. -inscription
In the afternoon, there are several clouds floating in the blue sky, several Daishan mountains in the distance come into view, and there are several floating lights on the rippling river. In this quiet time, stroll through the park path, watch the flowers bloom and fall, watch the clouds roll and relax, keep a relaxed and happy mood in the depths of the years, and keep an indifferent attitude in the busy and prosperous like water. Let the cold air, a ray of sunshine sprinkled on the body, bathed in the warm sun belonging to one person in winter, and the chill vanished. In the shallow time, holding a book, in the warm sunshine, recalling the warm past and savoring the quiet years.
Open the notebook, the blue cover can be seen at a glance: there is a pot of wild chrysanthemum on the pale desktop, growing tenaciously in front of the sunny window. There is a book on the table next to it. There is a flower on the book. Next to the flowers are headphones. This room is full of fragrance and beating notes, and the beautiful light blue picture is really beautiful and harmonious.
I have always liked Su Shi's "A piece of snow in the East Column makes life clearer", but I prefer Qingqing to Qingming, because it is not only the secret recipe of Qingming, but also the treasure of lost time and the prospect of a better life.
For me who is taken out of context, "Qingqing Qingyun" is also an elegant word! In the warm time, I hope we all have a "sunny" heart.
Open the floodgate of memory and the past will pour out.
In the cold winter, enjoying snow is a poetic thing. On the vast land, in the quiet night, the moon is thousands of miles away, and the shadows are heavy. Suddenly a cold wind came, and the catkins were illuminated by snow and the moon. Imagine, all this is really refreshing.
But I will never forget it. It was also in the cold winter, and it was a freezing snowy night. A big hand is holding a small hand, and a small person is carrying it with his back bent. In the bright moonlight, snowflakes hang all over the branches and fall on the face and shoulders. Granddaughter sighed, brushed the snowflake from grandma's head with her hand, and hugged her neck with her little hand. Their shadows are horizontal. It was a cold winter. The wind was cold and snowy, but there was no chill. Excuse me, how can this situation not make people feel warm? It was really touching. At that time, I asked for nothing.
Now, it's winter again, and it's still chilly, but grandma has rarely seen her granddaughter here. It's dark and windy in the month, so lonely and miserable! The scene of walking in the snow that night was like a dream, but what is the occasion today? At this moment, I think.
Someone told me that as long as there are memories and joy in my heart, happiness will still stir.
Pushing open the window of childhood, shells appeared in front of my eyes.
I remember in my hometown, it was a world of ice and snow in winter. We children like to step on rows of footprints in the snow, write our names in the snow and make snowmen in the snow. Say that finish, my hands are cold, but I still giggle. In that white land, a child, a Leng Xue, and a few high-pitched words are vivid.
I still remember that every winter, my friends and adults warm themselves by the fire and squat by it, but they don't change their original intentions. They picked up a snowball and hit someone. Finally, the yard went crazy, and we ran recklessly. In the snow, revel.
But I won't forget the day that year, I bullied that little girl named Wang, and she cried (because it was cool); One day that year, I insulted that woman named Jia; One day that year, I fell out with my sister Huang (in fact, I seldom call her sister); One day that year, I cried at the elder sister named Yao (alas); One day that year, I was angry with my eldest brother Huang (Whelan); One day that year, I met another watery girl named Wang. One day that year, I met a sister named Xie.
In the shallow time, relive the warmth and laughter again and again, and pick up that happiness.
In this fleeting time, take a break from busyness, listen to the sounds of nature and realize life.
In the quiet years, there is a touch of warm sunshine in my heart, which will be a clean place. I will open that notebook and record that a cold wind has struck, and the affection of my family and the friendship of my friends have warmed me.
Then, as safe as a song; Then, spring blossoms; that Wholehearted love;
Then, dye a season of fragrance to warm my mind.
Excerpt from the philosophical prose about grade three: Have you ever thought that one day, when you wait for time to draw me a white eyebrow, you will be old?
On that day, my skin began to relax, my eyes began to be confused, ugly age spots began to appear on my body, and my hair began to turn white when I was young.
I think at that time, I was not young, my hair began to fall off, and I had a son and a grandson. There is also a small house, which would be better in Jiangnan.
at that time ...
I will learn the lyre, tell my unfinished complex and listen to my voice between heaven and earth. Liu Changqing in the Tang Dynasty said, "The seven winds are cold, and the cold wind is loose. Singing those old songs that no one cares about. " Although a little arrogant, the loneliness of Guqin is the same throughout the ages. Silence is the state of the piano, and silence is a heart after experiencing prosperity. I have a seven-stringed guqin when I am old. Learn a few ancient songs and time will calm down. If you play the guqin in the deep forest, there is a pool beside you, and lotus flowers are planted all over the world, which is already delicious. It is enough to know the taste of this situation when you are old.
I'm going to see the boy I loved. It has nothing to do with romance. White clothes have stained the years.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you will silently remember that when you were young, you fell in love with a boy for a long time.
then
Why must there be a later, as long as I remember that he once smiled at me; Remember that he used jasmine scented washing powder; I remember he had long white hands. He was so excellent. He lit up my life like a lamp. The stage lighting in the school auditorium was the most beautiful aperture for him. I remember I became so good because I loved him. That's enough.
I'm just going to see if his most handsome side face is starting to loosen.
When you are young, some people will make you hate and want to die with him. They are as tragic as a general who died in battle. Look at him, his silver teeth are broken. The domineering spirit of total annihilation was used to hate that person wholeheartedly. The effort to "bring peace and stability to the country" is to defeat them and step on them. I don't know why I hate it, but I hate it. Maybe it's just because of an injury, ignoring whether it's worth it.
Go and see them. Those who once hated them laugh at them for getting old too fast and forgetting that they have a halter. Then I thought they must die faster than me. Then I suddenly found that the things I hated at the beginning were too boring.
If you can't roam the world, take a closer look at the place where you were born and raised. See where you first appeared in this world, and remember here. If I am going to die, remember to tell Chang Wang that I will be here in my next life before drinking Meng Po Tang. I don't want to be rich, but I want to taste life.
Then, take my wife's hand and sum up my life a little. Say, fortunately, I survived, no matter what posture. Red light dyed half the sky above our heads, and my gray hair was pinned with exquisite hairpins. Suddenly I feel that this life has been so long and beautiful.
Then, every day after I get old, my wife says that the old man next door is a handsome guy I have secretly loved for decades. Looking at his wife's angry appearance, I knew that my grandson's urine would have another bubble at the door, and the old man next door would lose the chess game that day. In such a time, there is always no shortage of fun.
Then, I will thank the whole life with this white hair and eyebrows painted by time.
Finally, I will use my remaining love to love my bouncing children. Let them know how beautiful the world they grew up in is. Although materialism; Although glitz breeds loneliness; Although they seem so helpless in the bustling light and shadow; Even if they just hit their heads for a little security.
However, life is beautiful!
Therefore, I will tell my children to learn to like it. Don't blindly criticize the world you live in. Your criticism and your hostile attitude towards life, when you participate in it, will scare others into not liking it. Because, if you don't learn to like it, in most annoying situations, a small number of likes are different and lonely. Accustomed to criticism, don't like criticism, why live in this world? It's ridiculous not to live for liking, but to persist for disgust.
I think this will be me getting old, with Chinese hair, white eyebrows, ugly age spots, and a sincere love for myself and life.
No matter how much I hate the world at this time, how miserable I am, how I struggle in this world, I can never see the end of my pain, whether the world is good to me or not, and in what form I hate this world.
When time catches my eyebrows, I will whisper how beautiful the world is. Because at that time, from my hair to my white hair, I have been trying so hard to live truly.
Excerpt from philosophical prose about Grade Three: Rainy days are the time to cry. It's cloudy and looks like rain. Dark clouds covered the sun. Blinded my eyes and forgot the time. I don't know when, suddenly there was a wonderful tick outside the window. Those crystal raindrops, like beautiful notes, ripple in my heart. I began to melt into the melody in the rain.
Looking at the gloomy and gloomy day, it seems that my mood appears, curled up in the cold corner and silently recalled. My eyes are immersed in the mist, and I can't tell whether it is rain or tears. Looking at the raindrops on the eaves, I know that rainy days are the time to cry. Tired of the so-called good mood, but also see through the so-called false smile. Living with a mask has long been tiring, so it is better to cry on rainy days. No one will care, whether it is rain or tears on the wet face. No one will hear you. In the dripping rain, is it crying or sadness?
Accumulated too much sadness, condensed into bitter tears, silently slipped from the cheeks. Look at how many raindrops there are in this rainy season. My tears fused together. The smell of sadness is everywhere, so it is not beautiful when it rains. When I stood up slowly and looked at everything wet in front of me and the crying world, I knew with confidence that the rain would clear up after crying.
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