Ten articles with both literary quality and beauty are needed, and articles with both literary quali

Wutong Zhang Xiaofeng.

Actually, I have never seen a really tall and ancient sycamore tree.

Perhaps because I had never seen it, its figure seemed taller and taller in my heart. Sometimes, when I open the window and look at the lush trees of the mountains, my eyes begin to look for a completely different plane tree in the greenery, but it is not there.

Imagine that it should grow in the cold shade of the mountain, looking at the blue sky alone, and trying to rub the white clouds with its branches. Not far from it, there is the sound of a mountain spring, like the sound of a piano. Gradually, those sounds are embedded in its growth rings, making the sycamore wood the most perfect wood.

I have never heard of the guqin made by Wutong, and in fact there is no longer a pair of hands to play the qin in our time. But in my imagination, the ethereal and ethereal rhyme still came from an unknowable direction, and whispered back in the valley of my dreams.

I always think of the self-metaphor of the phoenix bird (Wan Bird) (刍bird) that Zhuangzi quoted, "Fu (Wan Bird) (刍bird), which originated in the South China Sea and flew in the North Sea. If you don't stop at the sycamore, you don't eat if you don't practice, and you don't drink if you don't drink from the spring."

I can't help but be excited at the thought of the golden-feathered phoenix bird perched on the tall plane tree. Of course, I haven't seen it either, but I love it deeply, and I love it for its nobility that is not more than a sycamore, and that it is not afraid of the troubled times.

But where is the sycamore that I can perch on?

It must exist, I think—though I have not yet found it, but whenever my eyes search the overlapping mountains outside the window, I am convinced with great certainty that it must be hidden in some clammy shade. In the lonely years, in the thirsty waiting, listening to the strings of the spring.

The essays of Xue Xiaozen, Ye Tingcheng, Zhang Lijun and others are all such articles.

Introduction? Jiangnan Shore Silver Wing Hunter Harry Potter's Guardian Born Noble Platinum Glory Thousands of Mountains See the Sunset Drunk Qingqiu (Qing Wear BL) Hunter - Flower Qingyuan These books are all good.

Therefore, I would like to go to the Old Summer Palace in the early winter of each year, not for anything else, but to go to the lotus pond there to see the lotus flowers at this time.

It is true that the beauty of the green leaves of the lotus flower is incomparable, and its shallow and deep green leaves are condensed with a little dew, and under the sunlight, it is like a few pearls rolling on a transparent jadeite.

Is this the time when a pond of lotus flowers is at its most beautiful? The famous phrase "the infinite blue of the lotus leaves" has been sung countless times, and it is true that at first I thought that this was the most beautiful time for lotus flowers, but now I feel that maybe this is not the case.

It is true that the beauty of the red flower of the lotus is well-known, it is pink, faint, literary, elegant, as if it is always fifteen or sixteen years old, whether in the bright sun or in the light breeze and drizzle, it is on the shore and hidden in the water those mysterious and unpredictable shadows, will make people fascinated.

Is this the time when a pond of lotus flowers is at its most beautiful? Of course, I used to think that the red lotus was the most beautiful time, but now I don't think so.

Since the green leaves are not the most beautiful, and the safflower is not the most beautiful, when is the lotus flower the most beautiful?

It was more than 10 years ago in October, and I went to the Old Summer Palace alone, trying to find the remnants of autumn there, but when I wandered on the stone bank of the lotus pond where I could not find a single green leaf or red flower, I was struck by another scene that suddenly appeared in front of me: a pool of residual lotus in the midst of the black and white water shadows that reflected the wonderful pattern of the broken stone pillars of the Old Summer Palace. Some of its dead stems still stand tall, while others have broken off in the water; Some of its leaves have long been torn by the autumn wind, and some are curled into black balls, but they are still hanging high in the air; The fruits of its fruits, the lotus pods that were once emerald green or golden, some of which have turned black but are still held high in the air, some of which have been torn by the wind and rain, and which have fallen in piles in the water, still hold on to their roots.

Seeing this scene, seeing the reflection of the broken pillars of the Old Summer Palace, there are many magical and mysterious squares, triangles, circles, and diamonds composed of residual lotuses, and I suddenly feel that I have entered a magical world of lotuses.

Leave the remnants to listen to the sound of the rain"? No, that's not how I felt at all. I feel that the lotus flowers in this pond have not withered or died, and the broken stems and stumps that are full of pond water are completely the highest sublimation of the pool of turquoise and bright red.

From the various mysterious patterns composed of their broken branches and lotus pods poured into the pond, you can find a kind of beauty, you can find the vulgar beauty that is not red, red, green and green, you can find the kind of mediocre beauty that does not cater to the season, you can find the kind of self-confidence and solitude hidden in the broken and withered that is not discovered by others, and the kind of noble poignancy that is full of incomparable self-confidence that has been displayed until the end of life.