related data
additional remarks
1. Set clan relatives: "Book of Rites, Mourning" Zheng Xuan's Note: "Set clan relatives, that is, don't be intimate, make Zhao Mu." "Biography of the Book of Rites" Confucius and Ying Da's justice: "If the clan is separated, the flesh and blood are separated, and the sacrifice in the ancestral temple is not serious; If it is accepted, the relatives will not be separated, Zhao Mu will have a relationship, and the ancestral hall will have dignity. " Therefore, the meaning of "gathering clansmen" is to unite clansmen in the order of up and down, so as to keep them close and not fall apart. Fang Zhongyong's experimental work "takes adoptive parents and families as its significance". "Adoptive parents" is the expression of "filial piety" and "family adoption" is the expression of "benevolence". In feudal times, it was remarkable that a five-year-old child could have such ambitions. Therefore, it is no wonder that in addition to praise, people specially gave this poem to the scholars in their hometown for their evaluation.
2. Pass on the concept of a scholar in a township: "Scholar" is the name of ordinary scholar in the Tang and Song Dynasties, which is different from the students who passed the county examination in the Ming and Qing Dynasties. "One township", the whole town. This sentence should be understood as being passed on to readers in the whole town, not just to a scholar.
3. Poetry refers to things: that is, poems about things. In the past, when children were trained to write poetry, they often designated an object as a topic, requiring that the characteristics of this object and some thoughts and feelings could be expressed in poetry. This was the initial training for writing poetry.
4. In Ming Dow, I returned to my hometown to worship my ancestors: "Ming Dow", the year number of Song Renzong (1032 ~ 1033). "Ancestor", this is the name for the late father. According to: Wang Anshi's father has a good reputation, but his handwriting is not good. In the eighth year of Tiansheng (1030), he learned about Shaozhou (now Shaoguan City, Guangdong Province) through his temple. Three years later, he left with Ding You and returned to China, accompanied by Wang Anshi (then 13 years old). Accordingly, this time I returned to Ming Dow for two years (1033). In the second year of Baoyuan (1039), Wang Yi died in Jiangning (now Jiangsu). Wang Anshi wrote this article in three years (1043), so he was called "Zu".
[Edit this paragraph] Quotient
Fang Zhongyong, who was brilliant as a child, "disappeared from the crowd" before he was twenty!
After reading this article, I can't help hurting it.
I "hurt" Fang Fu, who is ignorant and greedy for cheap. Because of his "ignorance", he indirectly killed a talent.
I "hurt" Zhong Yong, who went with the flow and "wandered around the city" all day. Because he is an "unacceptable person", he directly ruined his good future.
Fang Zhongyong described in this article acted like a child prodigy at the age of five, but he got lost later, which is regrettable and worrying. As the saying goes, "a jade must be cut to make a tool" and "to err is human". The reason is clear enough-no matter how good a person's innate conditions are, if he doesn't cut, learn and practice the day after tomorrow, he will become an ordinary person who has accomplished nothing. Fang Zhongyong is a typical example. If Fang Zhongyong firmly changed "don't study" to "I want to learn", it would be another scene. People will not "hurt Zhong Yong", but "praise Zhong Yong" and "learn from Zhong Yong" ...
I think, if I were Fang Zhongyong, I would give full play to my unique innate advantages, constantly enrich myself, accumulate wealth, make myself have inexhaustible knowledge and implement the "sustainable development strategy".
If I were Fang Zhongyong, I would know that "diligence is diligence and leisure is scarcity" and take "99% diligence+1% genius = success" as my motto to remind myself at all times. Even if you make small achievements, you are not complacent and complacent, but study harder and let yourself "go up a storey still higher".
After reading the text "Upper Zhong Yong", I understand a truth: If I am a rough jade, I must "cut" it to my satisfaction and make it a "tool"; It is rusty iron, but we should persistently "grind" it to make it a "needle".
[brief comment]
This article is a review. In addition to its profound and unique feeling and vivid and concise language, its layout is also excellent. The four links of "introduction", "discussion", "connection" and "conclusion" are closely linked and deepened step by step.
The first step is to "quote": briefly quote the raw materials to express the author's regret, so as to arouse readers' resonance. (The first paragraph ① Nature)
The second step is "discussion": from the perspective of material reflection, analyze the reasons why Fang Zhongyong became a mediocre person. (Section ② ③ ④ ⑤ Natural section)
The third step is "connection": connecting with real life, the author uses "hypothesis" to put forward the relationship between the innate conditions of success and the acquired efforts, and highlights the viewpoints. (⑥ ⑦ natural section)
The fourth step "knot": put forward personal opinions from the perspective of enlightenment from the materials, summarize the full text, and express the good wish of "studying hard and determined to become a talent" (paragraph 8).
This article provides an example for students to write "thoughts after reading", which is worth learning and learning.
[Edit this paragraph] 9. Counterexample of reference and comparison of historical macroeconomics
1. Mozart's father also toured all over the country with his son since childhood, enjoying the scenery, cultivating sentiment and signing a photo. Among them, there are many nobles in the palace, dignitaries, folk artists with superb skills, and wandering pianist, who have achieved something, but look at others.
Everyone is familiar with the story of Kong Rong in the Three Kingdoms period. One day, a group of guests came to visit their home. Everyone praised Kong Rong's cleverness, but only one senior official dismissed it. The official said that "being young is appropriate, but not necessarily good", which means that Kong Rong is not smart when he grows up. Seven-year-old Kong Rong retorted: "If you want to be young, you must be young." Embarrassed and embarrassed, the official ran away. Later, they became good friends with Kong Rong, and therefore became the younger generation of Kong Rong's father, although they were peers.
[Edit this paragraph] X. Special sentence patterns
I. Elliptic sentences: (Bold for sentence supplement)
1, don't make it learn 2, make it a poem 3, influenced by heaven 4, and return to Yangzhou.
Second, inverted sentences: from Yangzhou modern word order: from Yangzhou (adverbial postposition)
Shang Zhong Yongwen/Mo Baishao
Absurd historical deduction, Zhang Guan Dai Li's Tang and Song poems, the poet's laughter and exaggeration, the cynicism of celebrities, fluent and skillful writing, realistic reflection, and the humorous combination of Zhuang and Zi make the novel quite readable.
Introduction-the last chapter
Many years later, I met Wang Anshi again. What is in front of me now is not the high-spirited and high-spirited prime minister of that year. He rode a thin little donkey and wore a blue coarse gown. The sparse white beard and hair are messy in the wind, and the knife-like wrinkles on his face are like crawling bugs. It seems that I can't open my eyes anymore, and I can only see the turbidity in the heavy opening and closing of my eyelids. He is getting old. Seeing me, he struggled to turn over from the donkey's back and staggered towards me, with a little joy in his dry eyes: "Do you know Fang Zhongyong?"
I said, "I'm lost in everyone." Then, he picked up his hoe and went back to his acre of land, leaving the old man standing alone in the cold spring breeze, shivering sadly.
In my time, there was a group called poets. They are unruly, wild at heart, saying that they don't eat human fireworks; They sing wine, flatter their wives and cranes, and are free and loose; They are proud of poverty and ashamed of luxury; They have their own habits, manners and slang. I heard a story about a poet who didn't bend his back for five measures of rice. People call him "proud" because he is exhausted by hunger; I have heard a legend that a poet loves to get drunk. He was jealous because he saw that the present emperor described his little wife as completely charming. So he took advantage of the opportunity of the emperor to invite him to drink, let the emperor's most valued brother take off his shoes and let the stunning concubine grind ink for him. People call his drunkenness "the proud prince". In short, at that time, poets were different species from normal people in my eyes. So later I became famous. When someone called me a poet, I suddenly changed my face and called names: "You are a poet, and your whole family is a poet!" " "
Under the pride of the poet as a representation, there is infinite despair and a state of struggling like a trapped animal. Therefore, they are eager for others' approval. They speak loudly and chop the original complete sentences into neat small pieces to show their depth different from the average person. While clamoring for "poverty can't move", it is also lofty and frequent, adding a decadent voice to the decadent life of meat eaters. After begging for a little poor wine money, they overeated and shouted "Maxima is here, Bole is here" and so on. The poet's heart is full of contradictions, confusion and melancholy. Their arrival is a necessity and a mistake made by God.
When I saw this, my father and I were hoeing in our own acre of land. My father is an honest farmer, my grandfather is also an honest farmer, and my father's grandfather is still an honest farmer. So I was born in a poor peasant family in Hong Miao for three generations, and I became an honest peasant, although I thought I was smart. Isn't this a bit of forced prostitution?
I can't remember many details, except that the sun was cursed that day. It is like a fire from hell, like a cold bottomless abyss, like a devil spreading fear everywhere, like a pervasive plague, as terrible as a desire that people can't fill. It wants to hold all this in its arms and watch them smoke in its arms until they turn to dust.
In this demonic light and heat, my father and I are weeding on our own land. Dad is really good. He hasn't rested since morning. This is the fifth time I have stopped. I don't want to move every time The cold water in the pot has already been heated by the hot ground, and the big locust tree in the ground can no longer cover my summer heat. It has long lost its morning strength, and its branches droop feebly when it is disabled. The original green leaves are also like an old man with a terminal illness, and several cicadas sigh feebly on the trunk.
"Hey, hurry home after hoeing!" Father shouted his song again. He has finished hoeing his field and is helping me. I didn't seem to hear what my father said, because I was thinking about the poet. I looked at the white sky, my head was dizzy, and a terrible pulse suddenly gushed from my heart, beating my eardrum and my soul. Then I wiped the sweat from my forehead, waved my hoe, dug up a large piece of white on the big locust tree, grabbed a clay carat and danced on it: "It was noon when weeding, and the sweat dripped down the soil. Who knows that the Chinese food on the plate is hard. "
I wrote a poem. Many years later, I recall that time, and the feeling at that time is still fresh in my memory. Those few minutes were like centuries, and I was completely immersed in the artistic conception and charm of the poem-well, maybe I didn't know what charm was, or the broken poem that later brought me a lot of trouble didn't have any charm at all-I forgot the existence of the outside world, the scorching heat, the fatigue after work and the unfinished land, so that my father didn't even know when he came behind me.
As I said before, my father is an honest farmer, and he belongs to the kind that you don't even know is "one" lying on a pole. But as the saying goes, if you haven't eaten pork, you've always seen pigs run. Although my father has no education, he has read poems and many famous articles. So when he saw the neat four lines I wrote on the trunk, he couldn't help but be surprised. My father has always admired people who can write poems. It never occurred to me that there is one at home now, and this person has to call him dad.
When I wrote my first poem, Wang Anshi was on his high horse in the street of Bianjing.
Wang Anshi
Today's Wang Anshi is not the poor scholar he used to be. As a courtier, the official position is important. He is also full of economy and knowledge, and his talents are overflowing. How many heroes shed tears, how many beauties are heartbroken, and how many wanderers are sad. Unofficial history said: In his early years, Wang Anshi suffered many setbacks and wanted to throw himself into the river. In the face of endless waves, I have deep feelings in my heart, but I said to myself, "My son said in Sichuan that the deceased is like a husband, and I am reluctant to give up day and night ..." Speaking of this, I saw a fisherman singing a fishing song and fishing leisurely, and added, "How much sorrow can you have, just like a river flowing eastward. Although Shi has no talent, he dare not pretend that talented people are well educated, well-read and helpless. Not as good as this fisherman. " I was just about to plunge into the river to settle down, but I heard someone say in my ear, "Linchuan envies fishing, so I might as well go home and make a net." Looking for prestige, it's a fisherman. Wang Anshi saw the old man beaming. Although he is not like a saint, he is very strong. Just as he was about to say hello, the fisherman had rowed away.
Wang Anshi thought about the old man's words and had an epiphany, so he gave up the idea of death and picked up the wolf hair again, including studying hard at the window. He also nicknamed himself "Mr Linchuan" according to the old man's words. Many years later, another spring, Wang Anshi came to the river again. He bathed in the warm spring breeze, remembering the fisherman who left the ship and lamenting that he had been away from home for many years, but he had not achieved fame. He drifted in the vast sea of people like duckweed. I wonder what nights are like in his hometown. Wang Anshi was touched by a heartstring and wrote happily: "Guazhou is separated from Jingkou by a water, and Zhongshan is only separated by several mountains. The spring breeze is green in Jiang Nanan. When will the bright moon shine on me? "
at what is kaifeng today
Because of the capital, the scene of Bianjing is always so prosperous. Hotels and shops are crowded with customers. There are vendors, chivalrous men, and travelers from all corners of the country staying here, pushing cups for a change, discussing major events in the rivers and lakes, talking about parents' shortcomings, talking about poems and songs, and talking about the suffering of lovesickness, each with his own joys and sorrows. There is a daughter-in-law who chooses fashionable cloth jewelry, arguing about the length and bargaining, or rejoicing in buying what she likes, or regretting that she can't buy or sell it; There is a brothel in the casino, and the page powder head is called to stand in front of the door, shouting and posing to attract the children of dissolutes; Jugglers attract passers-by by by various means; A street vendor who sells fresh seasonal fruits or novelty gadgets to passers-by children. At that time, the traffic was heavy and the shoulders were leaning on each other. Another kind is that thieves break in and try to steal other people's property, or flirt with beautiful women for fun.
At this time, Wang Anshi was sitting in the sedan chair and reading many invitations, all of which asked him to sign books or give lectures. Wang Anshi, who sold only fifty coppers for a stack of manuscripts in those days, has now been crowned as the first gifted scholar in the Song Dynasty, and his worth has snowballed. Last month, I tasted a Tang poem in Su Shi's "Bachelor's Forum". A few words made bookstores, large and small, fight for blood everywhere. At one time, Luoyang paper was expensive.
Wang Anshi recalled the wasted years in the past, cherished today's hard-won happy life and looked forward to a bright future. He couldn't help sighing: "Life …" Just as he continued to express his confession, a letter caught his eye.
This letter was written by the head teacher of the primary school. Wang Anshi stroked his beard, and in his mind he recalled the teacher who was wearing a blue gown, slightly hunched, and had a thin face. At that time, he always liked to put his hand behind his back, shook his head and read: "iron is as good as iron, the command is charming, and people are surprised;" The golden basket is dripping upside down, and a thousand cups are not drunk ... "From time to time, he always closes his eyes, leans his head back and leans back." ...
The teacher fully affirmed and sincerely congratulated Wang Anshi on his achievements in recent years. At the same time, it is pointed out that we should make persistent efforts to do better. We should always put the safety of the country and people first, take political reform as an important task, and work hard to build a harmonious society in the Song Dynasty.
Six: Eight Masters in Tang and Song Dynasties;
The eight masters in Tang and Song Dynasties are the general names of the eight masters' prose writers, namely Han Yu and Liu Zongyuan in Tang Dynasty and Ouyang Xiu, Su San (Su Xun, Su Shi and Su Zhe), Wang Anshi and Ceng Gong in Song Dynasty.
Shang rewrite
My name is Fang Zhongyong, and I'm 20 years old. In my childhood, I was flexible and gifted. I was once praised as a child prodigy by the villagers, but now I am a mediocre and incompetent person. I work in the fields with my father and brother every day and live an ordinary life. I'll tell you how I changed from a little genius to a mediocre person.
I was born in a remote mountain village in Jinxi County. My family has been farmers for generations. When I was five years old, I had never seen a writing tool. One day, when I was playing in the field, I suddenly felt like writing, so I cried and begged my father to help me with these things. Dad was surprised at my behavior and borrowed it from my neighbor's house. As soon as I got the pen and ink, I polished the ink on the inkstone, lifted the pen, dipped it in some ink, and wrote four poems on the paper, roughly saying that children should love their parents, and people of the same clan should unite and be friendly and live in harmony. After writing, I signed my name on it. My parents were stunned by my series of actions. They asked me where I learned to write and write poems. It's weird. Still need to learn? I will!
How time flies! 13 years old, talent is not as good as before, but my father still won't let me study.
As a gifted child prodigy, he gradually lost his talent because he didn't study, and became an unknown mediocrity as an adult. I really regret it. I also hate my father a little, because he deprived me of the opportunity to study. But who's to blame now? I still take full responsibility myself.