p5kyz416
Dołączył: 22 Lut 2011
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Wysłany: 05 Maj 2011, 01:0 Temat postu: as well as sculptures |
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【A】
a woman named Peony, come to my room yesterday, browsing some of my text, the message sent was so moving, so I moved, I was deeply ashamed, very often, have their own busy as an excuse to focus on other people's little space, most of them are more familiar words come to my site where I have reviewed the manuscript of the writer.
perhaps, a few years ago, when I first set foot in the network, and she knew me, there was the impression among the friends called the Peony. But later, as some people and things, I do not have a friend there is room for those moving away from the familiar strangers in my line of sight, although occasionally think of moving and warm during, but as time goes by, all already have changed, things have changed a.
Anyway, this woman named Peony, is this winter I can feel the warmth of the virtual, her interpretation of my words carefully,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], give me a far more sense in the virtual neighbors.
【two】
may result when the affinity, time missed. Although there are millions that way leads to each other, can they do? even, just have a love of life and death can only know each other, and their lives. and then the rest is the most Yuntie the kind of happiness and warmth beyond the soul and calm in my heart can be obtained and willing to deliver. In fact, love is not to say I love you or someone you love me, and more, just let each other know that, right close or the End of the World - You and I are. will be more quiet. I used to be a teacher then. weeds, Yan-Hua, Jinsong, or cypress,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], are not self-hyun,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], is not lovable, and his own soul exchange. by writing to each of the Mind, with every man looked like. stand by your words sincere look at your feelings, the most known among the hand started to write down a sense of loss. Happy happy happy! all the soft words, and words are water, water is the washing of the soul. and then more pain because of the clear and sensitive. because the text is the true face of the record of their own inner truth. You know what? read your words to me The deepest feeling is: you Nishajuxia time, in your warm heart field, there is a garden of your own hidden field within your heart, your soul in your garden grow happiness happy. Every day, Every day, all bears flowers of a flower to ... ...
because of her busy running his own little space.
However, she still own unique way to understand the text and interpret the meaning of life.
If not for the busy, maybe she was also out in words to a beautiful flower. Perhaps because as a woman with
, plus she was also a teacher, therefore, my life and status among some of the scenes compared to perception and understanding. Therefore, she tolerance and understanding in their own words warm my dream. Warmth of the words a few lines, leaving the warmth of my season and moved.
【d】
people say a woman blossoming.
I also like flowers, usually I prefer the more elegant flowers. Such as chrysanthemum, jasmine, lilies, gardenias and orchids, as well as the slopes of camellias, wild azaleas, wild chrysanthemum,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], which are very common in my presence around everywhere, so I felt familiar warmth. Perhaps it is because they are too ordinary, so like the flowers are also some relatively strong vitality, and the flowers are very common.
I also plant flowers, some are not raising a lot of thought of bluegrass, cactus, Epiphyllum, Clivia like easy survival, but not strenuous, and I let them lie on the corner of the balcony, the general is their fate, and nothing is about to adjust the air, and absorb excess water on the balcony.
because that man loves me like chrysanthemums, he often will I be compared to chrysanthemum, therefore, my words there is more chrysanthemum.
the peony, and perhaps too precious, nor can ordinary people like me wait to get. Therefore, either the woman named Peony, perhaps, peony flower that is difficult atmosphere rich in my words.
as peonies, so I have a desire to understand the impulse and desire peony.
【V】
tree peony is a rare endemic to China, flowers, flowers large colorful, elegant, rich and dignified, rich aroma, and variety, known as
Tang Dynasty, literati enjoy singing a lot of love for peonies. Among them, Li Bai's less static situation. only true country Peony color, bloom season, moving the capital, see the value of spend: Shining one hundred red, stuffy stuffy step beam element. Every family practice for the customs, all fans come to their senses. At this time, more types of peony not only color, but also there are some new phenomenon of variation and plena.
Song Dynasty, in addition to poetry in large numbers outside the peony, peony monographs have appeared, such as Ouyang Xiu's Chen states Peony Yuan Yao, then the a
In addition, there are many scattered all mingled history, anthology of poems Wen Fu Peony, Peony throughout civil Huaxiang legends, as well as sculptures, sculpture, painting, music, theater, fashion, living, food, etc. Peony cultural phenomenon, more often than not, people left a deep impression.
six】 【
now finally know that any flowers have their own unique vitality and value.
because, you, I was there. He, she, too. Therefore, we bathe in the natural beauty of the arms. Comfortably enjoy a lot of things that belong to us, in the same blue sky, the dream of those with wings,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], enjoy flying, so far apart in the interpretation of human society,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], where people enjoy the affection and warmth.
all over the world, strangers in all directions because some familiar scenes and way of life and moved from the strange to the familiar friendship in the text set up in each other comfort. Perhaps this is my simple words are given meaning.
2010.12.4
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.
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