Asking for a good foreign essay name ended on 2010 12 14 at 22 o clock

Which road is not bumpy? Which big river doesn't have whirlpools? What family doesn't have a hard scripture to read?

One painter said, "I always want to take my paintings to the next level, and then to the next level, but I often struggle with no breakthroughs." Ever since I was associated with art, it was as if I had been crossed and destined for an inexhaustible original sin.

In the eyes of ordinary people, the achievements of the painter are already very enviable, but the painter himself is so heavy. In fact, there is no shortage of such people around us, when they used to live in poverty and material poverty, people seemed optimistic, but today, when the material life has undergone earth-shaking changes, what about people's spiritual world? I think each of us should ask ourselves.

I have seen such a person, he is angry outside, and when he comes home, he sulks, so that he can't eat sweetly, he can't sleep at night, he seems to be haunted by evil spirits, and sometimes he even takes his wife and children out of anger, and the result is that one person is angry, and the whole family suffers. Maybe he is really wronged, maybe the other party is really excessive, but can you solve the problem by sulking at home alone? Do people know?

Maybe people are munching on a delicious meal right now? Maybe people are snoring and sleeping at the moment? Say, "Why are you in trouble?"

Isn't there a saying that to be angry is to punish yourself for the mistakes of others? You even have a wife and children, what a loss.

The smell of sunshine is the taste of happiness.

The realm of sunshine is the realm of Buddhahood. Whether you like it or not, the sun is here, not dirty or clean. Whether you like it or not, the sunshine is here, not increasing or decreasing. Whether you scold her or curse her, she is silently dedicated. You.

Whether she hates her or insults her, she just gives it quietly.

Because of her dedication, never remember to lose, we only.

When it's a habit. Because she gives, never cares if you want it or not.

We just think of it as nature. So, our parents are our parents, Buddhas, that's it.

Our parents have loved and compassionate us all their lives, and we often only take it as it should be, naturally, and we get used to it, and even a little numb.

What is Compassion? Sunshine is. What is Buddha?

Sunshine is. She is always unabandoned, silently, everywhere, all the time.

The starlight fades into the silence of the night, and the moon is beautiful and the moonlight is dreamy of whose reflection. The green grass that slides in the wind is magical to whose mind. The song of dark burning and resentment, who is playing the piano of the soul, don't say that the night does not understand your sorrow, in fact, you do not understand the depth of the night.

The sun is falling, fairies under the white clouds! Let that gentle picture become the most beautiful in the world! The light and shadow by the trees are swaying, and love follows each other.

The moon is accompanied by the starry night, and the glue moonlight is bright and pleasant. Even the wind blowing in the face is cool and casual, and the moon shadow in such a beautiful night sky talks to the stars. Romance is rotten with raindrops ticking and rustling.

The brisk and beautiful warmth warmed the loneliness of the lonely shadow. The window is dripping with water, the streaks are silky and soft, the wind is scattered, the time is skimmed, the shuttle is competing for the moon, and the language is lonely.

The sea is a mystical goddess, and the mermaid is her darling.

One day, I will be able to live with a slender woman, and the best place must be by the sea - the sun is warm, a simple wooden house, two deck chairs, and the sea is far away. The sea is a warm and kind mother, and the rivers go east to the sea, soft and broad.

Today, the sun was very strong, I went to the East Campus to make up for classes, and when I crossed the overpass on Jianshe Road, I suddenly found Xu An with his head down and following me closely. "Do you need my help?

I turned around and asked him. "No, thank you. I just like to walk in the shade when the sun doesn't shine. He said politely.

As I walked on, he ran away, and as I turned the corner, I heard him and a group of boys laughing. Later, I found out that they were a group of boys playing truth or dare, and whoever lost came to taunt me.

When I came down from the overpass, my tears also fell, I was not sad that Xu An ridiculed me, I was sad why I drank water and grew meat.

When will the wind of the years be able to put the two.

Parallel lines rolled together, round my heart.

A long-awaited wish. I don't expect it to be forever, either.

I don't want to get along day and night, I only have one small wish, as long as I have you.

I like spring, I like the peach blossoms outside the bamboo of Su Shi, the delicacy of the plumbing duck prophet of the spring river, I like the joy of the peach blossoms in the mountain temple in April, and I like the flowers to fade and the red and green apricots are small, and when the swallows come, the green water is fresh.

I like summer, I like Yang Wanli's little lotus to show sharp corners, and there are dragonflies standing on their heads.

If you can't turn a page in the past, don't turn it, and if you turn over the dust, you will lose your eyes. Some people can't say where.

It's good, but no one can replace it! Those who used to say that they would never be separated have long since been scattered to the ends of the earth.

Pack up your mood and keep walking, miss the flowers, you will receive.

Get the rain, miss this one,

The Buddha said, "I love you." I am a lotus seed in front of the Buddha.

You are a boy in front of the Buddha, where are the lotus seeds you left behind?

Square? You look for no shadow, sigh on the other side alone, I am light.

Light rafting, on the banks of the Red Dust River, swept up in dust, painful growth.

In the vast and boundless world, the frost flowers in all shapes bloom in all shapes, as if bringing people into the fairy tale of frozen, on the branches, the silver frost flowers hanging on the window ridge are in different forms, thousands of postures, lifelike like relief-like magical scenes, it has become a fairy tale paradise in my childhood.

No regrets. Those who work hard.

Peasant uncle, did you know that you don't?

It gave me a steady stream of courage.

A song passes through the sky above the city, like a stream passing through happiness, passing by a faint sadness. There is a kind of joy, which is the accumulation of the bottom of the heart, like the moonlight emitted under the moonlight. There is a kind of prose, which is the first birdsong in the morning, and it turns out that the birdsong and the fragrance of flowers have always been warm.

Her figure confuses the world, a moving song and dance, a beautiful dance! I love gentle voices! It's beautiful!

In the sixties, his young father followed his nephew, who was two years older than him, to teach in a neighboring county in the mountains, and because he could not bear the torture of hunger and loneliness, he returned to the village to become a village teacher, a job he held for 40 years. Although my father, who is now nearly 80 years old, has retired, the teacher's life experience is deeply engraved in his daily life.

There is a rare tree in the garden, and the flowers bloom under the green leaves of the tree, which is particularly vibrant.

Spring has sprung. I climbed the branches and broke off the most beautiful bunch of trees and flowers, and wanted to give them to my relatives who missed them day and night.

The scent of flowers permeated the placket and sleeves of my shirt.

It's a long way off.

Baby Anne says that there is always a need for one.

Something warm, even a little self-righteous.

Commemorate. Yes, as long as you follow the sunshine, the year will pass.

The wind and rain come and go, people come and go, no matter what.

Whether it is dusty or collected, it will become the most beautiful scenery.

Time is a wonderful existence, it makes those things that you once used to be forgotten and forgotten in the slow passage of time.

I always feel that there is lovesickness hidden in poems and flowers, such as that sentence, how poetic it is to see flowers and lovesickness all my life, and the most beautiful thing in the world is to lower my eyebrows and turn tactfully, and suddenly there are people who think.

It's hard to find such an article in a sea of books. I just know that Jin Yong's "Porcelain Goose" is such a short story that is very similar to what you said**, of course, Jin Yong is not a foreign writer.

With all due respect, in fact, I always remember what kind of book I read many years ago, what kind of flower, and my impression is always as if I have been deified, so if I have read it before, I don't have to look for it, it must be different from the impression, and I may be disappointed.

Also, I'm suspicious that this is Tolstoy's early work, but that's really hard to find. Because the most famous is the later works. In fact, if we talk about fraternity, Tolstoy is.

But his language is generally plain and simple, so it should not be poetry. I'm not quite sure about the prose either.

If it is a poem, a prose poem, a short prose. It's really possible that it was Tagore, however.

I'm really hard to say for sure. Be as helpful as you can. Actually, it's a pity, I have a lot of books, I have to read a lot, and I have to experience this kind of regret, and it is always difficult to find things in the past.

I guess it's a super slave master!