Who will help me write an essay with deep meaning Junior high school students do have to contain phi

There was a blind boy who was good at playing the piano and drums, and a scholar in the neighborhood came to him and asked, "How old are you?"

Finish? The boy said, "I'm 15 years old." "When did you go blind?" "When I was 3 years old. "Then you're 12 years blind

It's been a year, and it's dark all day long, I don't know the sun, moon, mountains and rivers and the form of human society, I don't know the beauty and ugliness of my face and the beauty of the scenery.

Isn't it too pathetic? The blind boy smiled and said, "You only know that the blind are blind, but you don't know the unblind."

In fact, most of them are blind. Although I can't see with my eyes, my limbs and body are free. I'll know by listening to the voice.

Whoever it is, you will know right or wrong by listening to the talk. I can also estimate the condition of the road to adjust the speed of my pace, and there is very little danger of falling.

Narrow pass. I put my heart and soul into what I do best, and I don't waste my energy on boring things.

Feeling. Over time, I got used to it, and I no longer felt the pain of not being able to see with my eyes. But some people today though.

They have eyes, but they are dizzy, and they are very eager to see ugly things, and they cannot distinguish between the wise and the stupid, and they cannot distinguish between the evil and the right.

I don't know the reason for the explanation, the rule and the chaos, but the poems and books are put in front of me but I think about them all day long, and I can't understand the gist of them. There are others.

perversely, misbehaving, not sober after falling, and finally falling into the net. Don't these people have eyes? Those who open.

Isn't the one who wanders around in the dark blind too? They are actually more pathetic and lamentable, than I, who is biologically blind.

Yikes! The scholar was speechless.

Fable: This story reveals such a philosophy of life: physical blindness is certainly lamentable, but psychological "blindness" is even more acceptable.

Sad. Blindness is a major flaw, but if you focus on what you are good at, you can make a big difference.

The achievements have come and I have realized the profound truth of life. And if you live in a drowsy life, or even do anything wrong and perversely, even if.

With bright eyes and well-developed limbs, it is also a kind of "blind and humanoid beast" that does not understand human nature.

There is such a voice.

Autumn slipped in on a foggy dawn, the morning sun was warm and quiet, warm and gentle, and the blue sky was elegant, quiet and warm. I stumbled through the photo album and saw you, my grandfather. On the broken inch**, your serious expression is painted.

You never laugh, and the rest of the world just barely squeezes out, which is unnatural. ** You feel at ease. Perhaps you once lived a life of peace and bliss; Maybe you've gone out for morning exercise with the same dew; Perhaps you once carried a small cloth bag and bargained in the market.

But, in my memory, you're a sick person, you almost only do that one action, you only say that one word.

At that time, I was still ignorant and didn't know how to respect you who were seriously ill. Every time I go back to my grandmother's house, I just feel a little uncomfortable about the deserted, narrow building. Pushing open the door, I already knew that you were wearing cotton long sleeves, sitting on the peeling stool facing the door, looking at me kindly, and saying slowly

Kiki, here it is! Perhaps I had heard it too much, and I began to resent it, so I responded with indifference. You watched me enter the room and turned your head to stare out the window again.

Why are your eyes so melancholy? Outside the window, there is already a prosperous scene. The sparse leaves on the tree were dry like dry leaves.

The first one that fell, maybe just one or two, like one or two golden butterflies with broken souls. But then, there were loud golden red showers. Could it be that you sympathize with that tree?

In fact, you are reminiscing about the days of fighting for your homeland, and you see things very calmly. So you're not like other grandfathers who carry their school bags, cook for me, and tell me stories. In my mind, you can say the words that greet me except sitting on a stool and looking out the window.

I didn't think it was something to be cherished. Until that day, you, are gone. At that time, I was already sensible, I already knew the word respect, I already knew what cherishing was, and what was eternal parting.

You left in a hurry, leaving me without a word. I didn't even see you for the last time. Hearing the news of your passing, my heart suddenly felt a heart-rending pain, like a knife, hatefully cutting an irreparable scar on my heart.

I didn't cry, but my silence was more sad and sad than the sadness that turned into tears! It's still the same autumn, walking on the same road, pushing open the door. The same stool, the same view, except that you're gone.

Your sentence: "Kiki, you're here!" "It's gone.

Everything has changed ......

Until I met you in a dream. I didn't dare to open the door because I was afraid, I was afraid that I would feel guilty when I saw you, and I would cry bitterly. I plucked up my courage, and slowly, the door creaked.

I looked up. I saw you, sat down on the little stool with a smile, and said slowly, "Kiki, you're here!"

The glare of the sun pulled back my ethereal thoughts. I wiped away my tears. Closed the album and said silently: "Well, I'm here!" ”

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.