Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. When I turned around, I was dazzled, and everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; The faint light is only immersed in the angels in the paintings on the wall. -angels in white, holding flowers, holding wings, smiled at me. "This smile seems to have been seen somewhere. When will I ... "
I unconsciously sat under the window, thinking quietly. The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out an impression of five years ago. A long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch gurgled. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke. Bowed crescent moon, hanging in the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of white things. The donkey passed by with no intention of turning back. He smiled at me barefoot with flowers in his arms.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere!" I still want to-silently.
Another curtain of gravity appeared, which slowly opened and poured out the impression of ten years ago. -the rain under the eaves falls on Mao's clothes drop by drop. The blisters on the edge of the earth steps are turning. The straw and grape trellis in front of the door are all new yellow and light green, which are very bright and beautiful. ── After a while, it finally cleared up, and I hurried down the mountain. I saw the moon coming head-on from the sea, and suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, stopped and turned around. The old woman in this small room-leaning against the door, holding flowers, smiled at me slightly. This equally subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and gathers together.
At this time, I feel relaxed and happy, such as entering the celestial world and returning to my hometown. San Xiao, who appeared in front of me, suddenly melted and couldn't see clearly in the harmony of love.
Excerpts from Bingxin's beautiful essays (2)
The scenery outside the window, immersed in my tired heart, makes me carefree and intoxicated.
Sometimes the river looks as far as the eye can see, and the river sails slightly. Under the morning light, it is extremely clear and beautiful. I have always liked the scenery in the north, so I have to fall in love with the elegance and gentleness of Jiangnan.
Tonight the night is as cold as water, and there is only myself under the lamp.
It's raining in Mao Mao outside the window. By this time, I can't hold back.
A cool breeze blew gently and the ship was sailing on the ice. After crossing the Korean border, the sea is like a lake. Blue pole and green pole, condensed into one. The golden light of the sunset, like a long snake, went straight from the horizon to the stands of others. From the sky to the water in front of the ship, from light red to dark green, it has become dozens of colors, one layer after another. ..... children, I hate that I can't draw. Words are the most useless things in the world. I can't write such an ethereal and wonderful scene!
Excerpts from Bing Xin's essays (3) A bird
I remembered something I saw under the court tree the day before yesterday.
There is a bird whose nest is on the highest branch, and its feathers are not full enough to fly far; Just chirping in the nest and talking to two old birds every day. They all feel very happy.
This morning, it woke up. Both old birds have gone to feed. It looked out and saw bright sunshine, green trees and beautiful scenery on the earth. Suddenly, its little brain is full of new ideas. It fluttered its feathers and flew to the branches, releasing songs praising "Nature". Its sound is full of clarity, lightness and beauty. When singing, it seems that "nature" is listening with a smile.
There are many children under the tree. When they hear this song, they all look up-
Birds come out to sing every day, and children come to listen to them every day. Finally, they want to catch it.
Come out again! It was about to make a sound when suddenly it snorted. A marble flew from below. It turned over and fell from the tree.
The two old birds in the Xieci flew like arrows, caught it and carried it back to the nest. Its blood dripped from the gap in the tree to the ground.
Since then, this song has disappeared.
Those children want to look up at it and listen to its singing, but they can't.
Excerpts from American literature
1, nothing is absolute. If you feel warm, I will be warm. If not, then you are on the road, and we have peers.
2. Yes! Affection, like a pot of tea, warms everyone's heart; Family, like a fan, relieves the summer heat for everyone.
3, gold leaves, the sigh of fallen leaves. Quiet autumn, quiet enough to hear the sound of a needle falling to the ground. How quiet!
At the same time every day, a steaming glass of milk becomes my indispensable companion. My mother seems to be counting the time, and even the temperature is adjusted to tepid, just to meet my urgent need to warm my body.
Different from the sultry summer, the cold wind in winter really penetrated into the flesh and blood, and the whistling high wind came with the cold. This season of winter, like a rebellious sword, overdraws the poor warmth and makes the cold of Bohemia surge.
Among so many brothers and sisters, grandpa loves me the most. Every time something good happens, the first thing that comes to mind is me. I remember that once my grandfather's love for me made me unforgettable. ...
7. Grandma's big cattail leaf fan exudes an ancient and simple taste, which seems to record some years soaked in sweat. The constant cicada singing and the gentle breeze of the cattail leaf fan made me sleep peacefully with moonlight and slight coolness.
8. In winter, it began to snow. There is no color, only white. Everything began to sleep, silent. In the evening, it began to snow.
9. What makes you warm? Cold comes from the desire for warmth, and warmth is bred from the escape from cold. Such a paradox, people are always in the cold and warm.
10, holding a cup of hot tea, with a long aftertaste; Play for a while and listen to this wordless love. Thank you, this deep warmth has given me warm care; Thank you, this slow cooling makes me have to rely on snuggling. The gifts of these years have bloomed indifferently in my heart, and my blood is mixed with gratitude and happiness.
1 1, all the year round is like a Rubik's cube, turning and turning, this time it turns to quiet autumn, and the next time it turns to cold winter. I really hope it won't turn to cold winter, but winter also has its unique beauty!
12, I don't know whether I like loneliness or get used to it. No withdrawn personality, no melancholy poet temperament, like to be alone.
13. All the year round is like a watercolor pen, with warm colors in spring, fiery red in summer, golden in autumn and cold white in winter. I like this quiet autumn best.
14, I always feel that I will stop blogging strongly one day, and then start blogging unconsciously. People always like to go back to the original point and can't help but say it won't happen again. In this cycle, expectations produce disappointment, and disappointment brings painful feelings.
15, I am very warm today. I catch warm silk, forget the existence of cold, have friends as companions, and have self-isolation.
16, I rushed home while blowing my hand, which has become an eternal mark every winter. The temperature in my mouth stayed on my cold hand for a short moment, and then it was ruthlessly swept away by the wind. The puffed air has lost its original obedience, and the depressed cold urges me to speed up my steps, just wanting to warm my hands.
17, autumn leaves fall from dense trees, like dancing butterflies, like dancing fairies, like Santa Claus's skirt sprinkled from the blue sky, but it's not Christmas!
18, my old friend and I were on the bridge, leaning against the bar, and didn't want to look at the starry sky, so we got a chance to see the meteor, brief and beautiful. Blowing the cool breeze, I feel that the world is so convincing and beautiful.
19. Although it is pure milk that I hate most, I still want to drink it quietly. There is a mother's love and a mother's blushing smile. It is like a ray of warm but not dazzling sunshine lying quietly in my heart, covered with a golden touch, full of bright and simple love and fragrance. That cold winter, with your company, it is no longer cold.
20. After the autumn rain, the flowers are quietly leaning there in frustration. The grass has lost its vitality and vigor, and it is yellow. The street lamp gives off a faint light, which looks so monotonous and lonely under the dark sky. ...
2 1, loneliness comes from spiritual transcendence, and loneliness comes from loneliness in silence. I'm fine, I love life and enjoy the sunshine.
22. Grandpa forgot to wear it. Give it back to me. I secretly feel smug and feel great. Only I can come up with such a good idea.
23, along the bumpy dirt road, along the touch of eternal green, grandma's old house is always there looking forward to my footsteps home.
24. The grass in autumn is golden, like a girl in autumn who puts a layer of golden gauze on the grass.
25. Lovers like to exaggerate happiness, while lovelorn people are used to magnifying pain. Love gives loneliness, and loneliness shows the existence of love. Without love, people will not be lonely.
Now, grandma's hands are as full of vicissitudes as the branches of that old tree, but the slow rhythm of that cattail leaf fan has not changed after all. Strong hands will not creak because of time, but carry fragrant love and hold that long touch. Yes, the memory is short, but the years are long. I'm afraid grandma's serene big cattail leaf fan has long been her beloved shadow, I think so.
27. When I was a child, I always liked to play in the shade, touch its winding trunk, and frolic with friends by the river. Naughty dragonflies spin quietly like a gust of wind, chasing swaying flowers defiantly. We will chase it, chase it, until we come home sweaty and empty-handed.
28. The scenery along the way is full of flowers, and the years have changed.
The complete works of American excerpts
I often use the phrase "people are like this all their lives" to warn myself and convince my friends. These seven words are easy to say and sound simple, but they are profound to remember. It can make me brave when I am weak, humble when I am proud, positive when I am decadent, happy when I am in pain, and let go of everything, so I call it "a blow to the head" and "seven-character proverbs". -I often think that the hardships, troubles, grievances and grievances in this world, if any, can't be solved and digested. Will they disappear in just a few decades? If so, what can't be solved?
People have been thinking about this sentence all their lives. If I were a hero, I would make greater achievements. If I were a scholar, I would gain higher knowledge. If I love someone, I will tell her boldly. Because today is the past and will never come again; After this life, everything disappears. If you haven't read a book and said a word, you'll never get another chance. This is a precious life, and I must seize it!
People are like this for a lifetime, and you can actively grasp it; You can also face it calmly. Think about it, and you will be relieved! Think about it when the spirit is decadent, and you can be grateful! Because in any case, it is always lucky to have this life, and you can't come for nothing.
Selected Works of American Literature (2) Little Fish of Thought
Every pond smells of the ocean.
In every stone, there is a shadow of desert.
So the poet said: a clover, plus my imagination, is a vast grassland.
Walking in the field of autumn moon, I remembered a poet's inquiry to old Tolstoy: Do mature things hang their heads?
Yes, every step we take will become a thing of the past, whether it is a happy meeting or a painful parting, but please believe that every song we sing will not disappear in an instant, whether it is eager expectation or affectionate memories, just like Rosa? Luxembourg said: "Wherever I go, as long as I live, the sky, clouds and the beauty of life will accompany me!" "
A narrow and selfish mind will become its own hell, while a broad and cheerful mind will become a paradise for others. There is only one layer between hell and heaven.
And all the flames of jealousy always start with burning yourself.
An old writer told me, "How long has your foot been trampled?" ? But don't regret it, as long as you step on the truth, whoever steps on it will have depth. "
Don't you miss the intersection of the past when you finally win the flower of success? Don't you miss the old wood in the luxurious house you rebuilt successfully?
Selected Works of American Literature (3) Possession
There are too many beautiful things in this world to count. We always want too much and make as many things as possible our own.
Life is short as a blink of an eye, and it flows away inadvertently between possession and loss.
If you lose the sun, you still have starlight, you lose money, you still have friendship, and when life leaves you, you still have the kiss of the earth.
When you have it, cherish it; Lost, as a test of life's true knowledge, as a struggle commitment of bumpy life.
If you are honest, you give up hypocrisy; With enrichment, you will abandon boredom; With pragmatism, you will abandon impetuousness. Whether it is intentional abandonment or accidental loss, as long as it is really owned, at some point, isn't generous abandonment also a realm?
What you lose inadvertently can be won back. If you are lovelorn, you can find it in spring, but if you lose your will, you should sharpen it in winter. But you can't pick it up without laziness.
Too much desire becomes a burden. What can enrich and satisfy oneself more than having an indifferent heart?
It doesn't matter if you choose, and then you are ready to walk a mountain road.
Excerpts from American short passages
Excerpt from the essay (1) The rain gradually stopped and the warm temperature was spreading. I looked up and sniffed deeply. The air baptized by rain is particularly fresh, and my spirit does it one brace up. The dizzy head gradually wakes up, and the deep drowsiness instantly turns into nothingness. The triviality in memory slowly precipitates, and the world in front of us gradually becomes clear. With a little boring, I walked under the street lamp. With a trace of yearning, I woke up from my dream. It's hard to fall asleep after waking up. Reading those affectionate words, listening to the endless horns of distant vehicles and watching the pictures of people gathering and leaving, I seem to break free from the rain. I even doubt whether it really rained lightly tonight.
Light rain is nowhere to be found. They have entered life and become tonight. Their concealment caught me off guard, and I couldn't print their traces warmly. So, I finally gave up my attachment to the rain.
Although the rain has faded out of my life, I still believe that in the bright red flowers and the bright autumn moon, they have entrusted themselves to tonight.
Excerpts from the passage (2) Snow
Whenever snowflakes float, there is always an indelible plot, which reminds me of my childhood memories of snowy days, although vague but clear. It was cold every winter at that time, but I still liked snowy days. Looking at the misty snowflakes flying all over the sky, I always have endless worries, thinking about how the crystal-clear shape of snowflakes came from and why I can come but can't come back.
When I was a child, I liked to hold snowflakes in my hands and watch them melt slowly in my hands. Water drops dripped from my fingers, and I put my hand on my mouth to keep warm. When the snow is thick, I like to have a snowball fight with my friends to see who can hit it accurately, and I am wet all over. I like making snowmen, although there is no modeling. I rolled my head on it, drew an eye, patted my big nose and stuck it on it. From a distance, I really sat there like a fat doll, and that kind of happiness remained in my heart.
Mother always greets loudly at the door, telling her to go home and keep warm. Mother patted the snowflake on me, holding the little red hand and baking it by the stove. The clothes smelled hot. Seeing the lifeless look on my mother's face, I rubbed my little hand and felt warm.
When I grew up, my mother left and slept in heaven forever. As a father myself, I know a lot of things, and sometimes I often think that a person's life is like this snowflake, which is synthesized by water vapor, gathers into weight, falls to the earth, kisses the soil quietly, leaves no trace, but moistens the earth and breeds new life.
The process of life is long. Suffering and happiness are never twin brothers and sisters. Many things are not transferred by one's own will. Some people work hard all their lives and get nothing. Some people have a rich family and a luxurious life, but they all have their own happiness in their inner world. Whether they are lucky or sad, they just have different understandings of happiness.
Snowflakes are still floating, spreading all over the earth, and life is endless, moving slowly in its own direction without stopping for a moment.
Looking at the snowflake, I felt deep love, and stretched out my hands, waiting for the flying snowflake to melt in my hands. ...
Excerpts from Short Essays (3) Spring of Life
A day's plan lies in the morning, and a year's plan lies in the spring. We all long for spring, because spring is not only the season of sowing, but also the season of hope, and it is a brand-new season of life in my heart.
I don't know when, the northland, which had been sleeping for a winter, woke up quietly, only to see the endless Tangwang River flowing happily. Many unknown flowers on both sides of the strait were in full bloom, and the unwilling grass forgot its shyness in the past and decorated every inch of its hometown with its inherent green. Really entered a "grass knows spring soon, all kinds of red and purple compete for grass" affectionate world.
Whenever I am bathed in the warm sunshine in spring, whenever I walk on the green lawn, whenever I look at the homeland where I was born and raised, I dare not forget the responsibility and responsibility of men every moment.
I remember that life has been bumpy and I am treading on thin ice in a difficult world. Once upon a time, I went to other places for a living. Every night, deep homesickness always makes me miss for thousands of miles, and I don't know how many sleepless nights I have spent. There is always a belief that supports me in difficulties, and that is special self-confidence: the spring in my life will come again, and it is with this belief that I have spent one winter after another in my life.
Nowadays, due to various factors, the selected project has once again fallen into an unprecedented crisis and stood at the demarcation point of life. Looking out of the window, the earth has already frozen, and the faint snowflakes decorate a world wrapped in silver. In this warm room, the cold in my heart lingers. I know that everyone is silently enduring the hardships of life, fighting against the secular, fighting against ups and downs, and fighting against life, which not only created my life that I never gave up.
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?