Excerpts from good sentences plus imitation plus feelings, excerpts from sentences and imitations

Bingxin's reading is good, good reading, reading good books.

1. Example sentence: Hope is a colorful palette. Imitation: Hope is a star that never falls.

2. Example sentence: Books are ladders that can climb the peak of knowledge. Imitation: Books are torches that guide the way forward.

3. Example sentence: The sun is speechless, but it radiates brilliance. Imitation: The mountains are speechless, but they reflect the majesty.

4. Example sentence: Mother's love is a clear spring, so that your emotions are still pure and clear even if they are covered with the dust of the years. Imitation: Mother's love is like a breeze, so that your body and mind can experience the crispness of autumn even in the hot summer.

5. Example sentence: The tail of a mouse is like a line. Imitation: The swallow's tail resembles a pair of scissors.

The excerpts and imitations of the sentences are as follows:

I liken autumn to a fairy in a golden dress, her fluttering sleeves brushing away the scorching heat of the sun and spreading brightness and freshness to the earth; She used her wide clothes to block the wind and cold, but she held the heavy fruit and dedicated it to the world.

I liken spring to a little girl with a colorful palette, whose colorful oil paint erases the pallor of winter and gives green and hope to the world; She used the brush in her hand to bring the breeze, and sent the golden sun to shine on the earth.

Blow it! Blowing red rhododendrons, blowing green willow silk, blowing willow leaves whispering: as if telling a strange myth, whispering a song of love and sorrow; Blow, blow awake the people who are still sleeping!

Blow it! Blowing the blue sky, blowing the yellow leaves, blowing the leaves of Wu Suide dancing: as if dancing a mysterious dance, in a prayer of life and death; Blow it, blow the ripe fruit that is still sleeping!

The heart is a tree, the roots of love and hope are rooted in the soil, and the branches and leaves of wisdom and emotion are spread out under the blue sky. Whether it is the wind and rain of the years, or the rolling dust covering the green leaves, it always stands there silently and waits, and accepts everything that comes, neither arrogant nor humble.

The heart is a river, the source of purity and sincerity flows from the mountains, and the flowing water of maturity and wisdom rushes into the sea. Whether it is the vicissitudes of history that change the river, or the scorching sun that has dried up the gurgling water, it always calmly travels on the road to the distance, and accepts all dangers, neither nostalgia nor anxiety.

Hundreds of bees buzzed under the flowers, and butterflies of all sizes flew around. Wildflowers are everywhere: miscellaneous, named, nameless, scattered in the grass, like eyes, like stars, and blinking.

Under the trees, the peasants and uncles were busy harvesting, and the cheerful laughter reached the horizon. Chrysanthemums also come to join in the fun: blooming in the fields, growing in the garden, huge, petite, like rushing to an autumn date, full of interest.

Such an afternoon full of white flowers always feels familiar, and always feels that it is an aggregation that can be put into any kind of time and space. It can be put into the Book of Poetry, it can be put into Chu Ci, it can be put into classicism, and it can also be put into the pen end of late impressionism - in any beautiful record of human beings, there should be such an afternoon, such a season of early summer.