Composition on the topic of old books 1 I am a book, and one is full of your old books.
The beginning is the acquaintance of strangers. On a bright morning, I remember it was a blooming spring. We met by the lake. You studied the leaves. I asked timidly if you could help me pick a leaf, too. I want the one in the tree. In fact, you are not tall enough, but you are good enough. You tried your best to help me pick up a crumpled leaf that you caught after jumping up and down. That's my leaf. It belongs to this old book. The handwriting is a little yellow, but when I read it, I can still hear the crisp sound of the paper, and my memory is a little far away. /kloc-not all stories from 0/2 years ago can be recorded. The beauty of old books enables me to write down some words, which are incomplete, but I can remember a wave in my heart and some young words to keep more youthful vitality. The novella is that we have known each other since we met, and then we will take you home to scratch your eloquence. I understand that you are a child who just moved in next door. You are older than me. My mother called you brother, probably because I called you brother after we met. I can't say your full name yet, but you are the one I will never forget, because only you in the world will call me short sister.
You have a great face, and you will be upset because you can't get full marks, and you are boring and unpopular, but I never mind, either because I took advantage of you when I met you, or because you were kind to me.
In short, we are very good friends. We go to school hand in hand. People bully me, you stand up. People speak ill of you, I swear. Before, I was called a sheep conquered by the devil. How do they know that we have never been conquered? We are just good friends. There are childhood notes in the book, and there are also two little guys hiding under the tree crying, clearly recording the unwelcome you, which makes me disliked by others. I try my best to educate stubborn you, and then hold you firmly and declare that you are my best friend. Old books are a history, an unforgettable past, no matter what it tastes like, but I can't get rid of it in my heart.
The last chapter is like a stranger. This book is only a few short pages. Apart from my incomprehension and many feelings all day, I only remember that you gave me a faint look and left the hut where they lived for a year without looking back. There seems to be no disappointment. The past events that come and go in a hurry, even if they are taken away by one sentence, will leave indelible marks on the paper, and can also engrave mottled marks on the heart. Open the old books slowly and browse until you finally know how to walk slowly. The joys and sorrows recorded in the old books are just like smoke now. I can't go back, and there will be no sequel.
Whether you remember it or not, you are also a book, full of my old books.
Old book topic composition 2 Work with courageous people and read from places where there are no words.
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History is like an old book. Although there are no words, it gives people infinite enlightenment. Especially when I feel confused, I will sit in the bright moonlight, reminisce about history, remember the past through the ages, hold hands with the ancients and listen to their teachings.
To appreciate history, we must gradually integrate into an older and more patient concept of time. When you are synchronized with her breath, you can even smell her breath and feel her unique vicissitudes. In the face of history, we feel very small, but we have a special honor to hear the true meaning of life that history tells us.
History tells us to be upright and upright. "Scholars don't move for profit, and don't change for illness." Kou Zhun is Song Taizong's counselor and an official. On one occasion, he told Emperor Taizong something, and they had an argument. When Emperor Taizong was angry, he would retire from the DPRK. Kou Zhun is not afraid to offend the dragon's face, so he won't let him go until he sits down and decides this matter. Later, Song Taizong had to say with emotion, "I won Kou Zhun, and Emperor Juventus won Wei Zhi." Kou Zhun's integrity, like a ray of light in the darkness, lit up the whole court, so that Emperor Taizong would not make a wrong decision because of his personal feelings. Because of his integrity, he was hated, demoted several times and died in Leizhou. However, we should not defile our innocence and integrity for fear of offending others. We should be honest and dare to speak and do.
History tells us that we should save for others. "If you can't be frugal with yourself, take it from others." Zhang was an official in the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty. During his tenure, he repeatedly proposed to Zongshen: "Save the country and love the people, protect the country and defend the country." In terms of luxury expenses of the royal family, it is also frugal and uncompromising. Even because of fear of wasting lights and candles, the original evening class was changed to daytime. Saving is the traditional virtue of the Chinese nation. Although the material life in modern society is increasingly rich, it is not contradictory to saving. Everyone should set an example and practise economy.
History tells us that love for important people. "Where the flower of love is in full bloom, there is vitality."
History tells us to be rigorous. "If you don't think deeply, you won't learn."
History tells us to be pragmatic. "The facts will not change because no one pays attention."
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"People always have to look up, aim high and support life and soul." Looking up at history, we can realize our own smallness and inadequacy; Looking up at history, you can find your goals in the complicated world; Looking up at history, we can find Polaris in the vast sea of life.
The old books of history can melt the confusion into the tranquility of the night, but it is too thick and needs us to spend a lifetime slowly appreciating it.
The faint moonlight shone in from the window, reflected lightly on the floor of the room, and cast a soft light.
Gently open the bookcase, I saw my familiar bibliography.
Eyes wandering on the book, I don't know which one to take out. These books are all familiar to me, such as a dream of red mansions, thin comic books and Analects of Confucius. They are too abstruse for me to understand ... I can recite all the books. I looked at it hesitantly. Suddenly, an inexplicable state of mind jumped up. I just glanced at it a little, and I didn't hesitate to take out the first-grade textbook at the bottom.
Open it gently, and with the sound of "Cha La La", the yellow pages are hard. I was stunned at first, but then I couldn't help laughing. I remember that when I was in the second grade, I washed my feet while watching. Inadvertently, my hand slipped and it slipped into the basin like a loach.
Page by page, pinyin first, and then teach us to write simple new words. Although the handwriting on it is blurred by water, it is still roughly clear. I saw a girl, white and chubby, holding a pencil tightly, writing one by one, writing askew, but her face was full of childish joy.
The word "one" suddenly caught my eye, and the whole page was full of crooked words of different sizes. At first, the "one" calligraphy and painting looked like a centipede, which made people feel uncomfortable. After that, although not handsome or beautiful, at least it is not as ugly as it was at the beginning. In the corner of the book, I saw a young font: wohuixiezile (I can write). Although it is pinyin, I still understand that the girl who drew a whole page of the word "one" finally wrote a line of pinyin in the corner with joy. Bright sunshine shines through her hair, and her round little face is full of innocent smiles, just like the sunshine floating on the water.
Go on turning back page by page, every page has intoxicating handwriting. I don't know why a page is half broken. As soon as I saw this, I knew I must have had a hard time with my parents. I've had this problem since I was a child. When I am angry, I will tear up everything I meet.
Page after page, two little people are painted on a page, stumbling on the paper, not knowing what to say, the dialogue has long been blurred, but a long-lost mood slips through my heart.
The books I used as a child don't look strange at the moment, but feel particularly cordial. From the naivety of grade one in primary school to the maturity of grade two in junior high school, I have really changed a lot! However, the innocence in my heart seems to have not changed, but with the passage of time, a thick cocoon has been formed. As this old book is opened page by page, the cocoon is uncovered layer by layer, and the childlike innocence flies out, and the joy of childhood is scattered like the sunshine all over the sky. ...
Silent moonlight sprinkled on the old books in my hand. Although the pages have turned yellow, I have seen childhood smiles and tears. ...
I found a very broken book at the bottom of a bookcase when I was packing at home.
This book has a green cover and four characters of "Fable Story", and it also exudes a faint fragrance, which reminds me of my grandfather.
I feel my eyes are moist, but my mouth is still smiling. I miss my grandfather very much. When I was a child, my grandfather always told me stories on sunny nights. He always has a book in his hand and the other hand caresses my little head. At that time, I thought grandpa's hands were rough. I said grandpa's hands are not as smooth as my head. Grandpa always tells stories with a smile in that book, and I always listen to them with relish.
I lay in grandpa's arms and fell asleep sweetly. I still vaguely hear grandpa's vicissitudes of life and the air together, caring for my dream. Grandpa, this book is very new! Grandpa said it was a long time ago. I say these stories are quite interesting. I also said that the man who stole the clock was really stupid. The man who encourages others to pull out seedlings is definitely unable to farm. Everyone in this book is stupid.
Grandpa said yes, yes, my lovely grandson is the cleverest. In this way, I spent a happy day in my grandfather's story. At that time, the days were really happy and unrestrained, and there were lovely grandfathers and endless stories. My hand turned the pages of this old book. The smiling faces in my memory are all printed on this yellow paper, as rough as grandpa's hands and full of vicissitudes. A tear of mine fell unconsciously in these vicissitudes of life, and I really miss my grandfather. Time eroded my childhood and took away my beloved grandfather. Grandpa died, and no one told me those "stupid stories" anymore.
On the day my grandfather died, I cried all day. My mother said my eyes were swollen like a bag. How I look forward to grandpa telling me the story again and listening to his warm voice in the clear night sky. I really like grandpa touching my little head with his hand. I remember the last story my grandfather told me was about cutting feet and trying on shoes. It was a "stupid story". I laughed until my stomach ached.
Grandpa said, grandchild, you must be a smart man. Then I fell asleep in grandpa's arms. Since then, grandpa has never told me a story. This book was put on grandpa's bed and accompanied him to death. Mom said to throw away the book, and grandpa was gone. I cried for it and told them that no one could touch it.
In this way, I put it at the bottom of the bookcase until today. The book is not new, and every word in it is lifelike. Every sentence in the book is a portrayal of my happiness and grandpa's. I can't forget those familiar stories, and I can't forget every moment with my grandfather. Memories remind me of my grandfather. At the moment, I think this book 1 is so heavy, and I think this book is so warm. Grandpa's smiling face seems to exist on every page of the book. I immediately expect grandpa to tell me stories again in the clear night sky.
I put this book in its original position, but my eyes have never left this old book that records the story between my grandfather and me.
Speaking of books, I also love books. I have read many books since I was a child, but strangely, what I like best is not the neat rows of new books in the library, but the piles of old books that seem to have turned yellow at home.
This beautiful story makes me very happy.
If every book is a treasure, many of my treasures contain the original purity and perfection brought to me by this world. I used to love reading fairy tales, such as Selected Fairy Tales of the World, Grimm's Fairy Tales and Andersen's Fairy Tales. Which book have I not read and read? What attracted me was their last sentence: "They lived happily ever after". Every time I read there, my mouth will rise unconsciously. The good man lived happily ever after, and the prince and princess lived happily ever after. I don't think there is anything more gratifying in the world.
Yellowing pages fascinate me.
Although I still don't understand why books turn yellow after a long time, I still feel that faint yellow. Perhaps white paper gives people an invisible pressure, fearing that it will be dirty if you are not careful, but yellowed paper is different. It seems to be an old friend who has gone through many vicissitudes, quietly telling you the story it has experienced, or making you laugh, or pulling out a few tears, but in any case, it is always pleasant to get along with old friends. Therefore, whenever I see an old book with yellow pages, I am fascinated by it until I can't extricate myself.
I am intoxicated with the perfection of the past.
A book that is still intact today must have been regarded as a treasure in the past. This book must have hidden many unusual feelings and memories. Sometimes when my mother digs out one or two old books at home, she will drag me to tell me the scene of her grabbing books with her good friends in high school. Listen to the tone, it seems that she is not holding a book in her hand, but a long-cherished memory, and I sometimes immerse myself in this memory. Every time I see the rows of old books, it's like being a child again. On a quiet afternoon, I sat on the windowsill with a book and sometimes chewed sweet hawthorn strips. Now think about it, how happy I was at that time, which finally made me understand why I always like reading, reading a book and never getting tired of reading it. No one can beat it and indulge in it. This is a great happiness.
Just cleaned up the house and sorted out a lot of books I read in the past. Every book makes me laugh at the past memories and perfection. If I watch it again, will I still have the mood at that time, the pure joy at that time
I hope so, because I love them.
When I have nothing to do, I always squat down beside the old book stall, carefully open the yellowed pages, greedily smell the unique rich and quaint taste, and feel the sea of words aroused by this ancient ship with the gentle and meaningful rhythm.
That deep page tells a withered life, a declining family, a fact as red as blood, pure and full happiness, warm and profound love, broad and abstract philosophy in a plain style. It's like an old man, shedding the glitz of the world, telling you truth and falsehood, good and evil, beauty and ugliness seriously, making your thoughts deep and pure, teaching you to let go of troubles and burdens and face life with a smile. Old books are real, without complicated illustrations, abrupt columns and fancy packaging. It only has simple binding, only the text that fills the page.
Use a light-colored paper as the cover, a few solemn words as the title, a few affectionate words as the preface, and several simple catalogs as the index. Then there is the voluminous text. If you are lucky enough to turn to an annotated old book, it is like getting a treasure in the book. You can communicate with the original owner of the old book, find the ideological level that you are not aware of, and add diamonds hidden in the bottom of the box to yourself. Let the original superficial thoughts gradually enrich. This is not a famous annotation, so there is no need to understand it respectfully and dare not question it.
This is a speculative process, which opens up the breadth of your thinking. Reading literary masterpieces and classical masterpieces, if you can have an ancient paperback that transcends the rhyme of time and space, you can enter that era, truly feel the social atmosphere at that time, feel people's emotions at that time, and follow the footsteps of historical figures. The ancient air will cause ripples in your heart.
At this time, you are flying freely in the historical sky, swimming in the long river of history, overlooking the beauty of history and salvaging the mystery of history, which is like a dream. Old books are forgotten and dusty memories. Under its dusty cover, it contains knowledge that will never fall behind. Old books are refurbished again and again, and what remains unchanged is the eternal and far-reaching words that are often read and often updated. Unlike some books on the market with gorgeous mounting and plain or even vulgar information, it contains the essence precipitated in the history of literature and a simple and calm mentality.
Hold an old book, make a cup of strong tea, and let the heartbeat rhythm be natural in the yellow halo intertwined with sunshine. Open old books, take a deep breath of history, and let it teach you the true meaning of words and life.
I found a very broken book at the bottom of a bookcase when I was packing at home.
This book has a green cover and four characters of "Fable Story", and it also exudes a faint fragrance, which reminds me of my grandfather.
I feel my eyes are moist, but my mouth is still smiling. I miss my grandfather very much. When I was a child, my grandfather always told me stories on sunny nights. He always has a book in his hand and the other hand caresses my little head. At that time, I thought grandpa's hands were rough. I said grandpa's hands are not as smooth as my head. Grandpa always tells stories with a smile in that book, and I always listen to them with relish.
I lay in grandpa's arms and fell asleep sweetly. I still vaguely hear grandpa's vicissitudes of life and the air together, caring for my dream. Grandpa, this book is very new! Grandpa said it was a long time ago. I say these stories are quite interesting. I also said that the man who stole the clock was really stupid. The man who encourages others to pull out seedlings is definitely unable to farm. Everyone in this book is stupid.
Grandpa said yes, yes, my lovely grandson is the cleverest. In this way, I spent a happy day in my grandfather's story. At that time, the days were really happy and unrestrained, and there were lovely grandfathers and endless stories. My hand turned the pages of this old book. The smiling faces in my memory are all printed on this yellow paper, as rough as grandpa's hands and full of vicissitudes. A tear of mine fell unconsciously in these vicissitudes of life, and I really miss my grandfather. Time eroded my childhood and took away my beloved grandfather. Grandpa died, and no one told me those "stupid stories" anymore.
On the day my grandfather died, I cried all day. My mother said my eyes were swollen like a bag. How I look forward to grandpa telling me the story again and listening to his warm voice in the clear night sky. I really like grandpa touching my little head with his hand. I remember the last story my grandfather told me was about cutting feet and trying on shoes. It was a "stupid story". I laughed until my stomach ached.
Grandpa said, grandchild, you must be a smart man. Then I fell asleep in grandpa's arms. Since then, grandpa has never told me a story. This book was put on grandpa's bed and accompanied him to death. Mom said to throw away the book, and grandpa was gone. I cried for it and told them that no one could touch it.
In this way, I put it at the bottom of the bookcase until today. The book is not new, and every word in it is lifelike. Every sentence in the book is a portrayal of my happiness and grandpa's. I can't forget those familiar stories, and I can't forget every moment with my grandfather. Memories remind me of my grandfather. At the moment, I think this book 1 is so heavy, and I think this book is so warm. Grandpa's smiling face seems to exist on every page of the book. I immediately expect grandpa to tell me stories again in the clear night sky.
I put this book in its original position, but my eyes have never left this old book that records the story between my grandfather and me.
The faint moonlight shone in from the window, reflected lightly on the floor of the room, and cast a soft light.
Gently open the bookcase, I saw my familiar bibliography.
Eyes wandering on the book, I don't know which one to take out. These books are all familiar to me, such as a dream of red mansions, thin comic books and Analects of Confucius. They are too abstruse for me to understand ... I can recite all the books. I looked at it hesitantly. Suddenly, an inexplicable state of mind jumped up. I just glanced at it a little, and I didn't hesitate to take out the first-grade textbook at the bottom.
Open it gently, and with the sound of "Cha La La", the yellow pages are hard. I was stunned at first, but then I couldn't help laughing. I remember that when I was in the second grade, I washed my feet while watching. Inadvertently, my hand slipped and it slipped into the basin like a loach.
Page by page, pinyin first, and then teach us to write simple new words. Although the handwriting on it is blurred by water, it is still roughly clear. I saw a girl, white and chubby, holding a pencil tightly, writing one by one, writing askew, but her face was full of childish joy.
The word "one" suddenly caught my eye, and the whole page was full of crooked words of different sizes. At first, the "one" calligraphy and painting looked like a centipede, which made people feel uncomfortable. After that, although not handsome or beautiful, at least it is not as ugly as it was at the beginning. In the corner of the book, I saw a young font: wohuixiezile (I can write). Although it is pinyin, I still understand that the girl who drew a whole page of the word "one" finally wrote a line of pinyin in the corner with joy. Bright sunshine shines through her hair, and her round little face is full of innocent smiles, just like the sunshine floating on the water.
Go on turning back page by page, every page has intoxicating handwriting. I don't know why a page is half broken. As soon as I saw this, I knew I must have had a hard time with my parents. I've had this problem since I was a child. When I am angry, I will tear up everything I meet.
Page after page, two little people are painted on a page, stumbling on the paper, not knowing what to say, the dialogue has long been blurred, but a long-lost mood slips through my heart.
The books I used as a child don't look strange at the moment, but feel particularly cordial. From the naivety of grade one in primary school to the maturity of grade two in junior high school, I have really changed a lot! However, the innocence in my heart seems to have not changed, but with the passage of time, a thick cocoon has been formed. As this old book is opened page by page, the cocoon is uncovered layer by layer, and the childlike innocence flies out, and the joy of childhood is scattered like the sunshine all over the sky. ...
Silent moonlight sprinkled on the old books in my hand. Although the pages have turned yellow, I saw the smiles and tears of my childhood.
Old book topic composition 9 Yellowing pages, faint ink fragrance-an old book, has been preserved with the changes of the times. Open it in your spare time, and you will find that its content is still of great significance to people living in modern times. In my opinion, China culture is such a rare old book.
This old book on China culture teaches you what happiness is. Wang Zhaojun is happy. After three years in limbo, she still faces life positively in the face of Mao Yanshou's frame-up. When the Xiongnu in the north asked for relatives, she stepped forward and was willing to be the emissary of relatives, so that "the border town, cattle and horses are wild", Han and Hungary are harmonious, and the country and the people are safe. Zhaojun's happy smile will remain in people's hearts forever. The history and culture of China make us understand that happiness is not to get more, but to care less. Maybe we have lost, we have been sad and regretted, but when the smile returns to our face, happiness will come to our hearts.
Old books on China culture tell us to March bravely into the unknown world. Zhuangzi once said, "My life is limited, but so is my knowledge." Compared with the limited knowledge of human beings, there is always a bigger unknown field. Su Shi was brilliant when he was young and was often praised by others. After a long time, he became proud and wrote such a couplet in front of his study: "Know the words of the world and read the books of the world". But with the passage of study time, he felt that this couplet was inappropriate, so he began to change it to: "Make great efforts to know all the words in the world and make up your mind to read all the books in the world." Only by constantly exploring the unknown world can society make continuous progress. Old books on China culture always remind us that contentment is the enemy of progress, and arrogance is the expression of ignorance.
The old books of China culture let us know that life has to go forward and retreat. Nine times out of ten, life is unhappy. When there is no way in, we should learn to retreat. When Li Bai was brilliant and had nowhere to display, he sang "One day I will ride the wind and waves, and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea" and leave smartly; When Tao Yuanming couldn't change the dirty social reality, he chanted "Picking chrysanthemums under the hedge, enjoying himself". After Wang Wei was captured by the rebels, he was given a fake post and retired to the mountains and rivers. He didn't care about his career, only sent a bright moon, and wrote beautiful sentences such as "moonlight in the pine forest, crystal stone in the stream" and "sunset crossing the river, smoke rising at midnight". The old books on China culture provide us with another way to move forward: retreat for progress and take it calmly.
After the baptism of time, the remaining contents of this old China cultural book have become more and more precious. As teenagers, should we be the inheritors and carriers of this old book?