Growing up is a kind of pain, but I don't want it to leave scars; Growth is a kind of transformation, and it takes hardship to break out of the cocoon.
The road to growth is often full of loneliness, so you should learn to cheer for yourself when no one is cheering, without fear or worry.
Growth is like this: sadness and joy, loss and joy, noise and silence.
The road to growth is bumpy and smooth; The road to growth is monotonous and colorful; The road to growth is boring and interesting.
The years of growing up are like running water, coming and going in a hurry. Unconsciously, it is another year of reincarnation.
Everything has its shortcomings. It is these shortcomings that create real perfection, and it is the troubles that make the original colorful growth more beautiful. Growth is a process of bidding farewell to the past, defects and perfection.
Growth is like a cup of tea. It tastes bitter at first, but it can be memorable.
Growth is a vibrant ballad. Go into the field, listen to the sound of jointing, go into the forest wilderness, and listen to all the voices. Agitation and noise, pursuit and struggle, this is the melody of growth, playing a brilliant voice in the ranks of growth.
The pace of growth continues, but we don't look back and don't need to look back. We can only understand the second growth occasionally, so that we can grow up well and live up to these years. Whether it is happiness or trouble, they are all like the nectar of the soul, which has been irrigating my growth and nourishing my nutrition.
Growth is a process of color, floating away bright dresses and pink bows. A school uniform, surrounded by solidified colors, broke the color cover of fairy tale books and saw one textbook with a serious expression. The accumulated textbooks are like mountains, and everything is impetuous and quiet. The beautiful colors of the past have only been dressed up in the dreams of youth.
Chapter two: the melody of childhood
Turn on MP3, and there are bursts of music in my ear. Sip a light tea and turn over an old photo album. I'm sitting at my desk, my thoughts are flying.
Singing away, suddenly looking back, the trickle in the jungle is playing the melody of childhood. The voice is soft and clear. ...
Childhood is a dream. Through the pupil of memory, a blurred picture is presented. The blurred face gradually became clear. Isn't this me when I was a child? There is still a sweet smile on the tender face.
Once, in that spring. Catkins are flying, elm money is falling, tender butterflies and rape petals are dancing in the breeze, and the breeze in late spring is slightly cool, drawing a stick on the lake. At this time, my father and I are on the ridge, holding the thin thread in our hands-the kite is flying higher and higher in the blue sky with the whisper of spring. ...
Once, in that summer. At that time, every night was as cold as water, and fireflies flashed a little green light, reflecting a string of bright stars under the dark night. At this time, I was sitting on grandma's lap, and grandma was sitting in the yard, holding a banana fan and telling me interesting stories about her childhood. Frogs and insects cry from time to time in the rice fields. Listen, I began to chew a happy dream.
Once, in that autumn. The autumn wind is rustling. I like riding a bike and hanging out in the mountains with my friends. The mountain road is paved with bits and pieces of stones, and the road is lined with yellow hay. At this time, we are excited to climb trees, shoot birds and whistle. We will pick unknown flowers and hum nursery rhymes. Until the sun sets, the horizon is a magnificent cloud, like melted watercolor, which permeates the horizon dimly. The orange-red sun is fishing halfway up the mountain, and the curling smoke urges us to go home quickly.
Once, in that winter. Flowers wither and the north wind blows hard. Ten days before the Chinese New Year, machines for making rice cakes were shipped out of the village as usual, and people from door to door happily carried a laundry list of rice to the north of the village, as if to go to the market. It's a family's turn to surround the machine, which is running with white smoke. At this time, the machine mouth at the bottom "spits out" milky white rice cakes. People quickly put out the rice cakes one by one. The air was filled with the thick smell of rice cakes, and grandma immediately stuffed brown sugar into the steaming rice cakes just made. When she squeezed her hand, it became a crescent shape and handed it to me. Just took a big bite, full of fragrance. When the rice cake was ready, my grandfather provoked a full burden, and I happily followed him home. On the way, grandpa greeted people who arrived one after another.
Ah, I woke up, and all the ethereal density has dissipated. What is left is eternal nostalgia and endless aftertaste. Childhood, like a string of melodies, always echoes in the music of our lives.
Chapter 3: Listening to Summer Melody
Gently, spring has gone, just as she came gently, and spring waved gently to welcome the prelude of summer.
Unconsciously, Liu Yeer has grown up, from light green to light green, swinging slender branches gracefully in the wind, like a staff playing in summer life. The winter jasmine faded unconsciously, probably because it felt the fiery heat in the summer sun, but it was this enthusiasm that led to the fiery begonia. Five thin petals and a few golden stamens make up this summer flower, and the summer melody is as simple, unrestrained and strong as this flower.
When the air becomes dull and there is a heat wave on the local surface, the rain brings people a fast pace of summer. Dark clouds surge and accumulate rapidly until they cover the whole sky, and a vivid symphony is about to be staged on the earth.
Accompanied by thunderous thunder and discerning lightning, heavy rain fell from the sky, like a raging storm hitting every corner. At this moment, "pouring" is not enough to describe its ferocity, completely pouring without reservation. As if heaven were venting their anger, rain and thunder met and roared. The road surface soon became a waterway, and the air and the ground became a world of water.
When the rain comes in a hurry, it naturally goes in a hurry. As if the melody of summer is ups and downs, the short and urgent theme takes people to the highest point of life, and then suddenly slides into a beautiful and soft tune. The freshness after the rainstorm is wonderful. It's just that there are rain beads hanging on the tip of the sword, shining in the sun and dazzling. Rain washes the sky and roads, and the wind blows people's cheeks like a gauze, refreshing and soft.
Every leaf shines with the brilliance of life in the sun. Every leaf is playing this summer melody.
Chapter Four: Ideal Melody
Ideal is like a seed, which gradually germinates in the deep heart; Ideal is like a boat, sailing in the river where people grow; Ideal is like a piece of music, playing a melody in the garden of years; Ideal is like a clear spring, which lasts for a long time.
My ideal is to be a writer.
I liked reading some children's books when I was a child. Whenever I see exquisite stickers, interesting stories, exquisite illustrations and exquisite paper in the book, there is always joy and envy in my eyes. At that time I wanted to have a book of my own. So, I said to myself: In the future, I want to be a writer.
When I grow up, if I become a writer. ...
Spring, morning. I will sit quietly on the park bench and greet the first faint sunshine. With the euphemistic songs of birds and the fresh fragrance of flowers, I am intoxicated in this beautiful spring. Gently open the tablet computer, and the inspiration and thoughts of writing flow like a stream. The gentle tapping of the keyboard is like a touching melody, lingering in my ear.
Summer, afternoon. I will lean under the tall buttonwood, humming a tune and enjoying the coolness of the shade. I turned on the computer and began to conceive a story. The wind blew my hair, and I vaguely heard cicada singing in the trees. My fingers are jumping deftly on the keyboard, and everything in summer brings me inspiration and tranquility.
Autumn, noon. Yellow leaves are scattered all over the floor, which is beautiful. I will sit on the old wooden bench on the balcony and create a sad ending of the story. Let the autumn wind outside the window put an end to it.
In winter, at night. Snowflakes drift slowly, very quiet and beautiful. I will sit by the fire and write while warming myself. All kinds of characters in my mind jumped into my works in a hurry, and I felt their ups and downs, joys and sorrows.
Ideal, like flying a kite, makes me try to chase it.
Listen, the ideal pace is getting closer and closer to me. ...
Chapter 5: Melody of melody.
All life is a colorful movement with ups and downs. Some are classical music, even and flat; Have a plenty of pop music, high tide and low tide walk side by side; Have a plenty of pure music, soft, fast and moving.
Elegant and graceful, painting natural scenery. Cicada spent 10 years in the suffocating darkness, restrained her inner impetuousness, cultivated herself, once faded her depression, let her life fly, and raised her voice in the branches. Yes, dormancy is inhibition, and flying is yang; Flowers bloom and fall, flowers bloom and fall; Wings are bound and wings are lifted; Sunset is depressing, sunrise is exciting. In all kinds of first frost days, repression is everywhere, and walking with it is the golden rule of all sentient beings. Suppression, cultivation is "internal strength"; Yang, it shows personality.
Between the ups and downs, taste all the flavors of life. King Wen was arrested and played Zhouyi; Zhong You wrote Spring and Autumn Annals; Qu Yuan's exile is a tribute to Li Sao. Zuo Qiu is blind and has "Mandarin"; The ruler of the revised version of Sun Tzu's Art of War; It's not Shu, but Lu Lan. Han Fei's imprisonment, "predicament" and "indignation" in Qin ... Countless ancient sages told us that suppression is a state of mind, keeping a low profile; Yang is an ideal of explosion and victory. The trough is repression, and the peak is yang; Retreat is suppression, attack is promotion; Silence is repression, and outbreak is yang. Between ups and downs, life is more charming.
Cadence, write all the vicissitudes of history. Self-restraint, advocating simple folk customs, initiated the creation of Xia, tyranny, Shang Tang destroyed Xia and cut Zhou, and became a vassal in Wang Feng. Since the Western Zhou Dynasty, there have been five tyrants in the Spring and Autumn Period, seven chivalrous men in the Warring States Period, and emperors in Qin and Han Dynasties. History is constantly moving forward, with ups and downs, but after the suppression, there must be ups and downs. The general trend of the world, together for a long time, will be divided, divided for a long time, the Three Kingdoms, the Jin and the Southern and Northern Dynasties verified this conclusion. On-off and on-off is actually a kind of inhibition. From the Sui Dynasty to the Qing Dynasty, there were both those who promoted the prosperity of Kaiyuan and those who suppressed the hanging of Yuhuan. It was not only promoted by Zheng He's seven voyages to the Western Seas, but also suppressed by closed doors. History is developing in cadence.
Suppression is for better promotion, which will make us realize the defects and deficiencies, and then try to raise our sails. After promotion, you must exercise restraint. In the process of progress, we will continue to be bound, and then upgrade and improve ourselves. Although no one is perfect, we can do better between ups and downs.
There is no constant suppression and no permanent promotion. An old frontiersman loses his horse—a blessing in disguise. Repression doesn't mean failure. Three thousand more pieces of armor can swallow Wu. Yang doesn't mean success, he was born in sorrow and died in happiness.
Life has ups and downs, and the artistic conception between ups and downs is far-reaching. It is a wonderful life.
Chapter 6: Winter Melody
Unconsciously, winter is coming.
The symbol of winter, the wind, has arrived ahead of time. There are winds in all seasons, and the spring breeze is warm, like a big hand gently stroking the earth; The summer wind is rare and precious, bringing a little coolness to people who sweat like rain; The autumn wind is harsh and ruthless, blowing red leaves like butterflies flying in the wind; And the winter wind, screaming and growling, tells people that winter is coming! "
What has not arrived is the symbol of winter-snow. Snowflakes are like winter elves. They have sown sacred white to convey to people that winter is coming! Now, however, the snow that brings joy to children has not appeared. We can only pray that the snow will come soon and add a vitality to the lonely winter day.
"If catkins don't rise because of the wind," Lu Tao's wisdom deserves our appreciation. He compared the heavy snow to catkins floating in the wind. Walking in the street, the heavy snow falls and falls on the earth, just like putting on "new clothes" for the earth. More beautiful in the sunshine. People walking in the street are covered with snow-white silver on their heads and bodies.
In fact, walking in the street, we can easily feel that it is winter. Looking up, my eyes are hazy gray. Rows of poplar legs have lost their green coats, leaving only bare trunks and branches. It seems that it happened overnight. Look at passers-by, wearing thick down jackets, furry hats, scarves and gloves, all armed and very bloated. Some people keep breathing with their hands, and the white fog is like a small stove, which warms people in winter.
As the last season of the year, winter often reminds people of the coming depression and inadvertently reveals a feeling of listlessness. In fact, although winter lacks the vigor of spring, the vitality of summer and the beauty of autumn, it has its own unique charm. This is a season of saving. It is constantly adjusting, secretly increasing its strength, and preparing to give generate a green hope next spring.
In winter, we should also seize the time and reserve our strength and knowledge to meet the new year and new challenges!
Chapter 7: Love is the most beautiful melody.
Chunlan Qiuju, Xiahe and Dongmei are beautiful flowers endowed by nature. The spring breeze combs the willows and the night rain moistens the flowers, which is the ingenious charm of the creator to moisten youth; Young and immature, pure and brilliant, is a colorful life given to us by our parents.
Our parents gave us bright eyes, sensitive ears and a small nose, so that we could appreciate, listen and smell the world, which is equivalent to our parents giving us the whole world. Then why don't we appreciate and love our parents? Father gave us love as deep as a mountain, and mother gave us love as delicate as running water; Even our friends gave us spring-like happiness.
Maybe some parents are too busy to care about their children during the day, but in the dead of night, the first thing they do when they come home from work is to see you sleeping, tuck you in and burn a good night kiss on your forehead. Who can compare with our parents' care and love for us?
When I get lost, my mother will touch my head with her tender palm; When I am stressed, my father will take me out to play. I always thought I had the best parents in the world, and I did. Everyone's parents are the best and unique.
Maybe sometimes we have trouble with our friends, refuse to apologize and make up for face, and lose a good friend. Losing a friend is equivalent to losing precious wealth, so cherish it to have the purest and most complete love in the world, okay?
In fact, everyone is like a note, and love is the most beautiful melody, interwoven with people, playing a hymn of love, making the world warm and true. In fact, the most beautiful existence in the world is the emotion that everyone yearns for and longs for, and the belief that touches the world.
Parents are the best pronouns of love. Deep, delicate, gentle and great are all contained in these two words. Friends are the most beautiful interpretation of true feelings. Friends who share weal and woe with us will be friends for life and wealth for our life.
Love is a string of true feelings, friendship and warmth, played into a beautiful music. We are notes, life is a song, and love is the most beautiful melody.
Chapter 8: The most touching melody
The gurgling sound of running water, the crisp birdsong, the melodious piano sound and the wonderful singing, but what I like best is the bell for class.
I think the bell in class is beautiful, symbolizing the beginning of a new day's study and life. The bell of class is sacred, which brings us into the world of knowledge. I like its crispness and sweetness.
As soon as the bell rang, the Chinese teacher came in, took us on a classic tour of China and foreign countries, and explained the wonderful words and languages to us, which made us increase our knowledge, broaden our horizons and appreciate the essence of words. The bell in Chinese class has a strong fragrance of books and ink.
Then there is the world of English teachers, which shows us the unique style of foreign languages. Letters are like living elves, patched together into English words, which intoxicated us and made us appreciate the wonderful western culture. The bell of English class has the mystery of foreign culture.
The bell in math class is different. Mathematics exercises our thinking ability, develops our intelligence, makes us more rational, knows how to think comprehensively and appreciates the subtlety of mathematics. The bell in math class has a cool and rational feeling.
History class is our favorite class. The history teacher also spoke wonderfully. We seem to have returned to the past, and we have never missed every historical event. Whether in China or abroad, history always makes me sigh or applaud. From ancient times to today's society, from China to foreign countries, every period of history can bring me different feelings. The bell of history class has a long history, a long time and a sense of the times. The ringing of every class can bring me a unique feeling. In class, my thoughts seemed to be brought to ancient times by the teacher, and I was completely immersed in what the teacher said.
Maybe some people don't like classes and even want to listen to the bell, but I think learning knowledge at school is a happy and meaningful thing. Learning is our life's work, and knowledge is our life's wealth. Now, we have this opportunity to go to the door of knowledge under the guidance of teachers and learn useful knowledge, so we should be grateful. The bell in class is the most touching melody in our life.
Chapter 9: Moving Melody
You wrote the most touching melody in your life with your strength. -inscription
Clouds are the troubles of the sky, drifting without leaving a trace; Ripples are the worries of the pond, which are blown away by the breeze layer by layer, but return to calm; Your heart, Liao Zhi, stems from your love of life and dance.
I saw you shining at the Hunan Satellite TV Dance Forest Conference on the weekend. With a beautiful piece of music, you jumped out of a perfect wheelchair dance, so beautiful! You are wearing an elegant dance skirt and doing all kinds of difficult movements with your graceful dance, which makes me applaud in front of the TV.
I saw you again in the first class. You told us what happened to you. We were moved to tears.
As a dance teacher, you are with the dance you love every day. You have a lovely daughter and a happy home, and your life is really beautiful! However, God played a big joke on you-the merciless earthquake brutally took away your daughter's beautiful life and your beautiful and dexterous legs. ...
I often think, if I were you, would I persist in such a fatal blow? Without your daughter's immature voice, innocent smile and sweet greasy eyes around you, your heart must be as uncomfortable as a knife, right? You were so passionate and even obsessed with dancing that you lost your legs. Your heart must be hard to give up without dancing, right?
However, you bravely defeated yourself, and you stood up tenaciously! God, you stood on the shining stage again with tenacious perseverance, and you won the admiration of everyone. Watching you dance confidently and smiling on the stage, my tears welled up again.
The earthquake caused your greatest misfortune, but you danced the most touching melody for the world.