Ask for 2 300 word excerpts, to describe the text, more practical...

Excerpt from bai's "The End of Youth in a Blink of an Eye" The word du of youth slowly feels unfamiliar, and the year of the DAO wheel is always very easy to brand back to the mark of old age. I thought that the general answer was a long-term thing, but in fact, I was no longer around me in the moment of turning my mind. The person who once loved and missed easily became a stranger who was once familiar.

Once innocent, once beautiful dreams, with the four seasons slowly dissipated ......This is youth, the turn in the years, from one familiar to another strange, and then from strange to familiar, until the curtain of youth gradually ends. In the sweetness and bitterness of youth, the childish fantasy slowly fades.

Excerpted from "There is a Beauty Called Giving Up", the moonlight of Qianmo is full of injuries. The stars in the corners, the enamel paint beside the moon, belong to whose tears. The perfunctory soul floats in the hungry and cold sky, licking the solidified tenderness.

The night is like a dream of red wine, leaning on every inch of the river. The right amount of satisfaction makes the candlelight lose its pursuit. Drunken people, falling tears wet the pillows.

The burned smoke endured the pain until the scar opened. The arc-shaped moon, unable to withstand the touch of a kiss, shattered, and cut the lips. Shedding, how much indifferent begging. ­­

Excerpt: The swallow has gone, and there is a time to come again; The willows are withered, and there is a time when they are green again; The peach blossoms are gone, and there is a time to bloom again. But, wise one, tell me, why are our days gone? - Someone stole them

Who's that? Where is it hidden? They fled on their own

Now it's time again?

I don't know how many days they gave me; But my hands are becoming empty. Silently reckoning, more than eight thousand days have slipped out of my hands; Like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea, my days are dripping in the flow of time, without sound or shadow. I couldn't help but burst into tears.

After reading: Time is silently and silently slipping away from us, what are we doing? What's the catch? When we look back on all this, we can't help but feel a lot of emotion.

I am a child who does not cherish time, but from reading Zhu Ziqing's "Hurry", I realized that only by cherishing every minute and second of time can I become the master of time, not a slave of time. I think I listened carefully during the lesson, so that I could make the most of the 40 minutes of each session. After school, I finish my homework carefully and speed up my movements! I became the master of time.

So from now on, I want to cherish time and be the master of time!

Time is unforgiving, no matter how capable people can't keep time, so, if you want to make your life more exciting, then we can only seize every minute from now on, study hard, don't be a slave of time! When we are old, we will not regret that we have gone in vain in this world.

Life is like tea.

Drinking tea is a state of mind, feeling that the body and mind are purified, filtering out impetuousness, and precipitating deep thought. Tea is a mood, a kind of silence that wants to talk; a kind of sorrow that wants to laugh and laugh; A kind of "a thousand red cups, ten thousand Yan with the kiln" after the excitement of loneliness.

Tea is a collection of spring memories, and when you drink tea in any season, you can feel the lazy sunshine of spring. Sitting in a person's room, pouring a cup of tea, and watching the roll of tea leaves often give birth to a lot of feelings: tea has to be boiled before it has a strong fragrance, and life can only be calm after tempering.

No matter who you are, if you can't stand the warmth and coldness of the world, the ups and downs, I'm afraid you won't be able to taste the fragrance of life. When you look at that tea, when you first rush into the water, you are tumbling back and forth in the water, isn't it like us who are new to the world? Hit walls everywhere and bruises all over his body.

If so, I love to drink tea. Although I still don't dare to call it "taste" and only call it "drink", but I have also gone from only drinking the bitterness of tea to "smelling" the fragrance of tea, and now it has reached the point where it is impossible to go without tea for a day.

The days without tea really feel bland and tasteless.

For me, I like to make a cup of tea on a lonely rainy night, sit alone in front of the window, watch the fallen leaves drift, listen to the rain knock on the window lattice, in the thick tea mist, in the faint fragrance of tea, taste the clear and shallow bitterness, and think about the thick and light ...... of the heart

Gently shake the teacup in your hand, look at the pale green tea or needles or slices, up and down, clustered, ups and downs, changing different positions, trying to find a best balance point for yourself. I was anxious and often couldn't wait for the tea to brew, so I blew the mouth of the cup lightly, driving the rippling tea vortex, watching the tea leaves gather and scatter, helplessly separated. Take a sip of tea, and let the shallow bitterness ripple between the tongue, filling the teeth and throat.

After that, take a deep breath, the lingering fragrance fills your lips, spreading in your lungs, washing away all the tiredness and indifference. People seem to be drunk, hazy, and unwilling to wake up for a long time.

It is night, the tea fragrance is full of room, the tea in the cup changes from light to thick, ups and downs, gathers and scatters, and slowly realizes in the bitter and fragrant fragrance: life is also like tea.

The moonlight is hazy and the stars are shining. It was surprisingly quiet in the evening self-study classroom. The students squatted under their desks, waiting for the arrival of the teacher.

When the head teacher pushed the door open, "Bang! "The whole class is boiling—" I wish Mr. Chen a happy birthday. As he spoke, he surrounded the head teacher who was full of surprise.

A fragrant cake with 39 beating candles and 39 red hearts. Under the flickering candlelight, the teacher's crystal tears, choked with happiness, my heart trembled violently. For three years, she broke her heart for us.

Inadvertently, I caught a glimpse of a few silver strands on the teacher's temples, the traces of time engraved on her face.