Stone blossom prose, write classic essays on stones

The classic prose that writes about stones is as follows:

I often look along the banks of the river, and a person wanders quietly, blankly, looking at the stones in the river. The waves crashed endlessly against the stones, and each wave was broken into foam by the stones, scattering ....... The stone has been eroded by the waves, but it still stands in the rush of the river, smiling and facing the waves.

The river is singing, just like the yellow warbler chirping; The stones are silent, just as the sky strikes a flock of flying eagles. White clouds float lazily in the sky, occasionally projected in the river.

The stones bathe quietly in the soft waves. The river flows on its body, it will always love the river, willing to guard the river, and guard the heart that the river covers.

I gazed at the rivers and the stones for a long time, and let my soul go to the depths, to my childhood. As a child, I had an impermanent temperament, sometimes laughing passionately, sometimes crying in tears, I had tranquility and madness. My life is not eternal, how can Sakura have eternal simplicity and transparency.

I will be mature, I will be simple, resolute, deep, strong, ......I will move from the transparency and purity of the river to the multifaceted and uneven stones of the stones. The waves are sweeter and more wonderful than all the cheerful notes, harmonious, elegant and excitingI can't describe the flow of its music. I have walked into the depths of your soul countless times, and I have listened to the most beautiful music in the world countless times.

Stone is a strong man, a strong man who has come from history, who has read all the spring in the world and experienced the vicissitudes of life.

Each stone records an untold story, and each stone has the courage and strength to bear the sun and the moon, resist the need for thunder, storms, and torrents. Give every river, every stone, a warm name. Let him be an eternity for a moment.

Life is like a stone, a stubborn stone.

He was originally part of a cliff, but because of the movement of the earth, he broke away from his mother and became a stubborn stone, a stubborn stone. He fell high in the air, he was scared, calm, elated, excited, and then he looked at the things that passed him. He smiled, smiling brightly.

His freefall campaign ended. He jumped into the water in a near-perfect position, no splashes, a perfect dive. He looked through the very clear water to see the cool sun, and although he could no longer see the sparkling waves on the water, he was still happy.

He playfully played with the fish, and he "giggled" as the fish tickled his armpits with their little tails.

Maybe the torrent upstream would take him farther away, and he was bruised by the rapids, and he wanted to go further. But in the end, the rapids didn't take him with them and threw him the shore. Half in the sun, half in water, he was tormented, and he was afraid that he would disappear like this.

Later, he was picked up by a little boy and placed next to a pot of daisies. He looked at the little daisies, golden, thin, dense petals; Look at the little daisy, soft, stretched, charming figure. He thought, he's in love with little daisies.

He plans to always guard the little daisy and live a happy and stable life.

Come over for a long, long time, little daisy thanks. All that was left in the small pot were the daisy-green stems and stones. The August typhoon came, and the typhoon blew the windows "wow, wow", and the vibrations of the windows were too great.

So much so that the small flower pot was knocked over, and the small flower pot was stopped by the burglar-proof window, but the stone fell through the gap in the burglar-proof window.

Because of Mother Earth's special physique, he had to be in close contact with Mother Earth again. And just like that, he was forgotten in a corner. Because of the rain, he put on a green fur coat.

So he looks less like a stone and more like dirt. Under the acidification of the rain and moss, he gradually became soft, loose and sticky. He was thinner than sand, so he had a lot of fun.

They all followed the wind, went on a trip, he went to many places, and finally landed on that high cliff.

Perhaps, thousands of years, tens of thousands of years, he will become a stone again.

A stone, standing alone on the mountain path. The sun flows quietly on the stones, and the sunset burns quietly on the stones. What else can you read?

Perhaps, there is a small bug wriggling on it, and the little snail, crawling slowly. Oh, and the occasional bird perched by the passerby.

The wandering wind, blowing through the stone; The pouring rain hit the stone. There's always a limit to what is visible. The length and size of the size can be measured before the light and heavy shirts.

Imagination, on the other hand, can fly boundlessly. See, in my imagination of the world, there are foolish flowers blooming on the stones, the fragrance is permeating, and there are countless little elves dancing on them.

And you stand on it, as if standing in the middle of a large field of sunflowers, smiling ......

Today, when I finished reading "The Stone Will Bloom", I was deeply moved.

Fang Yan was rejected by many schools because of her congenital intellectual disability, and it was not until she was 12 years old that she met the enthusiastic teacher Zhao and became a first-grade student in that rural primary school.

In one class, Mr. Zhao asked the dialect to make a sentence with belief, but the dialect made a ridiculous sentence: I believe that stones will bloom. When the classmates heard this, they all called the dialect a fool.

But Mr. Zhao said that the sentences made in dialects are the best. A month later, Mr. Zhao brought a stone full of holes to show the students, and they were stunned that a small flower bloomed on the stone. The dialect smiled happily, as bright as a flower.

She confidently spent her innocent elementary school years.

Teacher Zhao knows that the middle cavity is a stone, as long as it is strong, it will also bloom on the stone. It's the same with people, as long as you work hard, even if you are as hard as a stone and can't absorb any nutrients, you can still bloom.

Mr. Zhao went all the way to ask someone to get that piece of volcanic rock, in order to be able to write two words on the heart of the dialect - self-confidence, so that this stone can be strong and bloom the most beautiful flower!