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How to use warmth and softness in writing?
1. How to write the soft power of composition?

In this world, things that become more and more frequent are: provocative, sharp, mean … and those soft and beautiful things gradually disappear. However, even so, there will still be many beautiful and quiet things in our life.

Beautiful flowers can be seen everywhere. They are petite and colorful, and the flowers are noble and colorful against the green leaves. Looking at the lovely and soft collocation with them, I suddenly feel that every corner of my heart is full of sunshine and warmth, as if all the cold things melt in an instant, leaving only sunshine and laughter.

Clear water is running, and fish are swimming around in crystal clear water. The rushing water splashed beautiful water on the stones on the water. The running water will be very soft, very swift, and when it is depressed, it seems to flow into the heart and wash away all the unhappiness; Listening to the sound of "flowers" makes people feel comfortable.

Spring has come, everything has revived, and spring has quietly come to the world. The warm spring breeze blows through streams and willows ... everywhere it goes, it is full of the breath of spring. The soft spring breeze gently brushed the face, leaving no trace, but it can make people feel extremely warm and gratified.

As night falls, the moon rises, and the bright moonlight spreads all over the earth, like laying a silver carpet on the earth. Moonlight is usually synonymous with loneliness, loneliness and desolation. But I think the moonlight is very gentle. Look at the silver moonlight and the bright moonlight. That kind of light shines directly on the soul and gives people comfort.

The power of softness is enormous. It can make people forget all unhappy things and spend every day happily.

2. How to write a warm composition? Warmth is always around us, and success may be the blessing of family members; "Come on" when parents fail; Teacher's praise when getting good grades; On my birthday, my parents' "Happy Birthday" was my friend's comfort when I was sad. These can be said to be trivial things, but they can give us endless warmth, like the warm sunshine in winter; Open an umbrella when it rains; A cup of coke in summer. In short, warmth is with us.

My memory is like a colorful treasure chest, recording my joys and sorrows, like seashells and pearls on the sea floor. I have forgotten many things, but I still remember one thing.

It was a night of pouring rain. My sleeping mother was awakened by my crying. I said to her feebly, "Mom, my head hurts a little and my limbs are weak." My mother touched my forehead and was frightened: "It's so hot, it must be a cold and a fever." Without saying anything, my mother put on her clothes, picked up her raincoat and went straight to the hospital behind my back. Along the way, my mother was panting, sweating and out of breath. I whispered, "Mom, please put me down. I can go by myself. " But mother said, "Nothing, your illness is very important. As long as you get better, it is your mother's greatest happiness. " After listening to my mother's meticulous words, I am extremely warm at this time.

After a half-hour trek, we arrived at the hospital. The doctor gave me an injection to take medicine, and I feel much better. At this time, my mother put hers on me again, fearing that my illness would get worse. "Mom, I'm not cold. Put it on yourself, or you will catch cold again. " But my mother still said the same thing: "Only when your illness is cured is my mother's greatest happiness." Mother carried me on her back again and went home step by step. Gradually, under the meticulous care of my mother, my illness recovered and I became a lively child again. I feel very warm beside my mother.

Warmth, like foam tea in winter, warms our hearts; Warmth is like the caress in front of the bed when mother is sick; Warm, just like when it rains, dad waits in the wind and rain. It can bring us many unexpected gains, warm in my heart!

3. Composition: How to Write Warmth From the moment I was born, I thrived in my father's warmth. I didn't know until I grew up that my father's warmth was everywhere.

At home: Father suffers from severe henpecked husband. Not only is the salary controlled, but I can't even make up my mind what to wear on a certain day. Sometimes, I will say to my father angrily, "Dad, are you still a man?" How can you let a woman manipulate you? "Dad always smiles foolishly when he hears this. However, my parents' marital relationship is always so good, and neighbors say that when my parents came together, it was really a silk thread that fell into the eye of a needle-that's right. Oh! I suddenly realized that my father's warmth was obedience and forbearance. As the saying goes: endure a calm moment and take a step back. Tall! Dad is so tall!

At work: Dad is meticulous in his work. Dad has a strong desire to work and is an out-and-out workaholic. I remember one time I went to the company to find my father, pushed open the door, and saw that the garbage bin was full of white paper balls. The father sitting there frowned and kept turning the 2B pencil in his hand. His eyes seem to be looking for something in the painting that has been revised thousands of times. I didn't want to disturb my father, so I boiled a pot of water and left. When I opened the door again, I found that the pot of boiling water was "angry" with smoke, but my father, surrounded by smoke, was unaware of it and was still working hard. I sigh: Dad's warmth is creation and desperate dedication.

Play with me: Sometimes Dad is really the king of children. Dad and I are really like a pair of good friends. We play hide-and-seek together, count the stars in the sky together, make a wish under the stars together, rain together, together … Dad always makes me laugh with humorous words and sentences. In short, the time spent with my father really taught me what happiness is and what is carefree. Now I am no longer depressed by the tense exam. Because I firmly believe that I am a happy boy. Dad's warmth is happiness and a good medicine to get rid of pain.

It is these warmth that have gone through my childhood, enriched my childhood, enriched my childhood and changed my childhood. I thank them for their love and kindness.

I also want to thank my father, who made me understand too many life revelations, who made me understand the value of happiness, who made me master the principle of doing things and who made me stop panicking.

In fact, this so-called warmth is love. My father's love makes me look at life from another angle and gives me new experiences and inspirations. I like the warm feeling of the quilt, and I like my father's love and warmth more.

4. How to write a warm composition In late autumn, the dew is cold and the wind is rustling. The north wind shook the old tree unscrupulously and barked at the bare treetops. The yellow leaves on the ground were rolled up by the wind and circled in the air, just falling and being rolled up again. ...

People's faces are full of chill.

My mother and I are walking in a quiet street. It's very cold. Even wearing a thick sweater, the north wind still comes in from the small hole in the sweater, which makes people almost breathless. Looking at a fallen leaf swept by the wind, I can't help thinking: another tough winter!

At this time, a thin figure appeared in the distance, sitting alone on the ground.

Against the cold wind, we walked quickly forward, and our backs gradually became clear. ...

That's a beggar. She is about 30 years old, but her brow is full of vicissitudes. She only wore thin clothes and trembled slightly in the cold wind.

Another gust of wind blew, and she held the child tighter. That's probably her son, wrapped in two quilts, snuggling in his mother's arms. Perhaps, it was his mother who snuggled up to him. She clung to the child. She wanted to give half her temperature to the child, but forgot that she was still sitting on the freezing ground, still shivering. ...

At this time, another north wind roared past us with fallen leaves, and the grass turned pale and the wood fell off, which was extremely biting and fierce.

She shuddered. However, I saw her wrap the child in the quilt again. Then, without any hesitation, she took off one of her coats and gently covered the child.

Her body is like leaves in late autumn, shaking badly, but the warmth between her eyebrows and eyes can drive away the cold. She looked at the sleeping face of the child, and a warm smile appeared on her face. The fundus is infinite love and infinite warmth. ...

She held the child tightly, stood up from the ground and walked away step by step ... Only the child in her arms was still asleep, as if she didn't know the predicament he was facing, or he knew that he would never be cold, because no matter how strong the wind was, his mother could shelter him, leaving him only warmth.

The cold wind blew, and suddenly a dress fell on me, making me feel warm. Looking back, I only saw my mother's face warm. ...

5. How to write a composition with the theme of "warmth"? Hehe, this kind of composition is written the most times, just like taking love as the theme. I can't say exactly how to write it. I'll give you a model essay for your reference.

; In this winter, warm sunshine shines through the window. The sunshine illuminates my hand that keeps writing, but it melts into my young mind. In an instant, I seem to have returned to that warm childhood world.

In this warm childhood world, I always like to go with the crops in the field and the fish in the canal. My favorite thing is to communicate with my father who likes barefoot. In winter, the girl walked with heavy steps. The north wind just blew, but my little feet were red with cold, so I had to find a pile of straw to keep warm. Suddenly, a brand-new pair of sports shoes came out from behind. "Wow, it's beautiful!" I said in surprise. Dad quickly told me to put my feet out and help me put on my shoes. Look at dad's hand with his shoelaces tied. They are all red, but they hurt when touched. I think dad's hand must have been mercilessly scratched by a frozen girl.

Just as I was admiring my new shoes, my bare feet went to the fields again. It seems that my father went on with his work with a hoe. Walking barefoot in tandem through the mud, I ran to my father in warm shoes. With a hoe in his hand, he smiled and said to me, "Don't walk around, or you will get your shoes dirty!" " "How can I feel the biting cold wind when I am happy? It's just that when I saw my father's bare feet, the hard skin cracked, and in the dark cracks, it must have been stuffed into the soil. Suddenly I shivered and asked my father, "Does your foot hurt? "? Look, it looks like a scar! "But my father only smiled at me.

Walking back to the straw pile, I looked back at my father's barefoot and then at the new shoes. There is always endless warmth in my heart. It turned out that the warmth was given by my father. Behind the warmth is my father's barefoot and hard sweat. Isn't this warmth comparable to the wealth of money? Who says wealth must be money, power or wisdom? It's my dad who likes barefoot, right? Over the years, he gave me surprises, warmth, innocence and kindness, strong qualities, and ...

Behind the warmth is my father, the wealth my grandfather gave me, and the wealth I will always be attached to.

By the window, the warm sunshine still wraps me all the time. I thought: Dad, did you feel the warmth of the soft sunshine there?

6. Writing on the topic of softness misses the softness of the cue ball.

Mother's smell is so warm that I am still warm in the cold winter of December; Mother's taste is so soft that I suck great maternal love all the time; Mother's taste is so firm that I can always identify the road ahead and grow up without fear. I remembered the smell of my mother. ...

I remember when I was 0/2 years old, my mother was very diligent in doing all the housework and taking care of me, but she couldn't knit a sweater. My mother's greatest wish is to knit me a beautiful sweater by herself to resist the biting cold wind. Finally one day, she invited an aunt to teach her to knit a sweater.

When my mother knitted a sweater for the first time, she looked clumsy and sometimes cut her finger, but under the urging of maternal love, she continued to wave her needle disapprovingly. I have worked hard to knit a complete sweater, but I can swing from side to side and don't know how to wear it. Father sneered: "You can be an excellent fashion designer!" " "Mother bowed her head sadly. That night, in my hazy sleep, my mother was dancing her knitting needles and watching meticulously. I also clearly saw the bean-sized sweat on my mother's forehead, which seemed to be dripping with infinite maternal love. My hazy eyes are becoming more blurred at the moment, my good mother!

When I got up early the next morning, my mother couldn't wait to put on a new sweater that she knitted overnight. Standing in front of the mirror, the new sweater is so fit and comfortable. My mother customized this sweater for me with a bottomless maternal love. I put it on, and a strong and fresh fragrance came to my nose. "Are you wearing perfume?" "no!" Mother looked puzzled. Oh! I see, this is the smell of mother, full of maternal love! In front of the mirror, the new me seems to be immersed in the ocean of maternal love and swimming in it.

It is also such a cold winter. I wore this sweater last year, and a strong fragrance came again, which warmed my whole body without consent. I remembered the smell of my mother, which was the smell of love. ...

7. The beauty of softness in the composition with softness as the topic. The morning in early summer in June is neither too hot nor too cold, which makes people feel very comfortable.

When I left home and came to this warm and gentle nature, my depressed mood was gradually relieved. Walking, I came to the water. The water is as calm as a mirror, the wind is blowing slowly, and some microwaves are generated on the water.

There are flowers and grass by the river, releasing a faint fragrance for this mild environment. It is very pleasant to recite ancient poems in a low voice while walking.

Suddenly, a small flower bloomed on the water, and a clod fell into the water and became many grains of soil. A little boy looked aside, drew back his hand and said to his father doubtfully, "Dad, the water is soft. The clod I threw fell into the water. Why does the water only spread slightly around, but the clods are cracked? " His father raised his head slightly, put his hand to his ear and meditated quietly, but didn't get an appropriate answer. He simply said, "son, let dad think about it and I'll tell you when I get home."

Father and son have gone a long way, but I began to think about what they were talking about and tell the boy how something as weak as water can be harder than sand. At this point, the ripples in the water have disappeared, and I suddenly had an idea: is this what Mr. Lao Tzu has always wanted to express? Thought of here, I gradually have the answer in my mind.

Although water is weak, it is elastic, and there is much more water than soil. Although the clods are hard, they are extremely loose. Naturally, they were chopped into several small pieces during the water impact. Looking back on my life, I once went back to my hometown and looked at the big stone in front of my house. Suddenly, I found that this stone had one more hole than many years ago.

Just wondering what's going on, grandma came over, so I took the opportunity to ask her. Grandma told me that this stone is facing the eaves. It has always rained in recent years, and there are always drops of water. After a long time, this hole has been dripped out.

I didn't quite understand what grandma meant at that time. Today, I understand that this is precisely the performance of softhearted. "It is not the hammer that makes pebbles perfect, but the singing and dancing of water."

This is a famous Indian writer Tagore's famous saying. Soft beauty can be seen everywhere around us. Although common, it is always greater than hardness. Let us have a pair of eyes to discover beauty and a pair of eyes to discover femininity.

8. How to write a "warm" composition, and how many warm stories are staged in it; How many warm stories have gone away with the long-flowing water. On this energetic day, how many people are silently warming you?

In my eyes, everything my parents gave me can't be compensated in this life. In particular, their care, love and attention cannot be bought with money. Growing up in warmth, I deeply realized this.

On the threshold of my memory, I will never forget: one day in the summer vacation, when my mother and I were cleaning the room, because of my carelessness, we didn't grasp the handle of the chair, so that we fell from the high cabinet and hit our chin on the marble at the corner of the table. Suddenly blood spilled out and dyed the collar of my dress red. My mother turned white when she heard me running from the next room. But she immediately realized something, took out a lot of cotton from the medicine box, blocked my wound and sent me to the hospital at once. At this time, my father is having a meeting in Ningbo. When he learned the news, he drove to the hospital quickly. Because my father is not around, my mother's burden is particularly heavy. I know she is actually more nervous and heartbroken than I am.

At that time, I thought it would be okay to apply some medicine and wrap it up. Who knows, the doctor said that the wound must be stitched up with a needle. Because the incision is too big and there is much bleeding, it will have a bad effect. It's horrible to think about sewing with a needle, let alone experience it personally. Looking at the needle that the nurse brought to sew the wound, my heart beat faster and the air seemed to freeze at this moment. When the doctor raised the needle and began to sew up my injured chin, my mother's warm hand gripped me tightly. At this time, a feeling of stability and calmness came to my mind, and my heart slowly relaxed. I know that my mother's warm big hand holds my hand tightly here, and my father's comforting words are closely connected with me there. I am warm and happy. I didn't cry at that time, because I felt the warmth from my parents at this dangerous moment far from the edge of life and death.

By the time my father arrived at the hospital, my wound had been stitched up and put on gauze. Seeing my father, I threw myself into his arms. Maybe now I realize the fear atmosphere in the infirmary. Maybe I have never experienced such a thing, and I am very wronged. In my father's arms, I shed tears that I have endured for a long time. My father looked at me with a smile, and his rough but warm hand brushed my cheek: "Silly child, don't cry. It's all over, isn't it? " Yes, everything has passed, everything will pass, but for everything my parents gave, I hope it will not pass and be preserved forever.

After that, my father painted me with liquid medicine and changed gauze every day. It's hot in summer, and my father is afraid that my wound is inflamed. He cleans my wound every day and never delays a little time. Due to the careful care of my father, when the stitches were removed, the doctor said that the wound had healed and grew well.

Warm, do not need to use beautiful words to describe, do not need to use exquisite brush to carve, but still bright and dazzling. A classmate's progress, a teacher's sincere greetings and a friend's warm help all make you feel warm. And do you still remember the sincere warmth of too many parents? Cherish all the warmth, and the warmth of your parents will accompany you to overcome difficulties and obstacles. In the face of danger and competition, they must be your spiritual pillar!

Just write something that moves you. .

9. How to write a composition on the topic of warmth 1: Warmth is particularly cold this winter. My hand was frostbitten and swollen like a "mountain" and became a "big red envelope". It's so uncomfortable! I remember one night, I sat in front of the TV and watched TV. Suddenly, I felt my hands itch. I quickly grabbed it, grabbed it, grabbed it, grabbed it, grabbed it, grabbed it.

Later, I had no choice but to go downstairs and wipe the ointment. I felt a little cold when I first put it on, and I began to feel refreshed and my hands stopped itching. However, before long, my hands began to itch again, which made me feel at a loss.

Also, when eating, my hands often itch, and my itchy hands will turn. Take a bite, turn around, take a bite, turn around ... I just know that frostbite is not only sad, but also affects eating.

Seeing my fingers itch like this, my family is very worried and secretly worried about me. Dad saw it and immediately came to my side, holding one of my small hands with his two big hands, pressing it over and over again, rubbing it over and over again.

With my father's concern, my hands suddenly stopped itching and I began to eat quietly. After dinner, my father rubbed ointment on me again.

I'm telling you, my father also gave birth! She was born worse than me. But for me, he rubbed less for himself and more for me.

Every time, he gently rubbed ointment on my hand. I looked at my hand and smiled with satisfaction. When I felt cold, my mother quickly brought a hot water bottle, filled it with warm water, sealed it, and then carefully put it in my hand to keep me warm.

Under their careful care, my "mountain hand" became a "flat carpet" and the "big red envelope" became white and tender. "Look, better, better!" Whenever I find that my hands are getting better, I will happily show my fingers to my parents.

This is warmth, which warms my hands and my heart. Composition 2: Warmth Everyone has a heart full of love, so we all have a warmth in our hearts.

Where there is love, there is warmth. One night, the bright moon hung in the sky, and the river was reflected in colorful pictures by lights. A breeze blew and rippled.

I walked alone along the river and enjoyed the scenery. I picked up the key and shook it. I accidentally dropped my hand and fell under the fence. I ran to the fence and grabbed the key, but it was too late. The key fell under the fence. I looked down and saw all the weeds and dirt below. Where can I find this? I stood beside the fence, at a loss, as anxious as ants on hot bricks.

At this time, an old man saw me in such a hurry and asked me kindly, "Do you have any difficulties, little friend?" "I ... I lost my key." I said with tears.

"Son, don't be sad. I will go down and help you find it. " Grandpa comforted me.

I quickly wrote down the location here and went down with grandpa. It's so dark, so big and so many weeds below. How can I find the key? But without the key, I can't go home and I will be scolded by my parents.

At this time, my heart is being pulled. Grandpa and I are pulling around with a stick.

After searching for a long time, the key is still missing. Just when I was about to despair, my grandfather suddenly shouted excitedly, "found it!" Found it! " I heard the shouts and ran excitedly. I really found it. That's my key. I took the key and gratefully said to my grandfather, "Thank you!" " "At this moment, tears are not obedient is coming down! Grandpa stroked my head and said to me, "watch your things next time!" "I see." I'm embarrassed to answer.

At this point, I have no mood to enjoy the beautiful scenery. On the way home, I carefully recalled the process of picking up the key, and my heart was warm ... the world was full of love and warmth everywhere. A love, a warmth.

If the world is an ocean of love, then warmth will spread all over the world. Composition 3: The sunshine in warm winter is warm, the breeze in spring is warm, your helping hand is warm, a word of concern is warm, and an encouragement in trouble is warm ... Is life full of warmth everywhere? This problem bothers me.

Under the overpass next to my building, there was a street child who lived there for half a year. In the past six months, he has never left his feet. Many people passed by the overpass, but everyone showed disdain for him. Until one day, when I passed the overpass, an aunt in front found him. Aunt walked over and he turned around. Aunt saw the burn marks on his face, got a fright, and hurriedly left. At that time, I thought, it seems that the true feelings in this world are really hard to survive! I sighed at him and was about to leave when I suddenly saw a figure flash past me. I was shocked. Didn't that aunt leave? Why did she come back? She has a bag of buns, biscuits and a bottle of mineral water in her hand. She watched him eat, and his aunt cried and he cried, holding his face and asking questions. At that time, I thought, is this child her own? If so, why doesn't she leave it alone?

With all kinds of doubts, I was just about to ask, "Xiao Wang" stopped me. An old woman with a few years old children walked past me and walked up to her aunt and said, "Xiao Wang, you are doing it again." Take someone else without children. You have no money. Forget it. I won't talk about it. By the way, Aunt Wang, the landlord, asked you to pay the rent for the first two months. Aunt stood up and said to him, "here you are, don't run around." Aunt will come to see you when she is free! " "Aunt with children, followed grandma, look back from time to time.

The child cried and said thank you to her. I'm still standing there, watching their distant backs, letting me know that such true feelings make others feel warm and happy.

However, is Aunt Wang the only one who has such true feelings? Composition 4: Warm at home, my parents' care and love give me a lot of warmth, and the education and help of my teachers and classmates at school also give me a lot of warmth. Something happened last semester, which made me feel very warm.

One day in Chinese class, I was listening to the teacher attentively. Suddenly, I felt a little bloated. I thought I might have eaten too much at noon, so I pressed it with my hand.