On the blue surface of the Volga River, orange-red ships are upstream, and golden leaves are slowly drifting downstream.

I am so afraid of my grandfather that I always feel that his green eyes are staring at me.

Music is full of sadness, like a river running down the mountain, stirring in the room.

People often hear their songs and stop to look at them from the window. The upturned face reminds me of dirty dishes that haven't been washed yet.

Before she came, I seemed to sleep in the dark, but as soon as she appeared, she woke me up, took me to a bright place, and connected everything around with a continuous county town to weave colorful lace. She immediately became my lifelong friend, the closest person, and the most familiar and precious person I know. It is her selfless love for the world that enriches me and fills me with great power.

In people's minds, joy and sadness are almost intertwined, alternating with each other at an unpredictable and puzzling speed.

When I was young, I imagined myself as a beehive. All kinds of ordinary rough people, like bees, send the knowledge and thoughts of life into the hive. They tried their best to enrich my mind generously. This kind of bee is often dirty and bitter, but as long as it is knowledge, it is honey.

Night has come, a powerful, fresh and caring thing like a loving mother, like a hug, silence is like a warm and furry hand gently caressing, brushing away everything that should be forgotten in memory and all the fine dust that eroded people during the day.

A few days after my mother was buried, my grandfather said to me, "Hey, Lacey, you are not a medal. You can't always hang it around my neck. This is not your place. Go to the earth to make a living ... "

So, I went to the earth.

In the gloomy autumn, I can't see the sun, feel the warmth of the sun, and even forget the existence of the sun-in this autumn, I lost my way in the Woods more than once. When you are far away from the road, exhausted and unable to find the path, you have to tread the muddy road, step over the thorns and step on the uneven mound and go straight ahead. In this way, you can always walk on the wide road in the end!

So, I made a decision. This autumn, I'm going to Kazan, hoping I can go to college there.

On the blue surface of the Volga River, orange-red ships are upstream, and golden leaves are slowly drifting downstream.

In singing, grandma sometimes advances, sometimes retreats, sometimes flies, and youth instantly returns to her, making her present a kind of flower-like beauty. Everyone was attracted by her.

Tzgang blushed and walked into the middle of the kitchen, jumping like a flame: his hands were raised high, his steps were indistinguishable, his shirt trembled and shone like a flame. He danced wildly, as if he could jump all over the city by opening the door and letting him out! In the long empty and boring years, fighting is a holiday, but fire can be fun; Scars can also add luster to a dull and expressionless face.

"Wake up, everyone will die. What is this? Isn't that bird dying, too? "

The shadow of the lamp is no longer swaying, and the moonlight is clearly printed on the floor, which looks so bleak and peaceful.

Wide and straight road, your width is given by God with axe and shovel, but why do you only have the sound of hooves and dust flying?

The sun shone obliquely on the table, and two long-necked bottles containing Gowasu wine and vodka flashed dark green.

It's dazzling outside. My bird is playing in the cage, and the yellow bird, the gray bird and the goldfinch are singing.

Autumn rain, autumn wind, swaying branches, cold and wet outside, but warm as spring inside, everyone sat next to each other, and the atmosphere was harmonious. Everyone was infected by him and trembled with him.

From then on, I looked at people with anxiety, as if the skin on my heart had been torn off, so this heart became unbearable sensitive to all humiliation and pain, whether it was my own or others'.

Everyone just has his name, and the rights are the same for everyone.

Officials are like naughty children who break the law as soon as they come up.

In the endless work calendar, sadness is also a program, making a fire is fun, and even scars are an ornament on a face with nothing. ...

Hate is a piece of ice, which melts when heated.

Her series of "afterlife" seems to me to be a ladder, leaving her and extending deeply down to a dark place and a lonely place.

Don't worry about adults! Adults don't study well; God is testing them. You haven't been tested. You should live according to your children's ideas. Wait for God to open your heart, tell you what to do and show you the way to go. You got it? As for who made what mistake-it's none of your business. It is up to God to judge and punish. He's in charge, not us!