The jade bridge is ruined, the willows are green, and the buds of the trees want to bloom, and they want to report the spring.
The east wind sends paper kites, the birds call dead wood, and the spring is full of joy, and he is making trouble in the branches.
Sometimes I always tell myself that in fact, I don't care about the passage of time, but I don't know why I left my mind, just quietly walked by. Who would like the smell of ink, who would have guessed my past, and understand that no matter how persistent the mind is, it is irretrievable to lose,
Maybe I can only... Listen quietly to your breathing pen, ink and paper, poetic. Just escape from the beautiful words, ethereal mood, in fact, a few more frivolous, sideways window glass, can not see themselves, deliberately lost. A dead tree, a wasteland, a few shades of red, through the window screen, but it is an illusion. Staying here, or leaving the ancient rhyme sounded, I still moved my heart.
The years have slipped silently, and suddenly looking back, those past bits and pieces have disappeared like smoke, falling flowers, and drifting with the water. Occasionally, one day, we bow our heads and sit in meditation, and fragments of those memories appear in our minds from time to time. Peeling back the fragments of memory, there is ignorance, there is innocence, laughter, resentment, sorrow. The pictures are recombined, the memories are re-converged, only to find that the life of those years is like a letter pen graffiti, natural, random. And now, breaking free from the embrace of our parents, we have just spread our wings, and later life should be like a sculptor's carving knife, carefully and carefully carving a perfect work of art; it should be like an engineer, starting from the blueprint to achieve a building.
Sometimes, we are always looking for where the meaning of life is, but the meaning of life is here: we carefully and carefully complete a work of art; we pick up a paintbrush, start from the blueprint, and complete a building brick by stone. At work, we are down-to-earth, fully engrossed, single-minded, worthy of work, worthy of our own hearts, so that work is no longer a burden, but a source of happiness; in our leisure time, we hold up the paintbrush and wave it wildly; listen to a piece of light music and wash our hearts; quietly breathe the air under the shade of the morning; we are a group of people, chasing the wind, letting the willows brush our cheeks, and the laughter jumps into the air; in the afternoon full of sunshine, we climb the mountain peak and shout freely. At this time, what reason do you have to complain about the emptiness, monotony, and boredom of life?
After entering the society, I found that many people were complaining, complaining that life was boring and boring, and the work was not satisfactory. In fact, I don't know that all this is caused by himself or herself. Instead of complaining, why not get up, do a good job, enjoy life, and make life more fulfilling? Life is like plasticine, it is either a pile of mud or a work of art depending on how you handle it. So, in order for us to sit in a rocking chair when the sun sets, looking back, every step is full of meaning, each step is tough and powerful, rather than lamenting the age of the knife in addition to carving a deep and shallow canyon on our faces. We should now grasp the plasticine of life, let every shape become a work of art, and let every trajectory of life write a meaningful chapter.
Yes, one day you will curl up long hair and work hard in the workplace, encounter anything without complaining, do not say that people are right and wrong, put a smile on your lips all day long, learn to appreciate each of your colleagues, learn to be grateful for their kindness to you; one day you will find yourself, know how to be the best of yourself is the most beautiful; one day you will find that you are no longer alive, but enjoy life.
Life is sometimes like water, like flowers, sometimes like chess, also like tea...
In the face of life, maybe laugh, maybe sentimental. In the face of life's joys and sorrows, yin and yang, we no longer choose silence, but turn grief into strength to continue to move forward.
A begonia flower is sleepless, and it is in the early hours of the morning, which can't help but make Kawabata Yasunari realize the beauty of life. A small thing, even a detail, can fulfill your success and fame, and will also make you like Mathilde, full of the hardships of life. Those with serious circumstances even lost their lives.
Life varies from person to person. If you are an optimist, you will always live in happiness. Well, you will say how bright the flowers are, how blue the sky is, and how difficult it has become a fitness machine. On the other hand, if you are an extremely pessimistic person, life in your eyes is like a dry leaf, boring and boring.
Listening is a blessing. Learn to listen to the happiness that others share with you, and the value of that happiness will double. Open your heart, let go of the devil in your heart, and be sincere with people, and let the angels stay in your heart forever.
Learn to be tolerant and let suffering turn into laughter. When picking up an autumn leaf, please do not sigh - it is the proud son of the mother, it has completed a leap. Against the sun, you can clearly see its veins.
Learn to appreciate life, it is the best gift God has given us. From it, we can get our unexpected surprises. Such as friendship, love. Thank you for every moment of happiness that life brings us, and remember that moment may become an unforgettable memory.
There are no less passers-by in life, and we learn to cherish the time we have spent together, because we have walked through difficult years together. It doesn't matter if you go through your life silently, or if you are poor or rich, what is important is that you have a peaceful life. Cherish the bits and pieces of life, and be grateful for the people who bring you happiness and suffering.
Life is plasticine, but also a cup of tea, there is bitterness, there is sweetness, it depends on how you taste.
Life is the kind of spring in the eyes, ten miles of breeze, wild hope, green on the shore of Jiangnan, dream full of trees and flowers.
Life is the summer that burns in the heart, the sun is shining brightly for several months, the mountains and rivers are bright, the lotus flowers are red, and the warblers and cicadas are on fire.
Life is the autumn in your hand, a clear cloud, a harvest of mountains, golden rice, drunk in the courtyard.
Life is the winter hidden in the soul, the twilight snow of a thousand mountains is spotless, the red dust is purified, and it has become jade and ice.
Life is the song of the four seasons that is chanted in the mouth, and the spring, summer, autumn and winter are endless, and the pace of progress is fast, and it plays a unique sound of life.
Green willows lined both sides of the river, light boats swaying small bridge west. Guess the lamp fans, look closely at the Mandarin Duck small characters. In the coming year, the scenery of Jiangnan is still the same, and the figures of green shirts and red buns are rare.
Peach blossom rain, scattered no one path. Red walls embroidered with green tiles, silver moon illuminating hibiscus. There are no doubts about the pace. Lotus and ti, birds fly twice, a lifetime who can agree with whom.
Coming and going, I became the master of the caravanserai, exchanging horses for the messengers, but I could only accompany the horses myself; we became the boatmen of the river, crossed the passengers, and returned to the dock of the mooring. Once I had the opportunity to stay in Beijing, but I gave up, the big city is good, can put aside the travel of relatives, no matter how beautiful it is, it is wandering. Can drift, can wander, can fly... But you can never fly away from the dust under your feet. There is a place we can never leave. For me, I always belong to Gangnam. One day you will find that you are no longer alive, but enjoying life.