Calm down, calm down the classic prose.

Calm down, calm down the classic prose.

I believe everyone has seen many essays on the Internet, many of which express the author's feelings. Some people will feel something after reading these articles. Let's share the classic essays with a quiet heart.

Quiet classic prose 1, clean hands, pour ink, spread paper and start writing. Spring has arrived, the wind is light, the steps are light and the heart is soft. Accustomed to wasting time on pen and ink. Writing with ink is one's pleasure.

The ancients said: "The writer is like this. His knowledge, his talent, his ambition. In short, I just like someone. " A person's words, when they fall on paper, reveal the books he read, his personal accomplishment and his personality when he started writing. Handwriting is also an expression of the heart.

Writing with a brush adds another layer of meaning. Between motion and static, the meaning of words is full, just like a falling chess piece, which cannot be modified and can only be rewritten. Unlike later pen and pencil roles, it has objects that can be modified. The handwriting on the rice paper, when left, is the destination and is lasting.

In this way, my hand holding the brush always looks cautious. Especially when copying long poems, be careful with every word. This also honed the mind, and it is urgent. Only by practicing that silence can we finish it well and on time.

Falling in love with copying stems from its simplicity. A brush, an ink cartridge, a bowl of clear water and a piece of rice paper can be used to start writing and stop thinking at any time. Between square inches, pay close attention. Between frustration and frustration, Yang Yi. If the heart moves with the pen, there is no more thinking.

Keep a quiet spirit, take root in your heart and use your own way. An unhurried heart is the carrier of everything. There are too many trivial things in the sun and the moon, winding the heart into a rope. Sometimes I'm in a hurry, sometimes I'm lonely. The true inner peace and tranquility is still one's practice in daily life.

Messy trifles will disturb our hearts like spring breeze, but the determination of plants to grow in spring will not waver. Just like a plant, it has the power to grow quietly and is not affected by external objects or emotions. Only by calming yourself down can you feel the fragrance of daily life.

The fine print on the paper, one grain at a time, is neither too big nor too small, and it looks very comfortable. The overflow of emotions is safe in concentration. Look at the charm of black characters on a white background, which is heavy and calm that all kinds of colors can't replace. The fine print has been done, and when it is fragrant, it adds a quiet and comfortable feeling.

I read a line of ink-colored poems, and the sound of the ancient pipa came from my ears, crisp and tinkling, like water drops in a mountain stream, with the sound of nature in the valley. Many beautiful artistic conceptions need a quiet mind to perceive. The pace can be hurried, but the heart can't be chaotic.

Thousands of worlds, thousands of lives. If you lose your mind, you will get angry. If you are angry, you will easily lose your harmony. Only by practicing meditation can you feel at ease. No matter how big the difficulty is, it can be solved step by step, not confused.

Copying is my favorite way. Copying classics is a good time to review. "Review the past and learn the new", perhaps in repeated copying, the truth and profound meaning in the poem will be more understood. "Reading a book a hundred times is self-evident." The brush in my hand, the poem I wrote, the elegance of which is already there. It is a great pleasure to understand the meaning of the characters in the pen with snacks.

Keep a clean heart and look at everything calmly. Writing a pen, writing a poem and copying are just one of the ways. There are many things about closed doors. Even sitting quietly cross-legged and staring out the window in a daze are all good ways to keep quiet.

Remember it's too full. When your heart is full of chores, there is no gap to perceive. The brush in your hand needs to be removed after it is filled with ink. Because it is too full, it is easy to print paper and lose character. Messy, after all, not as plain and clean, pleasing to the eye.

Spending your free time on useless things is actually practicing yourself. Zhuangzi said: "If it is useless, it will be useful." I sharpen my writing in spring. The spring breeze at that time, secretly observing the window. The breath of spring on the earth was gradually introduced into the pen tip, and the fine print in the pen came to life. Besides black and white, it has a gorgeous interior color.

I have carefully read what I have painstakingly written. The handwriting is beautiful. Like an ordinary family woman, she walked out of her garden with a basket of vegetables, comely and handsome. Look at the thick makeup of rouge powder, and then taste the beauty of an elegant painter. At this time, both heavy makeup and light makeup are suitable.

But it turned out that it was the ink in my heart that bloomed with compassion. I remember learning to write Chinese calligraphy when I was a child. I like to count the circles with red strokes by the teacher, which means that the pens on the square paper are well written. When I was a child, I saw vermilion between black and white.

Days, romance is grand, but the heart is suitable for raising in a quiet place. If you lose your eyes and panic, you will lose the stars in your hand. The real owner is clear. I like to read a person's handwriting and then read her signature, which is actually three words: "ordinary people." Such a person is a master. When you reach a certain height, you can't keep up with others for a long time.

Rice paper turns yellow in spring. With the aura of old objects, it is clear that there are not many Xuan papers for many years, how can they have their own inheritance? Things, when quiet, have their own atmosphere. Xuan paper, quietly, just waiting for my pen.

Spring is full, and the sun and the moon follow it to the depths. My handwriting has also become a mark in a roll of time. I like silence, whether it is time or handwriting. I stopped trying, but I wrote more easily. Some things are not good or bad by strength.

Long life, too many experiences. We can find a useless thing to fill the lost mood, and it should be useful. Although the piano, chess, calligraphy and painting are useless things, they have opened up a road to the Peach Blossom Garden in our hearts, which is enough to make us happy.

Quiet is not external, but our inner rhyme. There are also troubles in the mountains, and there are practices in downtown areas. I use a pen and ink color to welcome the spring breeze. It looked at me, a handsome one. I saw it, a breeze. Very good.

Brush on rice paper and walk slowly. The pendulum struck, and time went by little by little. Stop writing and look out the window. This is a rare fine weather.

A quiet mind, a quiet life of classic prose II. The classic prose that my heart yearns for in the quiet years.

A simple heart, a leisure. I don't want to be prosperous, and I don't need to grieve for autumn and hurt spring. This long time is quiet and peaceful, which is the grace of the years. I will cultivate my mind and cultivate my nature forever. Welcome to read the classic beautiful text-quiet years, what my heart wants.

In the depths of the years, I sat quietly in a corner, in the noise of a season, I was dreaming alone. In the vast sea of people, it moved the meeting again and again. The warm current blows, the heart whispers, the pen becomes a poem, the years are clear, and the heart goes away.

Independent of the vast world, running in the endless world, relaxing your mind, you are the whole world. Open my heart, I take the noise of the world as the scene. Putting your hands together means listening to the longing of nature and sitting on the floor, which means turning yourself into a tiny dust, a light cloud, or a quiet breeze. Quietly melt your heart and soul in this empty time, and let the gentle wind calmly pass through his forehead and brow, through years, through seasons and through endless emptiness. Perhaps, in this way, indifference will naturally become ordinary.

Over the years, things change; Life is like a month, with gains and losses. A pen, a piece of paper, a picture, and a pen and ink moisten the world of mortals. In the complex era, who is the passer-by of the ink fragrance in Iraq's heart and who is the amorous feelings between Iraq's eyebrows? Life-long endless practice, in the dark, everything seems to be providence. This is fate, and I have deep feelings for the river of forgetting the year. Is the port that stops in my life still full of fireworks?

Heaven and human beings are destined to be one, and they can tell more in silence than in sound. Meaning, romantic, slightly drunk hazy. Don't feel sorry for this, don't be sad and happy at this moment. Drink a cup of tea, that kind of soothing and gentle, crystal clear charm, quietly overflow your heart. At this moment, I can recall the past, I can also look forward to the future, I can also empty my heart, be honest with my nature, and then I can laugh easily.

Once upon a time, I gently placed my urgent soul, wrote down my pen, and wandered around flatly. When the shadow of the tree is broken, I listen to the rain outside the carved window and beat the banana flowers. I don't know if it is the bright moon in Qin Dynasty, the autumn night in Han Palace or the light of the smoky moon in the Six Dynasties. I drank lightly and poured slowly, and I was intoxicated by the flowers. Or, choose an ethereal night with flowers and moons by the riverside, study agarwood ink painting, read a book, sigh a tree, leave a thousand trees, and let the echoes of past dynasties flow in the wind.

Treat life with a dull heart, and look at the knots left by years like clouds in the sky, and they will roll up and relax. At this time, the feeling of beauty or ugliness will come to mind, because they are indifferent, so they can be calm.

Willow Bridge, ancient road Gu Xiang, pavilions, spotless, embossed, unclear crowds, drifting away, scattered in the depths of time. I just like this kind of scenery, just like the simplicity and simplicity of water.

Hurried through the flowers, lazy to look back; This reason is partly because of the ascetic monk, and partly because of who you used to be. The breeze blew, the keys played, the melody was long, and I was drunk. My affection, can Ike know? How can I know I miss you when the geese leave their voices and the sand trees brush their faces? The world of mortals, I just want to have a drunken dream.

Holding a roll in hand, leaning against the window, the winding path is faint, what is dusk? I have been disappointed, I have been sad, I have been fascinated, and I have learned to be indifferent and follow my heart. The moon is bright in the sky, the autumn water is condensed, the feelings are close at hand, and the heart is mumbling. Maybe love is unfinished, maybe the time is not yet, and it is hard to give up when the time comes.

The dark night sky, Lin Qiu astringent, dotted with fragrant teas, a clear word, the smoke all over the city, floating and scattered, quiet and elegant. Store a pen and ink fragrance, dip it in a charm, let the branches of Shaoguang extract rouge fragrance, and quietly aftertaste it in the soft and shallow rhyme. Mei Wen

Deep feelings and self-intoxication, tenderness like water, ritual like a dream, low eyebrows and jokes, this kind of heart belongs to this season, only for one person. When the moon is bright and the wind is clear, you look back and smile, and you are obsessed with me in Mo Yun.

A flower and a world, a leaf and a bodhi, a pure land, a smile and a dusty fate, calm down and open a lotus flower in your heart.

Repeatedly, time goes by, intoxicated, and I don't know my way home. Iraqis can know whether this quiet time is exactly what I want in my heart.