If you stubbornly believe that listening to rain in summer is too noisy, listening to rain in autumn is too bleak, and listening to rain in winter is too rare, then listening to rain in spring must open the window and turn off the lights. Listening to the spring rain is impeccable.
"Sneak into the night with the wind and moisten things silently." When nameless troubles strike, when everything in the world falls into silence, when several dogs bark to break the silence, listen and listen carefully. ...
Rain falls from the sky, falls on the branches, falls on the roof, along the eaves, falls on the ground, and finally falls into the soil … Listen, listen carefully …
The rain is lingering and gently blown by the evening breeze, forming a harmonious movement, which is very rhythmic, sometimes slow and sometimes sharp ... Listen, listen carefully. ...
Do you feel that you have merged with nature?
This rain, singing softly, hollows out your thoughts, expresses your melancholy, interprets your doubts, fills your imagination, and makes you feel as if you have become a drop of rain, a tree, a grass, a bunch of flowers, a handful of soil ... This rain makes time seem to freeze, and only the clock on the wall tells you that life is still going on.
Listen, listen, I seem to be in a winding alley, extending far away. I also met a girl with lilac-like sadness, a girl with dreams and clouds.
This rain purified my soul and made me find a pure land and a comfort in my own world. Will my growing regrets become beautiful in this gentle song? The rain is so pure, as pure as my tears, in which I can't see myself clearly.
Too much missing, too much nonsense, too much feeling, too much melancholy, too much missing can only be released one by one in this drizzly day.
Tear up the last calendar, so I go to be a memory, I look for it carefully, I wait forever, expecting a brand-new myself, leaving a rainy night and a new footprint. ...
Listening to the rain, listening to the spring rain, can not be explained in words, can only understand. ...
Excerpt from Exquisite Article 2 On time:
Perhaps there is an ocean hidden in our hearts, and two lines of clear tears flow out, but I don't feel lonely. I just like to write bleak. Once our perfunctory emotions floated in the curve of others' memory and became speechless. Is that throbbing just an illusion left by years? I don't believe my eyes. I didn't cry, I just learned to miss.
Once we had a beautiful vision of "facing the sea and blooming in spring" like Haizi. Once we were deeply impressed by the past of that year. Once we didn't know that we were busy partying every night. Once we pretended to deceive ourselves ... In our past time, sad and happy memories were connected together like pearls, which constituted our beautiful years.
Looking back, it seems that the years have passed and our hearts are inexplicably quiet. Maybe our hearts are getting old and getting away from youth. Once, we would be heartbroken for something, and we would be happy for something. We will love someone so much that we can't help hating someone. We can love and hate, but we can't be careless. However, the years rustled like birch leaves in the wind, but now our hearts are as calm as a stream. It turns out that anyone can forget the joys and sorrows, and anyone can live simply.
Excerpt from Exquisite Article 3 Peace of mind and happiness:
Autumn rain sprinkled on the branches, and wisps of smoke were woven into sorrow. Looking at the fallen flowers and residual red everywhere, the once graceful branches decorated others' dreams. Now the flowers have fallen, once gorgeous and beautiful. Look at the pearls on the petals, not swaying in the breeze, slipping quietly. What I don't give up is sadness, the dust has passed, and I am in a hurry. No need to be sad, flowers will not lose their fragrance because they leave the branches; Grass will not give up hope of life because of the cold winter. This year's flowers are better than last year's, and next year's flowers will be even better and the flowers will be the most beautiful, which will live up to the world of mortals.
Counting the years that have passed, happiness is accompanied by sadness. In the depths of time, the most beautiful things will never fade, those pains will be blurred after a long time, and the memories left behind are also incomplete fragments. When you are not satisfied, you will always compare the past with the good. You will miss the past and hate the present. You will never know that the past is the present and the present will pass. Walk in the world of mortals, be a carefree vegetation woman, let the breeze kiss you, and make your heart fragrant and warm. The journey of life, there will always be thousands of turns, sadness, joy and cold, four seasons, beautiful scenery. If you know, this is all the beauty given by life. Some people, some things, may enter your eyes, slip through your heart and slip away quietly, perhaps just to meet and leave a landscape. Enrich your mind with the beauty of the road and turn it into your own style.
Exquisite article excerpts from April flowers:
Pretending to wander, I can't help lying in rape blossoms. All the troubles in my life have disappeared. I ran to the sky, to a distant place that you and I can't care about. I looked at the sky with emotion. The sky is so blue and the white clouds are so elegant. The rustling sound in my ear suddenly constitutes the most beautiful music in nature. The faint, quiet fragrance of flowers makes people forget themselves unconsciously, as if they were with heaven and earth, shining with the sun and the moon, looking around quietly, without noise and sadness, and we have become the most transparent part of nature. Drunk, the sky is drunk, I am drunk, you are drunk, drunk in the world, drunk in all right and wrong, grateful and resentful, drunk all your life.
Flowers bloom all over the sky, falling flowers float in the air and fall on the ground, like snowflakes flying all over the sky in winter, crystal clear; Like the broken nectar spilled by the queen mother, it is fragrant and sweet; Like an elf dancing on earth, naive and naughty. The white cherry blossoms in full bloom in April are in the most beautiful season. White and pink flowers are scattered everywhere, which makes people unable to bear to trample. They walked by with open hands, taking away the fragrance and fragrance. Close your eyes, open your mind and hold your head up. You are holding up a smiling face, a smiling face at a 45-degree angle with the sun. Petals fall on hair tips, eyebrows, faces, and intoxicated hearts.
Excerpts from wonderful articles 5 Life is like a play. ...
Life is like a play, we have staged joys and sorrows, tried to laugh and cry; Life is like a play. We have experienced prosperity and adversity, tasted the sweetness of success and the bitterness of failure. The taste, only oneself can thoroughly understand. Others may think that our performance is too exaggerated, but that's actually our truest reaction.
Life is like a play. If you are not careful, you will always lay the groundwork, waiting for us to suddenly realize one day. Maybe someone can see the opportunity, and they can turn everything into luck; Maybe some people are lucky enough to survive; Maybe someone is too slow to sigh.
Life is like a play. We thought we could change our destiny, but the outcome was doomed. No matter what you do, you can't get rid of the established arrangements in the play. It can be said that all roads lead to the same goal. From this perspective, our struggles and struggles are like clowns dancing, which makes people laugh.
Life is like a play. No matter what the audience thinks of the play, we will never hear it in the play, so we can only perform our lives according to the arrangement. Even if the audience applauds us, we will not be happy; Even if the audience cheers for us, we will not be depressed. Because this play belongs to us, we should judge whether it is good or bad.
Excerpt from Exquisite Article 6 Miss you, with faint sadness:
Miss you, every morning when the sun rises. Before I opened my hazy eyes, I began to secretly miss you, your smile, your cry, your tolerance, your bullying, your generosity and your narrow-mindedness. At that moment, there was nothing else in my mind, including myself.
Miss you every afternoon. I am used to lounging in my chair in the afternoon, looking at the blue sky and the long white clouds. I know this is your pursuit. I am used to holding my chin in my hands, and I put myself in sentimental music. Every beating note touches my heartstrings. Every word of the lyrics seems to be born because of your story, and I have been moved for a long time. Tears occasionally, not sadness, not disappointment, but thoughts seep into my bones. Nowhere to run, nowhere to put, without it.
Miss you, in every quiet night, you can clearly hear your heartbeat. Shake off the fatigue of the day, lie quietly in bed with your hands folded, and wonder whether you have drunk a few glasses of wine, whether you are full, whether you will be late again, whether my occasional urging will make you feel disgusted, whether you should leave a lot of room for each other, and it is unnecessary to think a lot about you. I simply miss you and don't want to disturb you. I just want to turn my full yearning for you into a gentle poem through the flowing pen tip, send it as a note, fold it into a boat, and let it drift, just waiting for you to pick it up gently and keep my passionate love firmly.
Excerpt from Exquisite Chapter 7 Reading Time:
Reading fleeting time is to accumulate wisdom. The more you study hard, the less you will be afraid and uneasy. The journey of life, no one will be smooth sailing, everything goes well. Those layers of obsession will go away silently with the waves of the years. The journey of life is full of hardships. From lamenting the injustice of fate to smiling, I just walk on a road that can't be bypassed, which once again confirms the humbleness of life and deduces a life law that is happy with the times.
No matter how changeable the images in the years are, as long as we keep an undisturbed heart, no matter how the wind of the world shakes, we will be shocked and calm as always. As long as the heart is warm, it will not encounter the coldness of the years, and it will always be infiltrated by a touch of warm color.
After crossing time and space and absorbing the essence of dawn, we gradually learned tolerance and peace, and also learned to be brave and face. Even if I miss the most beautiful years, I still have no regrets because of my personal experience; Even if I stay away from the past, I have no regrets because I have had it. All the twists and turns are a profound text or a real picture in the long scroll of years, so real but not illusory. Chewing while walking, let us gradually understand that life is far more meaningful than complexity; Giving is far more than receiving happiness; Dull, far more prosperous than reality. Whoever has a plain life like water will live a quiet and stable life like a still stream.
Excerpts from 8 beautiful articles that are disappointing:
I think, as long as I am a tiller, my heart may always be the season of sowing, and I will always guard the abundance of that season. Although there are fallen leaves in front of us. The season is always a silent cycle, however, the old things in the season are getting clearer and clearer. I always think of the sweet potato that has just been planed out, which is purple and slightly earthy. In the field where the autumn wind blows, pulling up a few edamames, breaking off a few ears of corn, digging up a few peanuts, and smoking with firewood in a sheltered place will instantly give off an intoxicating fragrance. Then, I ran to the persimmon tree and picked some red and purple persimmons, and a real "picnic" passed like this. Later, I joined the Air Force, and just after the Mid-Autumn Festival, I always received cloth shoes sewn by my mother in the remote northern Xinjiang. Such cloth shoes don't fit my feet. I wore cloth shoes made by my mother, spent one late autumn after another, and went through one journey after another. Mother left, but the pair of cloth shoes, a needle and a thread that accompanied me through a long journey have long been engraved in the past of my life.
In this autumn, I can't help but think of the fallen leaves, the past in the fleeting time, and the affection in my memory. In the time of drifting away, every fresh life is infiltrated, which keeps us away from disappointment.
Excerpts from Exquisite Articles 9 If there is reincarnation, I will still be the The Kite Runner:
Life is like a galloping train, galloping on the journey of life and showing the beauty of blooming youth. We are all the protagonists of the story, whether familiar, unfamiliar, met, missed, remembered or forgotten, we are all trying our best to play our roles, just for a never-ending performance. Although some people get off and some get on, they go straight ahead.
Although the hourglass of the years has smoothed everyone's edges and corners, the silhouette of the past is like snowflakes. But it is not the origin of waiting on the horizon, it is not lost in waiting, it is not addicted to memories. What is missed is missed, the end is over, and the beginning has just begun. No need to turn around, no need to linger, no need to pay homage.
It coincides with youth, and the years are quiet. Unconsciously, I began to miss the scenery along the way. Suddenly, the vast sky opened its arms and was filled with fragrance everywhere. It turns out that life is like an altar of old wine. The more you brew, the more you accumulate and the more mellow you are. Quiet time, stable reality, how can you accidentally miss it? Walking among rice flowers, fishing by the river and resting in the lazy sunshine are all happiness. At this time, I don't want to bloom overnight like an epiphyllum, and I don't want to wither in a bright season like cherry blossoms. I just want to be wrapped in ordinary warmth and enjoy the warmth of home.
Exquisite article excerpt 10 grinding a Chi Mo for you:
The moment when flowers bloom is not for meeting, but for joy that has never been missed. For this moment, I endured separation, whether I live far apart or in the future, I am not afraid. Because of this uncertainty in my heart, I am willing to wait. How many seasons of flowers have withered because of this waiting, so my hair is white and the years are rustling.
In my affectionate words, you sang my sadness and helplessness. Without you, I'm like a tracker on the Volga River. Years see you and I languish on the other side, and then grow old inch by inch. The feelings piled up by words slowly wither in the fleeting time, and are shot through the heart lamps with hope by the arrow of time. Will you and I eventually become passers-by
I read what I gave you once, and my heart is pounding. I often ask myself where I should put you and where I should put myself. Who makes words beautiful? For whom do words cry? For whom do you write eternal sadness, and for whom do you write happy notes? Who made a promise in spring, and who vowed to walk hand in hand in the wind and rain?
The wind blew your bitter voice in your ear, and suddenly there was silence.
Maybe you don't understand my sadness, and you are often confused by my indecision. Maybe you will never feel this peace in my heart, so I am speechless and exhausted, and I can only let the ghost of my words wander in your heart, empty and lonely.
I wrote a sad chapter for you tonight. My thoughts and tears sang softly between the lines. My slender fingers danced on the gray keyboard, grinding out a pool of ink for you, and recording the scenes of our love and hate, which never came back and forth, paragraph by paragraph.
Even on a rainy day, my tears blurred the figure of turning away. For example, after a dry year, I occasionally think that these words can be colorful and spread out in my memory, because they are the testimony of my love, because they are the continuation of my parting thoughts, and because they are a fleeting romantic relationship, short as a flash in the pan, but so unforgettable.