The story of time 1 I am at the ends of the earth, and you are in the east, west, north and south. I am strangers, but I am destined to get together and then get to know each other.
Maybe I will never forget that day: I am young and ignorant, and you are still unknown to me. It must be a warm and sunny day. I carry a brand-new schoolbag in the north, with tears in my eyes and sugar in my mouth. I was dragged to a strange place by my family's slender arms. That place is called a school, and that person is you, your teacher.
From that day on, I can't live without you You take me to play various games and learn all kinds of knowledge every day. You are like an ocean of wisdom. There is nothing you don't know. I really want to be a person like you, a person who knows everything.
The river of years still flows quietly, and my days are getting higher and higher.
I bid farewell to the carefree days, and you seem to be a different person. Then those laughter, fun, freshness and beauty were taken away by the wind and replaced by the terrible, indifferent and boring homework you assigned me. Schools in Judah can't find free land. I am very confused; You are in a hurry. I'm beginning to get tired of studying and hate you. But you never give up on me, talk to me from time to time, listen to me talk to you about my troubles, let me understand the meaning of learning and re-recognize the rate of progress. Finally, I understand your good intentions. You often teach me: "Reading is for myself", but I want to say: "Reading is also to repay you."
Time flows quietly like running water, taking away my confusion and sadness. I grew up day by day ...
In a blink of an eye, you said that I came to the crossroads of life, and I had to endure the pain of phoenix nirvana before I could fly to a broader sky. I am not who I used to be, but you are still who you used to be. I'm ready, you're ready, let's start ... It's time to leave. There is no long pavilion to drink, fold willows and wave the sunset, so we parted lightly and flew to another sky with your hopes, my dreams and the precious wealth you gave me.
Now, I come here and meet you again. You are still the same as before, and I will continue to fly far away under your leadership.
Time flows quietly like running water, taking away those precious past, but never taking away the friendship between you and me. ...
I am your student and you are my teacher.
The Story of Time Excellent Composition 2 "If life is just like the first time, why draw a fan in the autumn wind?" I sat on the train of youth, and it never looked back, looking at the back that flashed outside the window. How much can I remember?
In the first grade of primary school, I still remember the joy of watching cartoons with Pudding.
When I was in the fifth grade of primary school, my deskmate mentioned a person. I said I didn't know him, and he looked at me trembling: "How did you forget? He stayed in our class for a year and transferred to another school at the beginning of the year. " I shook my head, no impression in my mind.
After graduation, I am looking forward to the class reunion on the day when the list is released. Unexpectedly, it was a batch of notices. I don't see anyone. I walked home silently in the scorching sun. I looked up at the sky, but I couldn't cry.
I still vaguely remember my primary school classmates, but I gradually forgot them. They are like black and white photos, clear and far away, covered with the dust of the years. Junior high school life is a bright live broadcast. It will take three years to have fun.
When I was in the third grade, I went back to my former classroom to find the poems I wrote on my desk, but unfortunately they were all gone. I was standing in an empty classroom when tears burst into my eyes.
On the day of the examination, I photographed the interior of the third grade classroom and left forever. Because of military training, I missed the last happy reunion.
Now, day after day, I shuttle through the sea of people and live a life of three points and one line. I told myself that I was happier than before. Isn't it? I grew up in the pain and farewell of youth. Love is like floating clouds, gathering and scattering. We are dust in the universe, trying to live humbly. Between the vicissitudes of life, I think I have always had the best years and the best passers-by
Time, what is time? It can take everything away from us, but it can't break the cycle of love. Pu Shu's "Those Flowers" sang: "Are they all old? Where are they? " The vast sea of people, it turns out that meeting is really such a beautiful and magical thing.
Once again, a friend will leave our science class. I hugged her and smiled and said, "Trust me, the right person will meet again." So why be sad?
Think of Xanthium sibiricum's ABCD about you-"Before you meet Z, cherish ABCD...XY, just as you cherish yourself."
It turns out that it is not the years that have passed, but us.
If time is short, please try your best to remember the story of time and then forget it brilliantly.
Because, we are all stars that have illuminated each other, smiling and embracing each other in the floating years.
The Story of Time Excellent Composition 3 Those forgotten in memory gradually settle down and become quiet and beautiful patterns in our hearts. However, when something really touches those memories, they will fly away like dust, and then the warm picture will come back to my eyes. There will be waves of sadness about passing away in our hearts, which will last for a long time.
When I read the article "Time flies like water", I really remembered my primary school days. Although the author's experience is different from mine, her article is the feeling caused by returning to high school campus, but the feeling of missing her alma mater, teachers and classmates and school time at that time is the same.
I seem to hear the laughter of my old classmates again. I close my eyes and imagine myself sitting in that familiar classroom, surrounded by you, him, her and them. I hear you calling my name, a distant voice, and there is a vague tremor in my memory. I heard the sound of his basketball landing. I think I can hear his sweat dripping in the running footsteps. I heard her laugh, and the silvery sound got into my ears. I heard them doing their homework quietly, and the sound of "rustling" spread in the air and became a still note. I heard her talking on the podium about the math problem that made most people sleepy. I heard him strike the table when he was angry. I heard the wind whistling through the treetops. I heard the music of eye exercises playing on the old school radio.
I heard you. How can I see you again? Sadness spread quietly, and I remembered the days when I was with you.
Sometimes it takes a long time to conceive a sentence, and then I look at the words I spent a lot of time writing, and I am satisfied and ecstatic. Sometimes we spend little time thinking about the past, and then we look back sadly on our traces in those lost times.
If time is really like water, then please flow slowly and then slowly. If time can go back, I hope to go back to the day we met. The story of time begins again. In the story, there are moments when we are lost.
Time Story Excellent Composition 4 Time, like silent running water, quietly flashed through my fingers; Time drips quietly from my eyes like an hourglass; Time, like the first ray of sunshine in the morning, can't be redeemed when it passes. We should be masters of time, seize it and cherish it. "Time is like water in a sponge. As long as you are willing to squeeze it, there will always be some." This sentence has accompanied me through countless spring and autumn periods. It is like my soul mate, guiding the direction when I am confused, opening the diary of the past, and a story can't help but appear in my mind. ...
I remember that it was a hurried morning, and a basket of things weighed on me, and my mind kept turning: math homework, English homework, manuscripts, greeting cards … countless choices were placed in front of me, which made me feel at a loss. Just when I was confused, the bell rang. Suddenly something was missing in my heart. I still don't know why. I became anxious and didn't listen carefully in class. Finally, class begins, thinking, alas! Time is so short, and I don't have eight hands. Why am I so busy?
My hand is flipping through the Chinese book at will. In a flash, I saw a famous saying of Lu Xun: Time is like water in a sponge. As long as you are willing to squeeze it, there is always some. This sentence suddenly woke me up, and I seemed to understand something. I quickly straighten things out in my mind, then do it according to my thinking, seize all the time and do simple math first. I try to restrain my impatience and treat every problem with my heart, alas! A thinking problem stumped me. I think hard and can't figure out why. There are many drafts, but there are no correct answers. There was a small wave in my heart, but when I thought of that sentence, I took the time to forget everything else and count it carefully. In this way, I successfully completed math, followed by English. I remember there is a word I have never learned, and I can't find it through English books. I can't help but panic when I think that there are still many things. I asked my classmates, and neither will my classmates. But on second thought, maybe "it" has a way, so I found the dictionary. Because of the time, I took time to look through every class and finally found it. I silently thanked this sentence and felt more and more handy. I take time out of my spare time to finish my homework. Unexpectedly, I actually finished everything before school started. I was surprised that that sentence came to my mind from time to time.
I am grateful for this sentence, which makes my time "more" and my heart richer.
The story of time is another late autumn.
The cold wind in December hit the face, and the ginkgo trees in autumn leaves were covered with golden or bare trunks. On my way home, I passed by the school at that time, but I didn't go in. I just saw it outside the wall, and my heart was full of waves. Not far away, several seven or eight-year-old boys are chasing and fighting. Now, let me go back to the past ...
I don't remember how long it's been. A science teacher assigned an assignment: find a leaf you like in school. It was a season then and now. The campus is full of leaves, and many people are picking around in the field, and I am no exception. Among the red, yellow and even green leaves, I chose a dark red one. It's just a leaf as long as the index finger, and the veins are clearly visible. At that time, I just learned a text, which mentioned using leaves as bookmarks, so I put that dark red leaf in a book. But I gave the book as a gift to my classmates, and the leaf never appeared in front of me again, and I was not happy in that science class.
I picked up a leaf on the ground and studied it carefully. In the sun, I can clearly see the fine hairs on the leaves. I smiled bitterly. I didn't know how to cherish until I lost it, but I couldn't find the original feeling.
A distant journey, yesterday's dreams and distant laughter. Looking back, those little boys have long since disappeared. Only I stood there, thinking about those childhood days.
I remembered the Alps and white rabbits prepared for class on my birthday. The students clapped their hands and sang a happy birthday song for me. I should have been very happy, but my heart is a little sour, my nose is sour and my eyes are red. Several careful classmates found it and came to comfort me. The teacher saw it and smiled at me, only saying "cherish it". Yes, now we have long been estranged, and I have some connections, just a New Year's resolution. ...
The cold wind hit my face again, so I hurried home. Turn on the computer, search for the song: The Story of Time, and play:
-flowers in spring, wind in autumn, sunset in winter, melancholy youth, I used to think so ignorant.
I hummed softly, my memory is still vivid, and my sadness spread in my heart. Bookmarks in textbooks, faded Christmas cards, and diaries that have long since disappeared are all left in the story of time, and I only sigh that I am in a hurry.
The Story of Time Excellent Composition 6 In the long story of time, not every protagonist is so eye-catching. In their hearts, they are persisting, overcoming the deepest darkness and creating their own stories.
In mid-July, when the lotus was in full bloom, walking on the edge of the lotus pond suddenly calmed down a lot. The phrase "green lotus covers green water and hibiscus is red and fresh" describes the lotus pond in midsummer, which is really ingenious. The delicate lotus petals gradually turn pink from root to tip, and the crystal water drops fall on the lotus along the smooth petals, which makes me wonder which woman in the world can have the delicate face of the lotus!
When I came to the lotus pond again, it was early autumn, and only a few dead leaves were floating in the once vibrant lotus pond. I am very disappointed. Without the delicate lotus, there would be no beauty of today's lotus pond. I turned to leave, but I was attracted by the boat by the lotus pond. Several well-equipped workers stepped into the lotus pond, trying to reach out and explore underwater things. This further aggravated my curiosity, and I squatted on the edge of the pond to observe it carefully.
With the splash of soil, a three-foot long lotus root was pulled out. I froze, only to see the tanned workers lift the lotus root and show their white teeth. "This pond lotus root is really growing well this year!" The workers cried with joy, but I don't seem to have recovered. I marveled at the silent life under this pond, and couldn't help reaching out to touch the dug lotus root. You still smell of simple muddy water, and the mud covers its true face, but the inside of the lotus root is so white that people can't imagine its real living environment.
When the lotus comes out of the mud and is not stained, we are all looking at the lotus seriously. Summer is short, the weather is hot, and they are brilliant in the sun. For lotus root, the same short summer is the best time for its growth. In the mud, in the depths, lotus root, persist. As the last net of hell.
It's cold, we should forget the lotus. Miss a lotus root, miss its persistence in the dark, miss its miracle of writing in a limited time.
Time has given everything in the world notebooks with different thicknesses, and everyone wants to leave the best story on their limited paper. It was not until I finished writing the last page that I realized that the truly wonderful and successful story was not as vain and delicate as the lotus, but as practical and true as the lotus.
Time is like a thief. It stole our innocence and the pride of our youth-the inscription.
There are only 140 days left before the college entrance examination. Senior three, we repeat the same thing every day, just to strive for a future.
Get up at dawn every day, brush your teeth and wash your face in a sleepy state; Every day, I reluctantly followed the test papers of various subjects and cursed the hateful test papers; Take a few minutes to catch up on sleep after class every day. When I was in the third year of high school, I wrote my vows on my desk and drew my helplessness on the manuscript paper. As soon as the bell rang, I began to resist sleepiness and rewarded myself with headphones during my lunch break.
Test papers, whether you like it or not, must be written; Breakfast, whether delicious or not, must be eaten; Being late, regardless of panic, will still be criticized by the old class. After the wry smile, it turned into terror, and before you know it, more than half of your senior year has passed!
Everyone has their own ideals, but their goals are different. Students who want the college entrance examination are tired enough to learn English; Students who want to take an undergraduate course, in addition to three main courses, comprehensive management is also a big problem. No one is more relaxed than anyone else. Looking up every day is the striking countdown to the college entrance examination in the upper right corner of the blackboard, and bowing down is "May 3rd".
Will I miss these boring and hard days after graduation? Do you think of those "shocking laughter" in class? Will there be a moment when I want to go back to Ren Yuan?
Of course, I want to come back and see if the head teacher is getting fatter, the Chinese teacher is getting more and more beautiful, the English teacher is still smoking as before, the chemistry teacher has a boyfriend, the physics teacher is getting more handsome, and the math teacher is still so funny.
Senior three is hard to avoid suffering. What is bitter is not the intense study and the brain that is about to be burnt, but the classmates who are about to leave and get along with each other day and night, as well as the teachers of Dundun. Maybe it won't happen again.
At the graduation meeting, I will record everyone's appearance with a camera, because that is probably the most expressive face. I also want to wear the school uniform that we think is ugly, because I won't have a chance to wear it to school in the future. All youth is the most beautiful, and all regrets are the most impressive.
Therefore, "the young spring and autumn dream wakes up in the rain filled with the north wind", and then, the running water takes away the story of time and youth, but it can't take away our attachment.