laitimes

After the sunset disappears, you can see the stars, and after the sunrise disappears, only the reality under the broad daylight remains

author:Zhiyin
After the sunset disappears, you can see the stars, and after the sunrise disappears, only the reality under the broad daylight remains

I used to think that the characters in the novel were controlled by the author, and that the author would do whatever she wanted her, just as God did to us

Now I know that I am wrong, and this is the difference between an ordinary writer and a literary scholar The process of shaping the literary image has a highest state, in which the characters in the novel have a life in the minds of the writers.

Writers can't control these characters, they can't even predict their next behavior, but they just follow them like voyeurs to observe the most subtle parts of their lives, record them, and become classics

After the sunset disappears, you can see the stars, and after the sunrise disappears, only the reality under the broad daylight remains

It turns out that literary creation is a perverted thing

At least from Shakespeare to Balzac to Tolstoy

The classic images they have created are all born out of the womb of their thoughts, but these literary people have lost this creativity now, and what they produce in their minds is fragmented fragments and freaks, whose short lives are expressed as irrational and obscure spasms

They can only sweep up the fragments and put them in bags, labeling them in the name

After the sunset disappears, you can see the stars, and after the sunrise disappears, only the reality under the broad daylight remains

Classic mood, where to go is not important, people on the road, feel very beautiful

As soon as you know where it is, the world becomes as small as a map, and if you don't know where, you feel that the world is vast

There are only continuous and vast fields on the side of the road, covered with a large area of residual snow, with snow and no snow in the same area, you can't see a little green, but the sun is shining, and for the first time I think that the land without green can also look good

The earth is like a big cow sleeping in the sun, gentle and auspicious

Her long hair fluttered in the evening wind, as if trying to catch the afterglow of the setting sun,

So imaginative