Xishui

A transparent stream is as clear as a mother's eyes.

In spring, your eyes are gorgeous;

In summer, your eyes are thick green;

In autumn, your eyes are clear;

In winter, you are tired-close your eyes and stop singing.

You breathe in the clouds in the blue sky, the sunset glow at dusk and the stars in the night sky; And left me as a child.

Oh! The rustling sugarcane forest and sweet wind by this stream once blew my childhood dream! I am lying beside you, leaning on my mother's chest, feeling very happy. ...

You are an ancient song in our life-

You see the procession riding donkeys coming, and some suona play funeral music;

You saw several burly men carrying heavy wooden coffins and sending the old man up the hillside;

You heard it too: the unicycle at the foot of the mountain crunched on the barren land. ...

Without you, who will leave us with natural colors;

Who will record the joys and sorrows of the mountain people for us?

Transparent stream, you gave me a pair of eyes that can distinguish colors.

When I am by your side and find myself a teenager, I want to go far.

Send me out of the mountain like you raised my mother!

Appreciate:

At the beginning of the article, the stream is regarded as "mother's eyes", and then the colors revealed in "eyes" in spring, summer, autumn and winter are written. This is not only a song for Xiaoxi, but also a song for my mother, because this brook once "left my childhood figure", which made me enjoy the joy like a mother's love: she remembered everything that happened in the ravine, "the joys and sorrows of the villagers" and sent away the "I" raised. Xiaoxi is a song, mother is a song, and the article itself is also a sad lyric folk song. Stream, my "mother". Mom, it's like this stream. Mom. You watched me grow up and took good care of me. I miss being with you. I feel maternal love! Please forgive me for being naughty when I was a child, and forgive me for being ignorant when I was a child! Now let me make it up to you. I love you, my mother!

Excerpts and Appreciation of Famous American Prose (2)

Keep going

Gegee

Madame Curie walked persistently and finally discovered a wonderful radioactive element-radium; Edison walked with perseverance, and after thousands of experiments, he finally invented the electric light, which brought light to people in the dark. Beethoven and his persistent peers, although deaf in both ears, still created a symphony of destiny; Sima Qian walked with persistent colleagues and dedicated a wonderful historian's swan song to people. ...

Persistent walking can make us firm, let us never give up, and let us reach the other side of success …

On the rugged mountain road, a blind monk who was in a hurry asked an old man the way: "Where is Lothabo Temple?" The old man replied, "Just go over two mountains." Seeing the blind monk resolutely moving forward, the old man couldn't help worrying and asked, "How can the elders cross the mountains and mountains because they are blind?" Without looking back, the blind monk calmly dropped four words: "There is a way in my heart ..."

I'm sure the blind monk will be able to reach the Rosaborg Temple that he yearns for in his heart. His simple sentence "There is a way in my heart" expresses a kind of spirit and a belief in unremitting walking.

Calligrapher Wang Xizhi's calligraphy is unprecedented. And this exquisite word stems from his persistence in his persistent peers, so that the pool that he scrubs every day becomes Mo Chi. His son Wang Xianzhi practiced calligraphy for a few days when he was a teenager, but he showed his mother the copybooks his father had read. However, his mother said in a word, only "a little" like his father's handwriting. In fact, that "a little" was written by his father. Since then, he has devoted himself to following his father's teachings, exhausted several buckets of water at home, and finally became a generation of calligraphy masters. It can be seen that Wang and his son came through with perseverance, and finally the calligraphy was unparalleled.

……

Walking with persistence is doomed to go through storms, but persistence tells us: "Sunshine always comes after storms." Walking with persistence is doomed to face loneliness or bitterness. But insist on telling us: "What's the harm in getting the fragrant rose with thorns all over your body?" Insist on always looking at us with firm eyes: "Come with me and you will get a basket of surprises."

Madame Curie, who walked persistently, told us: "I am willing to explore the unknown elements persistently, which brings me infinite pleasure and surprise." Edison, who walked persistently, said, "I must achieve what I have determined." Even if I fail thousands of times, who can say that I can't see success in that 10 1 time? " Beethoven, who walked persistently, said, "Music is my life, and I am as obsessed with music creation as I am with my own life." Sima Qian, who walked with perseverance, told us: "Because I saw the persistent eyes that my father gave me when he died, my pen for recording history could not stop ..."

Persistence is the perseverance that drops of water and wears away stones. Persistence is Kuafu's never-ending pace of chasing the sun. Persistence is the firm belief of Jingwei in reclaiming land. ...

On the road of life, if we choose a partner, then we should choose to persist. Keep going, just like being with camels in the desert, we will definitely find a beautiful oasis at the end of the vast sand sea.

Appreciate:

Clean work. It can be seen that the author's writing skills are very deep, and this exquisite article is revealed from the author's pen. Maybe the more suffering you experience, the more sweetness you can feel. In this bitter and sweet, we need that persistent connection, persistent struggle for hope, and suffering for hope. What awaits us may be failure or hardship, but we still have youth and we can make a comeback. The flame of life has dyed our sky red.

Excerpts and Appreciation of Famous American Prose (3)

Zhang Xiaofeng

The Story of Time

A pot of rice, put it on the next day, the water vapor will dry a little; On the third day, I was afraid that there was something wrong with the taste; On the fourth day, we can almost find that it has gone bad; If you put it down again, it will be moldy.

What made that pot of rice sour-it's time.

But in Shaoxing, Zhejiang, young parents will bury an altar of rice wine in the cellar if they give birth to a daughter. Seventeen or eighteen years later, when my daughter grew up, this wine became the best wine at her wedding. It has a beautiful name, Nvhong.

What makes ordinary rice into mellow wine-it's also time.

Is time a good magician or an evil magician? Neither. Time is just a simple multiplication, doubling the original value. The rice that has begun to deteriorate is deteriorating day by day; And the wine that began to be mellow continued to add fragrance every minute.

We have also seen that once a naive teenager begins to degenerate, time will turn him into a dusty and disgusting face; On the contrary, time can also add a gentle smile, considerate eyes, mature elegance and wisdom charm to those who pursue kindness. How will time treat you and me? It depends on what we expect of ourselves.

Appreciate:

I remembered a song by Tayu Lo, "Running water takes away time, changes a person's story, and waits for the first time in that sentimental youth". The faint sadness and feelings in the lyrics always make me cry. Zhang Xiaofeng's articles are more rational and steady. What does time really change? Not the essence. It is not good that becomes bad, nor is it bad that becomes good. It's just an accumulation, a process from quantitative change to qualitative change.

So, stop complaining about time, and don't always say that time has changed everything. Time hasn't changed anything, just let something increase or decrease with time. Therefore, if we want time to finally brew mature and fragrant wine, we must add beauty, wisdom and tolerance to it.

I like this philosophical writing, which makes me think and have endless aftertaste.

Excerpts and Appreciation of Famous American Prose (4)

Xi Murong's Youth at the Window

Youth is sometimes very short and sometimes very long. I know very well, because I am as young as you. In front of the classroom window, I used to stare at the campus where the four seasons have not changed, just like you, wondering about my future destiny. I used to think that, like you, either way, it would be much better than sitting in the classroom.

At that time, I wondered why the teacher never interfered and let me dream one lesson at a time.

Today, I know that he, like me today, smiled and reread the youth we experienced over and over again from our young and full faces.

Appreciate:

I like Xi Murong's ci. I always like to read her again and again at dusk, indulging in the romance between the lines and the aestheticism between the lines. I was moved by her attitude towards life, by her eyes that found beauty everywhere, and by the pen in her hand that could write a trickle and draw a flowing water.

And this song "Youth by the Window" fascinates me with the profession of teachers. I think people who can be with children will always be young. I took over the students from one session to another, watched the childish faces mature, and then started the next round of sailing.

Young time is too thin, the fingers of youth are too wide, and too many years will flow away inadvertently. Let those who have walked out of the classroom walk out of the time of sitting in the classroom, re-enter the classroom and enter a different teacher life. Then, we sat at the window of the classroom with the children and fantasized about the outside world. These daydreams give us dreams and the beauty of youth.

Excerpts and Appreciation of Famous American Prose (5)

autumn rain

Zhang ailing

Rain, like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaves a soft net and nets the whole autumn world. The world is dark, like the roof of an old house covered with cobwebs. The pile of gray clouds in the sky is like white powder peeling off the roof.

Under the cover of this old roof, everything looks extremely dull. The green pomegranates, mulberry trees and vines in the garden only represent the prosperity of the past summer, but now they have become the remains of ancient Roman architecture, shivering in the rustling rain and recalling the glorious past. The color of grass has turned into melancholy yellow, and fresh flowers can no longer be found underground; The delicate daffodils planted outside the dormitory wall hung their heads with tears in their eyes and lamented their poor luck there. Only after two sunny days, they met such a moldy and steaming rainy day. Only the sweet-scented osmanthus in the corner, the branches have been decorated with several precious buds as gold, carefully hidden under the green oval leaves, revealing a little hope of new life germination.

It's raining quietly, only the thin sound of rain. The orange-red house, like an old monk in a bright cassock, was baptized by the rain with his head down and his eyes closed. The wet red brick exudes irritating pig blood, which is in sharp contrast with the green laurel leaves under the wall. Gray toad, jumping in the damp and moldy soil; Under the gloomy net of autumn rain, it is the only thing full of joy and life. The pattern of gray spots on its back corresponds to the dim sky in the distance, resulting in a harmonious tone.

Rain, like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaves a soft web and nets the whole autumn world.

Appreciate:

Sometimes I don't like Zhang Ailing's writing so much. Just like this autumn rain, others will write a warm breath, but she writes in a dark and gloomy way. The brush strokes alone make people feel cold and chilling.

But perhaps this is the charm of Zhang Ailing's writing, flashy and dark, but so real, which has detected the deepest part of people's hearts. This article is meticulous with a pen, and only uses metaphors and personification to write autumn rain vividly, with a dull and lonely color. ? In this article, full of gray, melancholy, gloomy and sparse, a meaningless funny life, the only glimmer of hope is the low osmanthus tree that nobody cares about.

When writing this article, it is said that she was only 15 years old. I don't know why she understands it so deeply, and I don't know what kind of truth she is, and she can't get out of her inner haze. However, her writing is so brilliant, gorgeous, vivid and exquisite that only China's writing can fully express it.