In study, work and even life, when it comes to prose, surely everyone is familiar with it? In a narrow sense, prose refers to a literary genre that goes hand in hand with poetry, novel and drama. What kind of prose is really good prose? The following is a beautiful article carefully arranged by Bian Xiao. Welcome everyone to learn from it. I hope it helps you.
Beautiful prose 1
Autumn rain always comes so suddenly, with a slight chill of water droplets, dyeing the lotus pond that was once green and white. The rain scattered all over the sky seems to be paying homage to something, and the faint sadness is scattered in a little-known corner with the autumn wind.
In my eyes, autumn is doomed to be sad; A decadent, parting melancholy is accompanied by a faint lonely figure, which renders the last loneliness in late autumn. Sitting alone at my desk, letting the autumn rain wet the curtains by the window, I remembered the scene when I fought with her.
Forget it, go to sleep! Tomorrow is another day. In the midsummer of that year, the lotus was purple-red, the lotus leaf was blue and the lake was warm. She swam around the lotus pond with a small boat. Facing the warm wind, enjoying the sunshine and enjoying the beautiful scenery: sitting and talking about the Three Kingdoms, Song and Ming Dynasties, poetry and philosophy. Sometimes picking lotus flowers at your fingertips, sometimes drinking a cup of fragrant tea, sometimes playing with water to scare fish, and sometimes smiling at each other.
Good times always pass by inadvertently, until the tea is cold, but she is quietly lost in the lotus reflecting the sunshine. At that time, it was getting late, and it was the moment when the sun was setting and the sun was shining; The orange twilight sprinkled on the clear water, awakened the fish who got up late, jumped out of the shadow of the lake from time to time and splashed. Against the setting sun, these two people look like fishermen who died at sunset in Dongting Lake. Looking at each other, I couldn't help laughing, and the voice spread far and far until the end.
A cold wind swept over and accidentally knocked over the embroidery hanging on the wall.
The low sound of heavy objects falling to the ground also awakened those who were immersed in past memories. The picture in front of me is no longer the scene of that summer, and the stories of the past are scattered under this sky after all. Friendship, love, affection; How painful, or happy memories! However, it can only be embedded in your own life, and you can't catch it or let it go.
Violet, safflower, white lotus root, sunset glow, twilight, warm wind, boat, fragrant tea, clever smile, warmth and happiness; The magnificent scenery of the past, like the Abang Palace in the history books, was burned by the fire of fate, leaving only a few vicissitudes. Pontoon bridge, withered lotus, fallen leaves, autumn rain, cold wind, dark clouds and lonely shadows, these are echoes and become the last sound.
Autumn rain is still underground; Look, tonight, it seems very cold; But no one will hug me gently and whisper: it's cold, remember to close the window when you sleep.
I got up and picked up the fallen embroidery, wiped off the dust that didn't exist on it with my sleeve, gently put it back, and said softly: I once loved someone, although she is no longer with me, I still love her; Because that's my dream.
The night is getting deeper and deeper, and I am hiding in a thick quilt, but I still feel a little cold;
Beautiful prose ii
Autumn is cool and idle, leaves are exhausted, autumn night is afraid of rain, and the clouds are rolling, looking forward to autumn. I have a hazy lunch break, listening to the rustling sound outside the window, like a cotton worm swallowing an old mulberry leaf, suddenly dreaming, and seeing a pile of old memories when I was a child, I was floating down my pajamas.
Looking west, a Shayi River is covered with green. There are reeds wrapped in lotus clothes at the high bottom, and water gulls catch red fish in the shadows; Whispering softly, the wind is hidden, Bai Lianhua sees red lotus, only watching dragonflies thread, busy with a pool of wrinkles; Frogs sit on lotus leaves, gossip red and green, laugh and spit out their tongues, and get rid of vulgar mood; Suddenly, the wind blows, frogs drill grass mud, and Bai Ou leaps. There are clouds and clouds, just like Lei Gong drumming, flashing jade and pipa playing rain.
Opposite the Xihe River, the old saying of the old city. There is a rammed earth wall, more than three feet high. The old appearance still exists, and the city gate has been gone for a long time. When the walls are dug up by wind and rain, collapses can be seen everywhere, such as dogs eating the moon, sculptures with broken limbs, tears and candles, stalactites in caves, axe chopping in Huashan Mountain, pine branches on cliffs and ups and downs in mountains. It can be seen that the invasion is still there, and it is really unstoppable. The former site of the city wall stands tall and looks up, humiliating the old days; Recalling that year, the Five Warriors committed the crime of anti-Japanese grave robbery, and their minds were filled with the sadness of a city, the enlightenment of a city's milk language, and the clank of a wall.
Donggang, the ladder and clothes embrace each other, and the river channel is winding. In spring, peach blossoms look, white cotton meets white clouds, the breeze blows, like snow, petals overflow, and the spring breeze is ten miles; In summer, piles of green, clusters of shade, the old man sitting idle watching sheep, the wind blowing the full moon pipa; Autumn, red leaves are exhausted, jujube rolls, bottom wow, water is still, flute flowers catch herring, white stone place, village girl, laughing smoke; In winter, it's white, and I'm so happy to see Kunlun Mountain.
When I wake up from my dream, I will send a cold coat in autumn. Reading old books, the wick is not old, and I don't feel sad when I fall asleep in my later years. Only the Tao, when I was young, my old dreams were difficult to round, and on the bumpy road, the dust was not stained; Life is a pot of sake and a joke. old bones and Mei Zhi are sitting on the snow lotus. Laugh, complain, sigh and regret, it is better to cook a dream, watch lanterns, meditate and rest in a dream.
Beautiful prose 3
Put down your work, it's dark outside the window. Go home. Time to go home.
I'm afraid to walk at night. It was dark and gloomy. If there is wind, I will feel my feet behind me. I walked this road several times when I was a child, and I was shocked every time I came home. However, the family still has to go back.
Out of school, I took a quiet and dark road. It won't be dark if you go further. I don't know when the street lamp was installed here, but I only saw the dim light on the road, which eliminated some panic and fear and added some confusion and confusion. People can see clearly ahead, but they don't seem to see clearly, not as clearly as during the day.
Winter is not like summer. It was late at night and the road was quiet. Plus, it's vast and sparsely populated here, and it's even more quiet and terrible. A person walks quietly, just walks quietly, regardless of the long shadow. What about you? Why didn't you call? Did you post the letter? I didn't see it. Take out your mobile phone, it's empty, no. Keep walking. Why got so quiet. There are no birds chirping and no insects chirping. Oh, no way, little fool. It's winter. Winter? Why is there no one? There are no cats and dogs, and occasionally a car gallops by, which seems to be in a hurry. Cell phone is still inactive. No, I feel depressed every time I see it. A car sped by and stopped, and there was a loud drink in my ear. Call me? Turn around, take a look, then turn around quickly, and your heart begins to beat faster. Can't be a bad guy! I can't help speeding up my steps. What should I do if I meet the bad guys? What about you? Where is it? You said you would protect me. Forty minutes' journey, already halfway. Yeah, it's okay. Keep walking.
The road is dark and quiet, and there seems to be a little vague beauty. This vague beauty began to enliven my thinking. You and I, talking about fate, believe in fate, are crazy by this fate, still happy and flattered. "Smile with joy" Haha, why is the pace of jumping for joy not lonely? Home, your phone hasn't come yet!
The night is still long and gentle, but I walk firmly and move forward, touching the fourth clear and beautiful essay step by step.
Some people joke in three ways: the first is to laugh at others. The second is self-mockery. The third is to laugh at everything in the world.
The first kind of laughter is the least desirable. Laughing because of others' failures, embarrassments and setbacks, in the final analysis, is to build your happiness on others' pain. Mean and shameful. Of course, such people will inevitably be laughed at. Sadly, the people who laugh at him are not kind people. This kind of cycle can really be used as "how can a word be vulgar at this time?"
In contrast, people who laugh at themselves are elegant. They are guarding the leisure of "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence and seeing Nanshan leisurely", and guarding the purity of "emerging mud without dyeing, shaking ripples without demon". When they are proud, until I raise my glass, I ask the moon. When they are frustrated, they send out boats and laugh at themselves and life. Regard fame and fortune as a god horse, honor and disgrace as floating clouds, but it happened that fame will last forever.
The third kind of smile, the towering green hills, the surging rivers, the insects singing and the birds flying, is the most authentic and pure smile in the world, and it is also the most infectious smile. Legend has it that a monk with good words has this kind of smile. Wherever he went, he never spoke, but smiled at mountains, water, people and things. At first, people just regarded him as a monster, and then laughed with him, so wherever he went, the laughter spread. Until the monk died, he and the people around him were still laughing. He smiled and told people that after he died, he didn't need to clean himself or change clothes, because there was no pollution from his heart to his body. People obeyed his wishes and put him directly on the firewood pile. When they lit the firewood, there was firecrackers in the firelight, which made people laugh. At this time, everyone realized that the monk wanted to leave the laughter in the world and let more people laugh.
Among all sentient beings, maybe we are just ordinary people. It's easy to laugh at others, but it hurts a lot and will inevitably hurt yourself in the end. It's hard to laugh at yourself, but it can keep you from losing yourself between depression and pride. And all you need for everything in the world is a heart. A still beating heart.
Beautiful Prose Chapter 5
Man is controlled by desire, and man is a slave to desire. Man is the product of desire, and life is the continuation of desire. Life and death are fundamental, and desire is the first. Desire fills our hearts from birth, because we all firmly believe that we are extraordinary and we will change the world. Don't say that you have no desire, but desire has always occupied your heart.
Krishnamurti, a great Indian philosopher and spiritual mentor in the 20th century, said, "If you don't understand desire, you will never be free from shackles and fears. If you destroy your desires, you may also destroy your life. If you distort it and suppress it, you may destroy extraordinary beauty. "
Desire can make us succeed, and desire can also make us fall. Desire is a good thing, and it is also a good thing to realize it, but we must grasp a degree. Therefore, we should properly cool our desires, as a human being rather than a god, to do what a person should do, and do it as well as possible, even perfect. This does not mean greed, to achieve balance in our hearts.
People who suffer losses often punish themselves with other mistakes or repair the imperfections of others with their kindness, and then put on gorgeous coats for others in their hearts. When you come into contact with that ugly soul, you will tremble involuntarily, and at the same time make your spirit miserable, and you will feel that any desire is smoke beyond your reach.
Desire should not be too strong, otherwise it is no longer a promotion for yourself, but a harm to yourself and others. It is extremely foolish to indulge one's desires. Learn to control your desires. Desire is not a pure thing. Desire is constantly changing with time, and one has different ideas at different stages of life, so that one's life has a new stage.
Thousands of years ago, Confucius put forward the principle of controlling desire, "Don't do to others what you don't want others to do to you." Laozi said, "Governing by doing nothing" and "Taoism is natural." Everyone is telling us how to control our desires, keep learning to control our desires and become the absolute master of our desires, then you will become an extraordinary person.
Beautiful prose article 6
Dreams are always out of reach, just like meteors across the sky. I really felt beautiful for a moment, and then I was decadent because of various realities, thinking that I was just naive at the beginning.
We are busy just to live more relaxed and happy tomorrow, but we don't know that even tomorrow, we will continue to work hard for the next so-called tomorrow.
After walking for so long, I turned around and found that I had been looking for relaxation. With the excuse of happiness getting farther and farther, I couldn't reach the other shore until I was exhausted, so the happiness that was within my reach was thrown at the crossroads I had walked. What we may yearn for and pursue has never come before we know it. It is not only youth that has passed away, but also the enthusiasm that once existed.
I thought there was only "tomorrow" between us and happiness, but I didn't know that every tomorrow was lurking in the next distance. At arm's length. But it is always out of reach.
In order to dream, I stubbornly changed my stubbornness and tried to live a relaxed and happy life. I don't want to be depressed, but I dare not say it. I think any dream should be imaginary. At the beginning, all my life, I made it a natural choice, without hesitation or regret, even if it hurts again, I will fight for it. It's just that sadness always comes suddenly, and it always disrupts the beauty inadvertently, even though I try my best to sort it out.
The dream is painful and happy, and I have been hesitating about the unknown tomorrow. Obviously, the simple desire, because of the urgency revealed by the unconfident direction, has become something ridiculous. Let my smile freeze in the next second, I can't think of the expression that I'm not sad or happy, and my melancholy heart is dull in my chest.
My mood was disturbed by an inexplicable, careless nerve numbly blank in one line, and I didn't want to render any meaningful colors. I know it very well, just like crazy Nietzsche and dead Sanmao. Who doesn't admit that their life is a mess when their world is exhausted by the friction with the real world? Actually, so am i.
Beautiful prose 7
By chance, I came to the field after a long separation. Stepping on the crushed straw, the distance is empty, and my heart is a little lost. Is this autumn? I keep asking myself.
I remember when I was a child, autumn was a very pleasant season. At that time, I could catch crickets in the grass with my friends, fish in the muddy river, drink cold drinks at sunny noon, listen to the rustling of leaves in windy evenings, and even go out to play without doing my homework and then go home and lie down. In my memory, in addition to these, there are farmers busy in the fields in autumn. I have witnessed every link, from harvesting corn to peanuts to plowing and sowing wheat, but I don't know the taste. Later, when I grew up, my life gradually moved away from agricultural production and the autumn that once made me happy. The happiness once owned is buried in the depths of the years forever.
I remember when the fire broke out in the summer of the third day of this year, I wore camouflage clothes and went deep into the village separated by more than ten miles. The smell of straw everywhere along the way made me happy, comfortable and familiar. My heart is very quiet. After the fire prevention, I reluctantly left the village. Every time I pass that intersection, I will unconsciously look north and want to find the peace that has long passed away.
I don't know why, I always feel that the road under my feet is getting lonely.
It's another no-burning season and another autumn. However, at this time, on this country road, there is no dependence and attachment in summer. When I was still immersed in yesterday's happiness, time has entered the autumn that can be endorsed in gray. In a blink of an eye, my friend went elsewhere; In a blink of an eye, times have changed; In the blink of an eye, the stars moved; In an instant, where will I be?
"Flowers are similar year after year, and people are different year after year." Isn't it the same in the empty autumn field? Beautiful prose 8
When my friend married her daughter this morning, the whole family went to help, and my little nephew was no exception. With his help, it becomes busier and busier. I whispered to my nephew: going to Mihe to play? His mouth suddenly turned into a gourd ladle, and the chicken nodded like pecking rice.
The Mihe River in early summer and the European village in early morning exude charming temptations everywhere.
The water in the bay is full, and there are many small stones along the coast. The little nephew is very happy because his favorite game is splashing water. He moves stones like a worker ant and throws stones like a shot putter. The louder the sound of splashing stones, I asked, like what? He blinked and said, it's like firing a gun! The sound made by a small stone, I asked, is like what? He cocked his head and said, it stinks like grandpa! Well, getting more and more presumptuous, driving him away like a duck on a shelf, whether he wants to cheat or beg.
There is a wild mulberry tree in the jungle on the east coast, with thick arms and purple mulberries hanging all over the branches. Shake it gently, and the mulberry will fall like rain. When you bend over, you can pick one and blow the soil gently, not too hard, or the juice will overflow. The little nephew ate wild mulberry for the first time, but it was not sweet when cooked, showing his true colors. After a while, his hands were dyed purple and his face was dyed purple and white. The B-shirt was also dyed purple until the mulberry on the tree shook and the purple disappeared.
There is a nameless flower that blooms in May. The white room is mixed with yellow and the red room is mixed with purple. It looks beautiful. My nephew asked me: What kind of flower is this? In order not to show grandpa's ignorance, I said speciously: it should be Gesanghua, right? Maybe a daisy? He asked: Can I give it to my mother? I said: ok! But don't pick too many. The police uncle will choose carefully if he chooses too much, but the thin stems don't cooperate. Until the flowers were messed up, they kept pinching the pole. He often turns back for help, and two people work together to solve it. Then he held them carefully, and his face was full of sunshine.
The sun is rising and the temperature is rising. Time to go home.
Beautiful prose 9
The past is surging, but the ancient songs of the past have not faded. Find a ditty with clear strings and listen quietly and savor it in the starry night. I will send my infatuation to the ear of the bright moon and ask for an ancient poem; I banished the palace lanterns to the vast night sky, competing with the sun and the moon to capture the reflection, and the waves were scattered in the moonlight and washed into sand shadows. Occasionally, the spring breeze blowing across the cheeks falls into the sweetness of the nose. On a night as bright as day, it is the colorful waves of the lake that soak your heart; What makes people sigh again and again is that the young people who were caught off guard flew by.
Looking at beauty, sentimental, holding a pile of scraps, looking for a full line of poems; Drink a cup of fragrant tea and enjoy the flowers and the moon; Rub it? G loess, build a solitary grave under the stars; Hold a clear spring, soak your heart and moisten your lungs;
"The White Dew is Frost" coincides with the night party, the moon is bright, and the atmosphere is congenial, but it is difficult to taste this profound wording. The moonlight on the beach washed like a shepherd's flute and buried the immortality of the old woman, which was covered with rain and frost for thousands of years. In the past, in the south of the Yangtze River, small bridges and flowing water screamed and sang softly. After several years, it was as calm as water.
Tap the gauze, sleep at night, stay silent and exquisite in endless years, waste years, draw dust unwashed, travel-stained, find a grave with excellent feng shui, listen to the wind and enjoy the moon, wait quietly for the tide of years to overflow your chest, close your eyes and say a long word.
The path is secluded, bamboo shadows follow, snake shadows dance lightly, and the lights are dim. On a biting night, I arrived at the banks of the Yangtze River and Huaihe River, enjoying the unique charm of the Millennium. The wind was blowing canoes, rippling, melodious and dancing. I don't realize that the rivers and lakes are lofty, I don't think about temples and countries, I just hope to travel thousands of miles. In the depths of the sea of clouds, your smile still hides half of her face behind her guitar, just like a peach blossom, which is like a dream. When I wake up, the mountains are high and the clouds are heavy, like a fairyland, and beauty is hard to find.
At the beginning of sunset, the evening breeze sings softly, and the lotus flowers sway gently at the beginning of Yaotai, dressing affectionately. Meeting under the moon is like a spring breeze blowing on the face, like a sweet spring moistening the heart. Love is hard to break, the moon is hard to round, life is hard to bind, and love is hard to last.
You are willing to stay in a corner for me, alone with the infatuation of cardamom. I am willing to give you a unique care through time and space and keep the oath of silence for many years.
Beautiful prose 10
Throughout the ages, how many sorrows have drifted in the long river of history ―― Inscription
Outside the window, the dust stirred by raindrops, like soft silks and satins, vaguely covers this infinitely magnificent mountain. Whose land is this land where talented people and beautiful women have fallen? "How much sadness can you have, like a river flowing eastward?" Sigh in the sunset He is a talented woman in the Southern Tang Dynasty, who loves painting and calligraphy. When Song Jun invaded the territory of the Tang Dynasty, he was trapped in the city and watched when smoke filled the whole palace. If he was born in an ordinary family, he must be an excellent poet, but he is helpless. He is an emperor. It's sadness, not the taste of the heart. "He's gone, and he's still the extravagant and lewd emperor in the Grand Palace." If you are born with more than enough, how can you be smart? "Who is it? Before he died, he lamented that he was the commander-in-chief of Soochow with unique scenery and was ordered to be in danger. When Kongming argued with the Confucians in Wu Dong Hall, when the ministers were persuaded by Zhuge Liang, he stood by and watched in disgust. He is an ambitious general, but unfortunately, he was defeated by Kong Ming. He has long understood Kong Ming's sufferings. Is this a lament for yourself? He's gone, and he's still the hero who marched immediately in troubled times. Who is "he pulls out mountains to make the world angry, but he will not die when it is unfavorable"? "lament by Wujiang river, he is the overlord of the land of Chu. When Liu Bang's army surrounded him, when it sounded in all directions, he held Yu Ji's body and his eyes were blank. He is an outstanding soldier, but sadly, he was defeated by Liu Bang. " The item is right but helpless! What is this? "He's gone, and he's still the overlord of the place of Chu." The whole world is muddy. I'm alone. Everyone is drunk. I'm alone. "Who is it? Lamentations by the Gulo River. His name is San Lv, and he is a doctor of Chu. He cares about his country and people. He is a competent courtier, but sadly, when he meets a traitor, he is always in power. In the long and arduous exile, he still expressed through Li Sao that "it is difficult to hide tears for a long time and mourn for the people." "Full of passion. He's gone, still a courtier outside the court, and it's raining heavily, as if he were talking about some beautiful prose 1 1.
If you can't laugh, it's ridiculous. Who is more fake than who? Samples are not like samples, and people are not adults. Who is better at pretending to be human than who? Different things can be simple, simple and difficult. The heart is different, there are thousands of miles inside and thousands of miles outside. It's hard to know the truth when you know the smoke. I haven't seen it all, but I haven't seen it. Dreams don't talk about dreams. If a song is a song, it's not much. Why do you become a destined person, hurt by several times, and confused by feelings? Friends are like friends, with different shades. Follow the road, the old remains the same, and the new adds the new.
I don't know when it will be clear. Do you understand? Remember now. Get together in front of you and say you are pessimistic, but you can't escape the laity. Sleepless at night, the road of life, but not all connected. Too much worry, too much wine, and dreams are far away and near. Breathe and sigh, frown as usual, trifles become autumn. Words don't understand the heart, people understand the heart, songs enter the heart, people don't. Don't tell, don't tell, let you argue.