Ten essays should be written about the scenes, and the things in the text should be related to junio

Prose can be divided into two categories, broad and narrow.

In a broad sense, prose is a literary genre alongside **, drama, and poetry (that is, in addition to these three types of works, the others are prose).

Prose in a narrow sense only refers to modern and contemporary narrative prose and lyrical prose, and basically excludes reportage, general narrative, expository essays and discussions, speeches, press releases, classical Chinese and other works.

The most striking feature of prose is that it is "scattered and distracted", and it prefers to use first-person narration (of course, not absolutely), which is easy to recognize (** is relatively long and likes to use third-person narration, poetry and drama are more recognizable).

The more important essays in junior high school texts are (based on the content of my middle school years, I don't know how much the work has changed now, but the basic articles should not change much):

Zhu Ziqing's "Spring", "Back", "Hurry".

Lao She's "Winter in Jinan" and "Little Sparrow".

Zheng Zhenduo's "Cat".

Yang Shuo's "Lychee Honey".

Wei Wei's "Who is the cutest person".

Lu Xun's "From the Hundred Herb Garden to the Three Flavors Study" and "Mr. Fujino".

Wu Boxiao's "Remembering a Spinning Wheel" and "Vegetable Garden Notes".

Of course, there are many more to list, and these are just the more important ones.

I think this article is better.

Silent bliss.

Happiness is a clear spring, an oasis, a selfless dedication, and a blessing of life to life.

When the leaves were gone, I planted a corn seed in the cold soil. As I dug the pit and prepared to put the seeds in, my father said, "If you plant now, you won't sprout, so let's wait until spring to plant again!"

I ignored it and stubbornly put the seeds in and covered them with dirt. Under my father's helpless gaze, I stood up and stomped on the soft dirt.

Does everyone else sow seeds in the spring? Why should I be like them? Has anyone ever tried to plant a seed in a secluded place on a late autumn afternoon?

The land that has been lively in spring and summer may be very lonely at this time! Wouldn't it be better to plant a seed and keep it company?

People are always looking forward to giving and asking, and they must ask for something in return when they give, and they attach too much importance to the joy of reaping a good harvest after sowing, and ignore the mood at the moment of sowing. The earth needs a seed to be planted in its body, and it belongs only to itself. I know – because I'm lonely too.

It's just, who understands me? After walking a long way, I turned back and found my father still standing in the same place, dumbfounded. I knew that my attitude had hurt my father deeply, but he didn't blame him.

I just want to deliberately forget, forget yesterday, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, forget myself, forget everything!

Soon after the winter, I had forgotten the seed of Confucius that I had stubbornly buried. Until the green of spring crept up the branches and my father urged me to water it. Watering?

I was confused. Dad smiled and said, "Didn't you plant a seed last fall?"

It's time to water. "I finally remembered that scene in late autumn.

Suddenly, one day my dad told me that the seed had sprouted! I didn't react to my father's words. Dad pulled me out the door, and I followed him, lazily moving. After standing still, I really saw a young green seedling smiling at me in the wind.

I wanted to smile, but my eyes finally didn't hold back the boiling tears. Looking at my dad beside me, I cried, completely cried.

At that moment, I realized that I was not alone!

At that moment, I understood what happiness is!

However, he didn't know that the seed was broken from boiled corn and could not have germinated!

True happiness is just that, the deeper it is, the more silent it becomes. Every corner of heaven and earth conveys the message of happiness, which makes us realize: a happy world is so good!

Happiness in ordinary life.

I finally like the ordinary life, no need for luxurious decorations, just warm and simple.

At the end of school, I cycled through a sea of people. Living in such a bizarre city, what I see every day is the cold concrete forest and the lonely people hurrying through it, like fish in the deep sea, even if they are side by side, they are expressionless, as if they are covered with an invulnerable shell, along with their faces, but their hearts are fragile and abnormal.

Second, yesterday I dreamed of the scene of children running and dancing on the ridges hand in hand in the movie clip, they grew up so happily, they were always tanned by the sun, and then ran home sweating profusely, they were always noisy and noisy with each other, laughing, caring and taking care of each other, even if the stomach digested the red beans and old pumpkin, they also thrived.

There was a lot of noise in the three houses, but to me it was the same as no one. I always had a strange feeling that sometimes I would suddenly feel empty in a crowd. When you are alone, you take it for granted, and you are afraid of loneliness but you are used to loneliness.

Parents will never find the look of panic on our faces because of loneliness. But in fact, whenever our parents close their doors and leave, we are so eager that they will stay. What if you stay?

It's nothing more than the noisy sounds of life. But we need these voices so greedily that it makes us feel warm and feel real life.

Fourth, this is a house in the area of the old city, and it is the kind of house that can see wooden beams and green tiles. Today I walked again. I heard the creaking of someone coming down the wooden stairs.

I saw the faint, warm light of a very small light bulb controlled by a pull switch. A lively gala in a dozen inch black-and-white televisions.

When I closed my eyes, I seemed to see the children's favorite sugar gourd vendor humming a little song on a clear day, and I seemed to hear the cries of "green vegetables, turnips, and cabbage", and the voices of adults training children ......Only here will there be so much real breath of life, as long as you listen quietly, one will not feel lonely.

5. Today I am writing with a pencil from my childhood, and I write the words very lightly, because I am afraid that they will fade prematurely, but it is very profound, because this is a "2h" pen with a hard lead core. That's how it should be. We walk each day authentically, plain and profound, without extravagant decorations, and we are just as happy and beautiful.

Happiness is in ordinary life.