Untitled prose

Everyone should be familiar with prose in study and work, right? Essay is a branch of prose and a variant of argumentative writing, which is both argumentative and lyrical. In order to help you better understand the essay, the following is my untitled essay for reference only, hoping to help you.

On the untitled essay 1 "He was giving music lessons to others until his death and never tried to become famous. Everything he did became his secret. " -Spring in the Cowherd Class

In the library, I think I have some small habits. When I turn pages, I always read the author's brief introduction first. I am very concerned about the definition of an author, not only a writer, but also a photographer, physicist and traveler. Of course, every time I see a time record, I will habitually calculate how old he was when he wrote this book and how old he was when he died. This habit was formed when I was very young.

For the rolling time, every bit of detail determines your next fate, but time really won't be remembered too much, and most details will be forgotten.

So those people can only pay attention to their identity attributes for time, but the details of the process will not be noticed by time, and we will not pay attention to it.

What can be remembered is the best.

Although memory and forgetting have been alternating in time, the essence is the same, but it is different after a long time. Forgetting is a short memory, and remembering is a long time later.

Even if the epiphyllum blooms only for a moment, it is worth trying to appreciate.

Even if no one remembers, live the most beautiful life.

You are enjoying the flowers, and someone is watching the flowers.

I don't think the authors of some books know how much I appreciate their thoughts, and it is not absolute to infer that they are forgotten. What you think is forgotten is only a small probability of being remembered.

Don't just live.

For an actor, it is not to be remembered by anyone, so to make public appearances and make scandals, but to do such a thing that he likes sincerely.

Just like now, I am not writing this statement to be remembered by anyone, but I really want to do it. What remains is not words, but thoughts. Those writers left behind ideas extracted from the long river of life.

Perhaps because of my young age, writing still feels very contradictory to me. This contradiction comes from all aspects: whether to write or not, whether to write seriously or casually, whether to write too many words is nonsense, whether to write concisely is a certain degree of silence, whether to be remembered or just to write ... If there are many questions, the answers will naturally come in a daze, so it doesn't matter.

In fact, there are very few really excellent books, but who will uniformly define which ones are the best? No one.

People who are full of emotions and write generate should be very calm in life.

I never want to get in touch with critics and debaters in my life. I am tired of living in disputes between right and wrong, but society cannot live without such people. Without their critical eyes, I won't realize my mistake.

I still want the wind to take away everything in the past. No one should misinterpret it and remember it.

On the road, I only take two pieces of luggage: one is curiosity and the other is courage.

I used words as a medium to record all this, and the beauty of the way was all taken over. In the safe world, whoever glances at it has nothing to do with me. Writing is a college topic, and it hasn't started yet.

There are always layers of ideas every day, but many of them can surprise you and make you feel forgotten if you don't write them down.

But I won't be confused and troubled by too many ideas, but I will come up with many answers to the questions I once wondered.

Writing is actually a dialogue with oneself and a process of realizing self-cognition.

As for the past, it seems that I have really forgotten a lot. As long as I don't deliberately think about it, the past has become a common occurrence.

Many people and things are not worth remembering.

Let yourself relax now, go on the road, just take your own thoughts and let the mess go by yourself.

About Untitled Essay 2 We are used to paying tribute to great men, but let the ordinary be ruthlessly squeezed, washed away and gradually passed away in the vast sea of people. Ordinary people are ordinary, and their efforts are silent. But it is with many such ordinary people that countless extraordinary things have been created.

My mother is a teacher. She was beautiful when she was young. Time is like a sand wheel, which gradually wears away my mother's beautiful face. The teacher's work is complicated and trivial, so it is enough to worry about a group of chattering children all day.

My mother has been worried since I was in junior high school.

After the third grade, I seem to be caught in a whirling whirlpool, and a lot of homework makes me physically and mentally exhausted. One day, I had a lot of homework. I sat at my desk, brushing questions all the time. I sat at my desk wearily, almost numb. I stood up, stretched myself, then turned on the TV and watched a variety show. Soon, my mother came in wearing an apron. Her trouser legs are obviously wrinkled and there are drops of water on her hands. She seems to have just washed clothes.

My mother lifted her apron and sat behind me, watching TV together. At first, my mother asked me a lot of questions cheerfully, and I explained them to her, but I still stared at the TV. Chatting and chatting, I suddenly found that there seemed to be no sound behind me. I turned around in doubt, only to find that my mother was asleep on the pillow. I was a little at a loss and waited for a while to quietly look at my sleeping mother.

The light in the room was dim and sprinkled on mother's face, revealing her thin and haggard face. Her face is pale, but rosy, just like an old photo that began to fade in the years.

Mom is only in her early forties, but she is old. Where is her beauty?

It was the years, her students, and of course me and our simple home that took away my mother's beautiful face.

I stared at my mother, who was breathing evenly.

In my memory, there are many such nights. As soon as I got home, I threw away my schoolbag and fell asleep in my room, ignoring my parents who had been waiting for me at the table for dinner. When mom or dad knocks at the door, I will say impatiently:

"I'm tired, let me sleep for a while."

……

It turns out that I am not the only one who is tired. My mother could have more reasons to have a rest, but she didn't.

After a day's work, my mother dragged her tired body back, and she had to buy food, cook, wash clothes and mop the floor ... At some point in the evening, she also prepared snacks for me to brush the questions in the evening-sometimes a cup of overheated milk, sometimes a plate of cut apples. ...

It turns out that I am just a naive child, sometimes making my mother angry and stabbing her heart with rebellious edges and corners. Am I a bit of an asshole, a bit stupid!

A little shame crept into my heart. I quietly got out of bed, turned off the TV, gently closed the door and walked out of the room.

In a blink of an eye, that gnashing time passed, and before I had a good rest, I ran into another cruel time-high school life finally arrived as scheduled.

In order to give me more study time and a more comfortable living environment, my parents rented a house in the neighborhood next to the school, and the two of them traveled back and forth between Sun Duan and Roma almost every day, either alone or together. So every morning, I can always have a steaming breakfast, 9: 00 every night; 10, I had more hopes and longings when I returned to my temporary home in Luomen after my self-study last night. When I open the door that doesn't belong to our home, there is always the warmest smiling face in it, so the short return trip from school to home in seven or eight minutes every night is no longer so lonely.

It's good to have parents!

That day, I looked through my father's mobile phone and accidentally saw the alarm time. The number above is "5: 30". Seeing this number, I was silent.

When I was lying in bed and refused to get up, there was the sound of pots and pans in the kitchen. Although the kitchen door is closed, I can still capture this subtle and meticulous sound, which can also make people feel warm in the cold winter.

Some people say: filial piety is to repay the love that cannot be repaid in this life; Efforts are made to be worthy of those who never love enough.

My mother is an ordinary woman, but her ordinary always seems so extraordinary to me.

Mom, love you! Forever!

Untitled essay 3 has experienced some things and is also open-minded. A word from the tall: washing lead will eventually reveal the truth. When we see others easily finish what we need to do, our hearts will be more or less unbalanced and full of all kinds of envy and hatred for him. Maybe when we know the hard work and sweat behind them, we may be relieved and respect him from the bottom of our hearts.

After finishing the chemistry experiment today, I was lucky enough to stay and clean with the first person in my class. When cleaning, we talked a lot, including studying. He knows all the subjects he has studied, which subjects should be focused on and which subjects only need to pass the exam. I am shocked by this. He just smiled and shook his head and said, I seldom sleep when I review. I review until twelve o'clock every day, and I will take the exam when I wake up the next day. I was silent. If you can grit your teeth and stick to it, everyone can get good grades in the exam. However, because I couldn't stand being bored, I gave up. Since I gave up on my own, there should be no resentment and jealousy, and I am not qualified.

If you give, you may not get anything, but if you don't give, you will definitely get nothing. When you see others reap fruitful results, please think about how much you have paid before jealousy breeds.

On Untitled Prose 4 Rain, dripping in the ground, dripping in the grass, dripping in the leaves and dripping in the heart.

Hiding in front of the garage in the morning, watching the rain quietly. When I was absorbed in observing the leaves in front of me through the glass, I was startled by a "sloped" sound. What happened? The green leaves in front of me suddenly moved! I rubbed my eyes with my hand and blinked a few times. "Sloppy", water drops on the leaves, two small leaves suddenly shake, like the wings of a bird. This leaf touches me, I touch you, and the other leaves move! Like water waves, they expand their territory round after round. Finally, wave to me in the drizzle!

Rain, small, breeze. I went out and saw a bunch of grass. Their backs are straight, but they bow their heads deeply, like old people on crutches and punished teenagers. At the moment, they are playing in the wind and jumping around with their heads. I attacked you from behind, and you turned to hit me, so happy!

When the rain stopped, I suddenly turned around and saw a large group of dog tail grass, swaying in the wind, just like those grasses. I walked there quickly, took out one and played. I'll rub my nose with it first. It itches to death! Then, I buckle the seeds one by one and let them fly away with the wind. A grain is high, a grain is low, a grain is far away, a grain is near, some fall in the soil, some fall on the ground, and some fall on the leaves.

The sun poked its head out of the clouds and a drop of dew slipped down the grass.

About Untitled Essay 5 At noon, I walked in the alley from home to Fu You's home. A ray of sunshine appeared in the half-cloudy sky in the morning. At the end of the alley is the main entrance of Fu You. This alley is a dead end, and there is no other way to go anywhere else. Overall, it is 200 meters away. Looking from a distance, I saw a three-story doorpost leaning against a long ladder, and a security guard in his fifties was lying on it, hammering nails into the cement. There are several other security guards in their fifties and sixties standing underground, pointing up.

I have to go to my home in Fu You, because the supermarket eggs here in my home sell for 4.2 yuan; Besides, they sell eggs in 4.6 yuan, which is faster and fresher than mine.

Only one car can fit in the narrowest part of the alley. Compared with the morning and evening rush hour traffic jams, it seems deserted at the moment. This month, the newly paved asphalt road smoothed the potholes for many years, but it was only paved as far as 100 meters away from the front of Fu You. The spilled domestic sewage moved from the original pit to Fu You. Sewage comes from shanty towns on both sides of the alley. At this moment, the dilapidated wall has already been painted with the word "demolition", and no one has been seen for a long time. I thought I would be razed to the ground before National Day. However, the rampant domestic sewage shows that some of them are still bargaining with the government.

Two men rode by on an electric car. I only heard a person in front "explain" loudly to the back: ... I will "go up" if there is beauty; I'm going to eat something good ... "I narrowed my eyes and the speaker looked like he was going to kill someone.

The middle school next to it will also be demolished. It is very quiet at the moment. The children inside must be absorbed in reading.

At the moment, I saw a red banner hanging high above the main entrance of Fu You.

Wrote:

"Mingde Property wishes all owners a happy Mid-Autumn Festival"

Several security guards in the underground are shouting at the people lying above: "All right, all right, just take it!" " "