600 words excerpt for middle school students, 600 words for junior high school American abstract

The following is a 600-word article on the abstract copy of junior high school American literature compiled by Kao.com, I hope you can like it! For more junior high school essay resources, please search the junior high school essay channel to share with you!

The night is as quiet as water, the rain is dripping, the rain that drifts into the eaves stains the title page of youth, the wind follows my sleepiness, hits my dreams, blows away the word youth, and fragments are presented in the morning dawn of waking up.

Time is too thin, fingers are too wide, it always slips between my fingers inadvertently, trying to reach out and hold it, but it is only air that grabs. On the vine-covered wall of youth, slowly climbing, looking back, are scattered notes, groaned by memory, and swept up by the wind. The sky is high and the clouds are light, only a few wisps of feather-white silk clouds, swimming in the sky, stuffing the precipitation of youth into the gaps of time, time rolls up all the beauty that is too pure, but it is as plain as boiled water.

The geese that have gone in autumn streak across the sky, and a bright sadness cuts through the air, like the tearing of silk, and the hearts of those who listen to it tremble. Youth travels with the wild geese, looking down at us who look up and don't know what youth is, flying far and wide, but we are indifferent. When wandering on the swaying tail of youth, I want to catch it but can't catch it, and when I pull it hard, it is scattered notes, fragmentary, occasionally flashing through the lonely sky, floating in the endless sky.

When the fireworks bloom in the middle of the night, after blooming their own warmth, only a few twinkling residual stars are left for us to think deeply. When the cold wind of the deep winter tears your youth hard, all the past is shaken out of the gap in time, transformed into sprinkled petals, floating out of memory like butterflies, touching down notes, bursts of fragrance lingering on the stave, but the melody has stopped abruptly in a second. Wandering in the past time and space, opening the book that carries all our youth, heavy, wet your eyes, falling tears fall into the river of time, and there are no ripples in the past.

God gave us a pure white piece of paper, and the chain smile let us return to the decoration with beautiful slag; With hunger and vitality, sublimation with sincerity, and care for with true feelings, every stroke on the painting has become eternal, branded into your history, and cannot be repeated. When the white paper is densely filled with the notes we have drawn, and then composed with the hands of time, the melody of youth is intertwined with joy and sorrow, and the notes that cannot be rewritten tremble in the middle.

When the memory hits your ruined youth, the sky overflows with sweet and sour rain, smile, face it with a smile, every second that passes is precious. You will take the trouble to stop and watch, but time will not wait for you, it has already left you to continue to run forward vigorously, when you are done, there is another scenery around you.

In the blink of an eye, a second passed, a scattered note.

It's the season of grass and yellow again. The green patches all over the field disappeared, only that.

Like chess, the world is like a game, who plays, who is chess.

Talking and laughing, the face is still the same, but the scenery is no longer what it used to be. Looking back, my head is dripping, my eyes are sad, and the days of coming and going like flying are a pity. All of a sudden, watching the autumn geese back and forth, I don't know how old I am! Empty two lines of rain on the river.

Forget yourself this summer, don't say goodbye. Spring flowers and autumn moons are always pleasant, summer rain and winter snow are dust. There is no banquet that will not be dispersed, and there will be no gathering that will not be dispersed. Silently, far from each other, there is a separation. Suddenly, I was only looking back.

Forget yourself this summer, don't say sad. This is one of these things, throughout the ages, very few people have seen through it, and I can't see through it. In the year of the crown, there will always be many fantasies, many expectations, and many persistences.

This period is also a sad year, how many people are decadent, how many people are confused, and how many people are sad. So there is emotional wounding. Suddenly, but only in the past.

Forget yourself this summer, don't say sentimental. Thinking about the past, right and wrong overlap, right and wrong, right and wrong, gain and loss coexist. There are very few left, and there are only a handful of those left, and what is obtained is a little bit of it. So there is sentimentality. Suddenly, but only in the past.

Look down on the world, look at each other at a loss, forget yourself this summer, and don't say anything sad.

This is my favorite American text

Sleep with books.

Friend, do you like to read? Books shorten the distance of time and shorten the interval between regions; Book 62616964757a686964616fe58685e5aeb931333433623234, so that you can travel thousands of mountains and rivers, and have a bird's eye view of ancient and modern China; Books will accompany you on the journey of your ideals, and your life will be full of sunshine and hope.

Yes, "books are the ladder of human progress". Life without books is like the earth without the sun; Wisdom without books is like a bird without wings.

I love to read. Before going to bed, I always like to lie at the head of the bed, pull out a book, and flip through it in the light. I once followed Lu Xun's ink to listen to the shout; He once accompanied the distant sound to search for the fragments of civilization.

Books are the ship of thought, breaking the waves in the waves of the times. What books give us is not pure knowledge, nor fleeting excitement, but the self-confidence of survival, the necessary intelligence and courage to be a human being, and awaken our hearts and make people respect the dignity of life.

Reading "How Steel is Made", I got to know an indomitable hero - Paul. Kochakin. I felt like I saw that exciting scene.

Countless Soviet youths, carrying this book, shouted "For the Motherland, forward!" "Bravely rushed to the mad fascist invaders, blood stained the reckless snowfield. I finally got it:

Life belongs to everyone, although only once, but only if it is dedicated to the most magnificent cause of mankind - the cause of communism, that kind of life is meaningful.

In the tender dialogue between Tagore's gardener and the birds, I felt the mellow of life; In the sound of oars on the Qinhuai River under the lamp, I faintly recognized my father's old foreshadow; Under the little orange lamp on a cold night, I saw the selflessness of innocence and maternal love: in the sea emptied by the turbid waves, I understood the old man's unyielding struggle against the sea!

Youth into the painting, see the scenery of life fluttering. Under the lamp, listen to the sound of success, share the joy of life, feel the bitterness of failure, and understand the true meaning of life. Books have not only given me an opportunity to read beautiful articles, but also given us the joy of reading and the true knowledge of life.

When you are lonely, books are good friends; When you are depressed, books are open windows; When depressed, books are bright sunshine; When it's cold, books are a ...... of flamesWe had a spiritual exchange with the characters in the book, and we were influenced by truth, goodness and beauty.

It's nice to have a life with books! Good book, my forever friend!

Rated work will definitely have to complete task after task because you have time! So you can't do it.