Composition, come on, master, the beginning is like this

The Taste of Reading" - Essay Help Write the Beginning:

Books are the ladder of human progress and the source of wisdom! That's what we all know. Some people say that reading is painful, some say that reading is salty and sour, and some say that reading is sweet. What is it like to read a book depends on what kind of mentality you use to look at it.

If you look at it with a heavy psychology, it's like carrying a big burden, and you will feel bitter;

If you look at it with an optimistic attitude, you will feel that it is sweet!

In the past four years of studying, I have looked at it with a calm and motivated attitude, so the taste of my reading is five fierce hunger bottles, sweet and sour, bitter and spicy, everything.

Modern urbanites, floating in the sea of online information, are convenient and economical, but the feeling of having a book in hand is not to be Kaikai. Reading paragraph by paragraph, page by page, is very different from browsing and searching on the Internet. Reading, as a feeling of reading, is not only touchable, but also tasteful.

No leaf in the world is exactly the same, but it can be uniquely beautiful. There are two different colors of flowers blooming on a tree, some people are happy with the white and pure beauty of pomegranate flowers, and some people are amazed by the beauty of peach blossoms. The body is different from beauty, but it is the same.

The same wonderful, different light. There are beautiful talks in ancient times, the text is similar to Lin, and the martial arts are incorruptible. One has achieved the ultimate in literature, and the other has achieved the pinnacle of martial arts.

With the same time, their lives are as shining and wonderful, but they exude different lights in different fields. Lin Xiangru convinces people with literature, Lian Po uses martial arts, and a warm jade exudes a soft but shining light. A resolute as iron with a cold but not piercing gaze.

What a wonderful life they had. How similar. Two different lights, wonderful to the extreme, become similar.

Poetry moves me.

Poetry moves me.

I like poetry because it's profound and has a long history, and I prefer to read poetry because it moves me.

Whenever I stand in the sea of poetry and suck its essence, how I long for this moment to stay and take me into that kind of pride, that kind of grace!

I appreciate the pride and ambition, like Su Shi's "old man chatting about juvenile madness", "drunken and bold is still open", like Cao Cao's "old man is in the woods, aiming for thousands of miles" for the great ambition of unifying the whole country.

I appreciate the sadness of "small bridges and flowing water", "ancient road west wind and thin horses", and appreciate the grievances of "people are thinner than yellow flowers", although they will not be "temporarily accompanied by the moon and shadows", but they will "raise a glass to eliminate sorrow and sorrow"!

I love to be sentimental for the country! Although there is no Du Fu's bearing of "feeling the flowers splashing tears, hating other birds", and there is no Wen Tianxiang's loyalty of "no one has died in life since ancient times, leaving Dan to take care of the sweat"! But I will "think about the country and the family." ”

I like to travel around the forest sea, so I know the Tengwang Pavilion of "Luoxia and the lonely bird fly together, and the autumn water grows together in the sky", and I appreciated the Yellow Crane Tower of "the lonely sail is far away and the blue sky is exhausted, but I can see the Yangtze River skyline", and I have seen the "white sun is at the end of the mountain, and the Yellow River flows into the sea".

Because of the poem, I fell in love with autumn, so as to understand the meaning of "I say that autumn is better than spring", and at the same time I was frightened by Du Fu's thatched cottage "August Autumn High Angry Horn", but "the scenery is different in autumn" made me feel more relieved and calm.

Because of poetry, I fell in love with summer and liked "the lotus flowers are different red"; I am fascinated by spring, "a red apricot out of the wall"; I prefer winter, "suddenly like a night of spring breeze, thousands of trees plow flowers." ”

Some people say that poetry is dead, I tell him "you don't understand poetry", people who really understand poetry will say that poetry is alive, it is like "living water for a source", with a source, there is love. The poem is hazy again, and "how many buildings are in the smoke and rain" is its image.

It is precisely because of poetry that my life has color, and my tears have flowed because of this, in which I have seen the state of mind of the ancients, and I have read the rise and fall of dynasties!

Moved by poetry, reading poetry is reading yourself! In the sea of poetry, I was moved by my state of mind and moved by myself.

Saving time, that is, making a person's limited life more effective, and it is equivalent to prolonging the life of a person.

Lu Xun learned to cherish said so much, it may create an impression, life is in so we should learn to cherish the world to have something that really belongs to us is not so easy to take time as the theme, Zhu Ziqing wrote "Hurry", I like all kinds of sounds of nature, but in the hustle and bustle of the city, I can only hear the sound of cars whistling by, the noisy sound of construction machinery, it is so instantaneous, people can't think of words such as "beautiful, elegant".

The birdsong I like is almost nowhere to be heard, but fortunately there are only a few sparrows that can bring me a little comfort in my soul, the cheerful and melancholy call, the lovely figure dancing on the branches, and the graceful gesture of spreading its wings through the air, like a movie, attracting me to savor it. But it all came to an abrupt end, and with the joyful howl of hurt and plunder, a few gray feathers fell lightly, and it struggled, it struggled in the boy's hand, and the miserable cry stung me, and I could not bear such a blow, why even the last of the life that nature had given me was mercilessly taken away.

I longed for the sound of the clashing leaves, like a moonlight song played by a pianist, but it also seemed to be slowly swallowed up by the noise of the city, and God was so unfair that he left us only an accompaniment, which can only be heard sporadically when we are on campus. I happened to hear that an old man was looking after a large camphor forest and wanted to go and see it. But within a few days, the news channel broadcast the sad news of the destruction of the woods, and looking at the sawn down trees on TV, I felt a heart-wrenching pain, and a group of lives were destroyed.

Every time it's like this, when appreciating the sound, the beautiful sound stops abruptly in the destruction of people, and the sound of nature that I hope for should be found in **?

God is so unfair, the birdsong I love is so miserably, the rustle of the leaves I love is swallowed up by the roar of the chainsaw.

It's actually very simple, why not write it yourself with your talent?

Answer, study hard, and make progress every day.