Who can use green bamboo as a bow and arrow, shoot into the sky, and never fall? My imagination is like a long arrow that shoots towards the clouds and sky, and it never returns. The long arrow points, in the vast void that is blue and bright.

If a wise person makes good use of his wisdom, he will be able to read a small text from the sky, in which there are sighs and silences, colors and fragrances, love and resentment. No author name. No year or month. No story. None...but the content is very soft. The void is silent, and there is music in the reader's soul. The void is bright and blue, but the reader's soul is bright and clean.

There is a slope on the stone road in front of the gate. On the slope, there are green trees with long stems and weak branches. There are often mountain spirits, showing their waists and white teeth, and coming and going. Those who meet are dumbfounded. Love makes one mute—a language sings about death. "Love and death are neighbors".

Of course, abstract love can also make people supernatural. Patriotism also needs life, and only those who are full of vitality can be patriotic. People who are like eunuchs have nothing to love, they are enthusiastic about the country, they are so-so, they have no feelings for people, and they are extremely frightened of ideals. He also married and had children, studied and taught, and held meetings as an official, but he was always a eunuch mentally. Talking to eunuchs about this, of course, has no way of understanding.

Night dreams are very strange. I saw a pale green lily, with a weak neck and soft flowers, with slight spots and blue stains on the body, leaning against the door and shaking slightly. There seems to be a very familiar voice greeting from an unknown place:

"Look, there should be a star in the flower. Look carefully."

So reach out and touch it. The flower trembled slightly, as if timid. Also smile again, if there is something to rely on. Because of gently shaking the flower stalk, stalk, and petals. A few leaves have fallen off near the flowers.

Like a sigh, low and distinct.

The thunderstorm has just passed. When I woke up, I smelled a dog barking in the distance, barking like a leopard. Half-dazed, I lay in bed and meditated, feeling melancholy. Because the lily swayed by the door, trembled or smiled when touched, in fact impossible!

When he got up, he would write down what happened, and use the semi-relief technique, like a jade worker to process a piece of jade, cut it and cut it. When finished, it looks like a small decoration on a fireplace. Exquisite as porcelain, simple as bamboo.

Many people are in a hurry and busy. They are either addicted to fame and wealth, or pursue material wealth at all costs. When they are chasing fame and wealth, they are troubled, but they forget the most warm and moving things in life. moment!

In fact, there are not so many troubles in life, everything is just mediocre. As long as we stop a little, we can better cherish the beauty of the original life, not dazzled by love, not disgusted by filth, and always look at life correctly and transparently. At that time, you will find that there is light shining in the secluded and small places of life.

Who can use green bamboo as a bow and arrow, shoot into the sky, and never fall? My imagination is like a long arrow that shoots towards the clouds and sky, and it never returns. The long arrow points, in the vast void that is blue and bright.

If a wise person makes good use of his wisdom, he will be able to read a small text from the sky, in which there are sighs and silences, colors and fragrances, love and resentment. No author name. No year or month. No story. None...but the content is very soft. The void is silent, and there is music in the reader's soul. The void is bright and blue, but the reader's soul is bright and clean.

There is a slope on the stone road in front of the gate. On the slope, there are green trees with long stems and weak branches. There are often mountain spirits, showing their waists and white teeth, and coming and going. Those who meet are dumbfounded. Love makes one mute—a language sings about death. "Love and death are neighbors".

Of course, abstract love can also make people supernatural. Patriotism also needs life, and only those who are full of vitality can be patriotic. People who are like eunuchs have nothing to love, they are enthusiastic about the country, they are so-so, they have no feelings for people, and they are extremely frightened of ideals. He also married and had children, studied and taught, and held meetings as an official, but he was always a eunuch mentally. Talking to eunuchs about this, of course, has no way of understanding.

Night dreams are very strange. I saw a pale green lily, with a weak neck and soft flowers, with slight spots and blue stains on the body, leaning against the door and shaking slightly. There seems to be a very familiar voice greeting from an unknown place:

"Look, there should be a star in the flower. Look carefully."

So reach out and touch it. The flower trembled slightly, as if timid. Also smile again, if there is something to rely on. Because of gently shaking the flower stalk, stalk, and petals. A few leaves have fallen off near the flowers.

Like a sigh, low and distinct.

The thunderstorm has just passed. When I woke up, I smelled a dog barking in the distance, barking like a leopard. Half-dazed, I lay in bed and meditated, feeling melancholy. Because the lily swayed by the door, trembled or smiled when touched, in fact impossible!

When he got up, he would write down what happened, and use the semi-relief technique, like a jade worker to process a piece of jade, cut it and cut it. When finished, it looks like a small decoration on a fireplace. Exquisite as porcelain, simple as bamboo.

Many people are in a hurry and busy. They are either addicted to fame and wealth, or pursue material wealth at all costs. When they are chasing fame and wealth, they are troubled, but they forget the most warm and moving things in life. moment!

In fact, there are not so many troubles in life, everything is just mediocre. As long as we stop a little, we can better cherish the beauty of the original life, not dazzled by love, not disgusted by filth, and always look at life correctly and transparently. At that time, you will find that there is light shining in the secluded and small places of life.