The wind is blowing.

In our daily study, work and life, everyone must have been exposed to prose, right? Essay is actually the idea of some events in daily life, which is captured in time and recorded at will. What kind of prose is classic? The following is a short article I compiled for you, which is for reference only and I hope it will help you.

It's windy outside the window 1, and there's never a lack of heat on a cold night, because neon lights are already with you.

The wind is blowing.

It's a little cold. Tight tight clothes, retract the warm bed. In winter and at night, the only thing that can warm people's hearts is this bed a few feet square.

I don't know when, summer passed innocently, and even autumn took me away from winter.

Just like you. I just don't know when it passed, and it is getting farther and farther away, so that there is no news now.

Did it snow there? It is said that it will snow heavily in the north at this time. Is there snow outside your window? Does it look nice? It must be beautiful, right? !

Is it still warm and sunny in your place? It is said that some places in the south are still under the scorching sun. Is there dazzling light coming in by your glass window? Is it hot? It must be warm, isn't it !

Where you are, or like where I am, there is no snow or sunset glow, and it is the same color from morning till night-gray, right? If so, did you feel a cold wind blowing from the window just now? Is it cold? It must be cold!

Snow, no chance to see; Warm sunshine and sunset glow, but no chance to feel it. It's all an excuse, you know?

Stay here, not because I know you are likely to be here, but because we have the best memories here. However, maybe you will never remember it.

The curtains are fluttering.

It's windy again

Will it blow on you?

In the afternoon, the branches and leaves of the old camphor tree swayed gently in the scorching sun, and a gentle and fragrant wind swept over the cheeks, causing the hair to dance.

The wind is blowing and the whole world is moving. Rice fields are like green waves, and wild flowers are stretching their waist branches. ...

It's like I'm on the other side of time, standing on the ferry of the wind, holding on. The wind blew away the fallen flowers. A fallen leaf brought by the wind carries a yearning and floats in the world of mortals. Quietly facing the wind, watching the sparkling and wrinkled face of the pond, watching the lotus swaying in the wind, the quiet beauty of confusion.

Time takes away the past like the wind, and like a pair of gentle hands, it erases all the pain for us, but it can't erase the memory. In the wind, memories surge, and a lonely desolation is like candlelight, shimmering and pale, more like our swaying dreams.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had seen an animation by Miyazaki Hayao called "The Wind is Blowing", which described a person who was loyal to his dream, made progress for it, was affectionate, waited and left. This is an idealist's sad song.

The film "The Wind Rises" transcends all previous works of Miyazaki Hayao, and based on real people, it expounds Miyazaki Hayao's own attitude towards life, love, politics, science and technology and the environment. But limited by the political environment and the expectations of neighboring countries and even the whole world for peace, how can aggression and peace be truly and transparently interpreted? Whether designing airplanes or artistic creation, how can we not survive crazily if we want to devote ourselves to creating the best works? However, along the way, what have you gained and lost, where can you calculate clearly? Just like Jiro in the film, in the end, only in his dream can he face his past and escape without reservation, but this sudden realization has long since passed away.

The big picture of life does not conflict with the small details of life. Whether painting or doing things, there is a big pattern and nuances, which is a picture of life. It's just that each of us, in the process of pursuing ideals and happiness, has been challenged countless times, just like people in the wind, how to choose? In the face of failure and cruelty, fate is like the wind, how to face it?

I think it's like the sentence in the movie: "The wind is blowing, we should try our best to live!" " "Yes, I must try to live.

Real life is when people are in the wind. Sometimes, you just do a persistent thing, and no matter how hard you try, you can't get what you want. Because the environment has resistance, but will life give up dreams because of the environment? Do you allow yourself to obey your fate on the grounds that you were born at the wrong time?

Many times, the wind has no intention of disturbing everything in this world, but in the face of the wind, some people panic, some people escape, and some people are fearless.

The wind is very strong, I remember "even if the wind is very strong, life will not give up." Suddenly I feel so shocked and powerful. Reach out, the wind caresses my fingertips, and my thoughts fly thousands of miles with the wind. I am here against the wind.

The wind is blowing. I stand here, looking at the desolation and barrenness outside. Life has long lost its original youth, and only this little memory is still wandering aimlessly in my heart. It's like yesterday, walking quietly on the road, your smile is like flowers, and I don't know how many wonderful times you have been intoxicated with.

Ah-the wind is blowing, no more birds stop on the curved branches, and the gentle sunshine falls into the whirlpool. Is the cloud decorated by it before nostalgia? Do you still remember that those abandoned raindrops and snowflakes have already become the deepest yearning and longing in the sky, far away but close at hand, but I can't touch them, and I can't imagine them.

At night, it is as cold as autumn water. How can you give up the waves that have not yet started in this vast sea of hearts, still bemoaning the turbulent tides in the past, or waiting for the frozen spring to flow slowly? You put the unfinished stone in my dream-I don't know how long it will take to see its original appearance.

The wind is very strong. I want you to walk quietly from here and linger here in the confusion of night, anxiety of day and silent parting. I didn't notice the shallow dreams and the long-lost truth. When we met, we didn't see each other. Only thoughts fill this empty box, and only this heavy memory fills our bags.

I can't predict your arrival, but I stay at this moment and keep praying for your arrival. Even though the mountains are high, I can't stop them. When you disperse the dark clouds, they bring sunshine and fragrance. If you don't come, I will be here, wiping the tears that fell on the broken bridge alone, picking a bunch of the most beautiful flowers in the world and burying them in the wind, expecting to send all my longing to the deepest part of your heart.

It's windy I've been listening to you carefully. I want to love, but I can't. To you, I am just a passer-by. Just another long and profound journey. Time is ruthless, time is old. I am like a fallen leaf in the wind. Although I fell down at this moment, I am still floating in your arms.

Sleep soundly until you wake me up again and let love start again.

Whether my figure has not been blown away in countless cycles, the autumn wind only rises for Iraqis, and no one knows the fragrance of fallen flowers. If this situation does not change, this ambition will not change.

If the wind blows, I hope your world will still be full of flowers, laughter, stars, magnificent and profound, quiet and peaceful, lucky and warm, and so on. When the autumn colors cover your footsteps with the wind, you will start again, as if your love is endless again and again.

On a windy morning, I opened the long floor-to-ceiling curtains and put the scattered mist on the hill. A ray of morning sun carrying thousands of hopes penetrates through layers of tulle and leaks on the dark yellow floor tiles. Pick up the coffee, lift your cheeks, and raise your mouth a little radian in the direction of the sun. The slightly cool wind brushed the cheeks, stirred up the hair and danced.

The wind is blowing. It's good to miss the sandstorm. It is autumn again. However, everything is different from the past.

I think I am on the other side of time. The infatuated wind blows the years like sand, drawing an ordinary piece of paper, so that the poetic leaves carry A Qiu and drift away in the world of mortals. Wandering silently in the bleak autumn dust, the shadow reflected by the glass is flustered and lonely in the misty clouds. Smoke locks the cold building, leaving sorrow several times, closing your eyes, and opening your eyes has disappeared.

Touched the beauty in autumn paintings, touched the emotional heart, made the tears faint, made the picture vivid, made the pen and ink sparkle, made poetry everywhere, and turned thinking into sand.

I have always been a sentimental woman. I am used to keeping every flower and grass in my heart, and I am often sad because of the flowering and falling of flowers and the reincarnation of trees. Often sitting on the windowsill is all morning, a cup of green tea is tasteless, and half a volume of poetry rots. Abstract: Writing, in a euphemistic mood this morning, is lying quietly in the thesis research room.

Occasionally, there is a story, a sentence, a few feelings, and the artistic conception euphemistically flies with the author's style. I often forget the time and place, and when I look up, I have the illusion of being separated from the world.

It is already bustling outside the window, and the back and forth hawking of merchants and vendors has revealed that the morning market has begun. In the gap between my window and the distance, Mr. Meng brought back glutinous rice, which evoked the taste buds that were still sleeping. The wind is blowing, and my thoughts turn into sand.

A trance, seems to have returned to that year. Just after beginning of autumn, the wind is still a fierce heat wave, mixed with a hint of early autumn. A gust of wind blows through the cornfield, smashing the leaves of the corn, and the ripe fragrance of the corn is sent to the noses of passers-by and squirrels looking for food through the wind. Then the war between man and mouse began in the cornfield. The little squirrel is an excellent guerrilla fighter, who specializes in dealing with impatient creatures like human beings. You come and go, fighting in the corn field, the most painful thing is corn, and there is not much left in a few days.

Finally, the owner's cat moved out, and the man, the mouse and the cat played a three-person motherfucker. Cats are good friends and partners of human beings, and occasionally they will be naughty and do things that drag their feet.

After beginning of autumn, the autumn wind gradually started, the weather turned cold, and everything began to enter the footsteps of reincarnation. Or yellow leaves sprout, or deciduous branches and leaves, or fallen flowers and fallen leaves.

The wind is blowing.

However, now that I am in a foreign land, I can't see that scene.

It's windy Essay 5- 1

The wind is very strong, at the sunrise window,

Read his "Crossing the Ocean to See You".

Love for the whole city,

It's funny, like,

When the wind blows, hyacinthus orientalis is in full bloom.

Laughing, tears wet my skirt and heart,

It's really interesting, when the hand that beats the handwriting,

Touch the cold and you can hear birds singing at the end of the world.

So, I don't have the courage to find someone,

Even, even the flower of love,

Everyone should bury his unrequited love in his heart.

Bury,

Even tombs are on the edge of cliffs.

Afraid of the cold world,

Suddenly the wind blew,

Blowing away the black soil crazily,

The coffin of love appeared.

So it stings,

Instantly spread the whole meridian, so,

Panic, my soul left me,

Walking out of the Stone Story of Qingjiang Gallery,

Overtakes Toyota in autumn,

Across the hot desert,

I went to the meditation room of Cui Yun Temple.

There, I will eventually become a monk.

When the first morning bell rang, I looked into the distance.

The empty meditation room of Cai Yun Temple,

Oh, how ridiculous, laughing,

Tears wet my skirt and heart.

The wind is blowing, the love of the whole city,

White hair.

two

Dusk, distant mountains

Daisy is in the sky, falling asleep.

You are a thin scholar, lonely,

Wandering, what are you looking for,

The corridor of history is still a sad memory.

The firefly is holding the lamp. Listen,

It doesn't matter if a bird steals two crops of rice.

This is just a grand banquet.

Soon, the day revealed all the secrets of the night,

Expose lovers in the valley to the river.

You said, take you away,

Go to the crescent moon spring where princess Gobi cries in the desert,

But you can't take away your deep nostalgia for the earth and mountains and rivers.

Sand city blown by the wind

Silence, or ruthlessness,

Everything is for love. Just stay on the horizon, never,

Points that will never intersect.

Years later, white-haired,

Looking ahead, at the foot of the mountain,

Lotus paved the altar,

You and I sit with our eyebrows down and talk about Zen.

three

Listen, the wind is blowing,

Shan Ye's dog tail flower,

Cunning trembling,

Trying to grow golden rice,

Kiss a woman's sickle frequently.

The wind said, don't be ambiguous,

Don't have a crying hug with the hot summer day.

It's dripping and wet.

Let's go, falling leaves are inevitable in the final analysis. Clouds don't,

No depression, falling leaves, sadness,

That's the affectation under Mulan tree. What did you say?/Sorry?

The most beautiful thing is the autumn in the beautiful heart.

Acacia leaves the end of the day.

At the end of the day,

Storm, no, parting is still sad.

Under Du Yingcheng, the word "wild goose" is continuous, in an instant.

Outside the moat, lotus seeds are old.

And I, I just want to,

Still the youngest daughter of a farmer in the mountains,

Carrying a bamboo basket,

Running and picking in the golden orchard,

Harvest. however

Mom, you didn't call me.

The wind is blowing. The footsteps of spring are getting closer and closer to us. We have just weathered the biting cold wind like silver needles. We should have enjoyed the soft and warm spring breeze, but we met the strong wind in early spring. The power of the wind is really not to be underestimated.

In the morning, what woke me up today was not the first ray of sunshine in the morning, but the cold cool wind. I slowly opened my eyes and found that the tidy bedroom was blown in a mess and the homework paper was "dancing" in the air. The open window "whipped" back and forth-blown to the windowsill by the wind. The curtain was blown like a female ghost in a long skirt by the wind, and the wind was "walking" in the room, making a frightening "whoa whoa whoa" sound. I was deeply shocked by this scene. I can't believe this is the masterpiece of the wind. At first, I even thought there were thieves in my house. I closed the window in a panic, and I was no longer in the mood to sleep. I'm ready to exercise. The strong wind pulled me straight back like a big hand behind me. I used to be as strong as a fly, but now I can't move my legs, I can't stand still, and my center of gravity seems to fall at any time. The streets are full of dust, the leaves are blown to the ground by the wind, and the trees have lost their former straightness and hardness. Like dough in the hands of a strong wind, it looks weak and wobbly.

In the face of disaster, once powerful human beings have become so small and helpless, but as long as we unite as one, the disaster will eventually pass and we will usher in the dawn!

Is it windy? We are not afraid!

The wind is blowing. Prose 7 "Some people, without looking, are still in the dim light. Some people want to stay, but the canoe has passed Chung Shan Man. "

Miss Yu Rou's body is always full of the fragrance of roses. No matter where I see her, the fragrance will not change. The rain was soft and holding a bunch of roses, and the pedestrians on the road slowed down, and the fragrance of flowers filled the whole alley.

The bluestone board is covered with moss, and the life in the alley is full of noise and anxiety, leaving traces of people coming and going on the bluestone board. There is only a girl in a long white dress, drifting away.

The wind scattered the hair of Ruan Yu's shawl, and the tip of the hair crossed the fleeting time. The sunset glow is in the horizon, but the girl never looks back.

"Only the fireworks at that moment were the most shocking."

In the alley where long skirts are dancing, flowers are flowing freely, and the sunset glow on the horizon is getting more and more beautiful, but the girl is still moving forward. Everything will pass, if it is just a beautiful dream. This will be a beautiful dream. In the dream, there are rose gardens, flowers around the nose, and castles in fairy tales.

The sunset cleared and the sun finally set. The light rain continues. Raindrops drip down the eaves, flow into puddles, and make a nice sound.

Roses have lost their vitality, but the fragrance of flowers is still floating, petals fall, silently fall into puddles and float in them. Ups and downs, erratic.

The rain has stopped.

The evening breeze caresses, with the greetings of the sinking moon. I don't know where the sweet bell rang, and the train whistle rang in the distance. Little stars are twinkling.

The moonlight shone faintly in the alley and the wind was blowing.

"The same is the moonlight, the same is the lamp across the mountain, the stars all over the sky. It's just that people can't see it, hanging like a dream. "

Once upon a time, I lived in a fictional era. Every day, I am immersed in my own world except for studying, textbooks, eating and drinking Lazar. At that time, people were so simple, thinking about my high school appearance, college appearance and work appearance. I think maybe I have two friends who even make an appointment to go to the bathroom together every day. In college, we sang together, traveled together, clubbed together, pestered their boyfriends to invite them to dinner, and didn't feel like a light bulb at all.

So simply we grow up, grow up, we have new friends, in the new environment, we strive to adapt, make ourselves what we want to be, be strong, don't like crying, don't like fantasy, and vaguely force ourselves to understand, don't be silly, it's too early to dream.

Go out to play with new friends. In spring, buy yourself a wreath and take photos with your friends. I feel that everything is so beautiful when I was young. All things that hurt spring and grieve autumn have nothing to do with me. Gradually fell in love with one thing, fell in love with a musical instrument, and signed up for class at one go. After studying for a week, I solemnly told myself, "Some things can be learned well if you don't like them." Then I skipped all classes in despair. Try to tell yourself again: "Is it something else I like?" One day I saw a photo of a retro micro-single on the internet, which was particularly beautiful. The shape of the camera made me forget that it was used to take pictures, and then I scrimped and saved. I bought one for myself and told myself, "I love photography." Then I got used to sketching by myself everywhere, sometimes with my friends, helping me practice my hands by the way, and then I went back to continue my studies, expecting the satisfaction of my friends.

Looking back after a long walk, I think reading thousands of books is as important as taking Wan Li Road. People should sharpen their minds. People who only care about the road are too wild, so they take out their library cards left in the corner and start stuffing them into books. Really, the things in the book are just like Buddhism. They are profound and profound, and they feel more and more insignificant. So I gradually find myself growing up. Don't forget your active attitude.

We have unconsciously come to the present along the road of imagination, and we are more and more deeply aware that as long as we don't change our original intention, we will not change. The person who is still as pure as water, no matter after five, ten or twenty years, will return to that age if he changes his hairstyle at the age of 18, 23 or 28.

Life is so simple, like the wind. So we live the life we want in the breeze.

The wind is blowing. Essay 9 1

I have to take care of the past. On windy days, I won't panic or panic.

There is a leaf, yellow, folded in a corner, warm and entered the corner.

Wind chimes sway, and autumn sounds don't hurt your eyes.

Tell me, in the wind last night, did the enthusiasm spilled all over the floor go out of the window, and did the lovely bird have any traces of flying, flashing in the waiting darkness.

2

It's windy Who heard the language of wings, saw the color of the wind and caught her cold little hand?

There should be a picture, beautiful, hanging on the top of the years. The increasingly fragrant fruit in the long thoughts replaces the dream of spring, running all the way and smearing all the way.

It's a blank for me. I filled it with sweat, and then I crossed it with a boat with a mark on it. That's the road to autumn. Ripples go round and round. I know it's warm winter on the other side.

three

Remember, in autumn, hope is red but not falling.

Through them, our past was very peaceful and quiet.

This season, I fell in love with a chrysanthemum, lost in the red maple, and walked with my feet in the same direction.

On the Yuan Shang, the barren land is full of sadness, and the moonlight is affectionate and cold. I heard some footsteps trudging up the hill. Their enthusiasm melted the snow on the plateau, so winter easily gave way to spring.

This season, the most suitable for holidays, say love in person. I'm still a little late, the leaves have fallen for a long time, and what I met was the sadness of the wind. However, it is not far from the fruit.

four

Through the gap of time, I found some happiness and met some melancholy.

I used to plant myself very hard and grew up in the hinterland of spring. But the wind and rain beat the soil and seeds from time to time. I know those fine varieties came out in the wind and rain. They seize the wings of the wind, write their confidence in the sky, and together with the sun, breed the happiness and warmth of the earth.

five

Sing a song that loves autumn. Write your own words, compose your own music and sing your own songs.

Find a way to sing, and the day of chorus is not far away. Those low-pitched leaves have returned to the bass and entered the roots of life, letting us know that the temperature will not be low next spring.

I have turned my sad eyes from the windowsill back to my heart and returned to the warehouse like rice. The horse that didn't want to stop all the way began to rein in and check it. In the season without cliffs, snow is the coldest and soberest flower for us.

Because, I always understand: when the snow melts, spring comes.

Because, I always know that when spring comes, autumn is not far away.

Falling notes, like sweat, will be held high above our heads in the next season. We call it harvest, and we call it beautiful fruit.

It's windy Essay 10 thinks it's calm enough and really doesn't matter. The moment he woke up, he was still hiding in the bathroom, sitting on the ground and hugging himself, letting the water droplets wet his whole body. And those water marks, along the naked body slide, dripping on the ground.

I was heartbroken and drunk unconscious. I was conscious when I first drank brain fragments, but I was weak all over. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but desolation, and then fell asleep.

The stars twinkle from the horizon, and we can say goodbye in another way. Stop, I don't know what expression to use, how to say it, and what tone to use. Everything, just in vain, just slim.

Just be an ostrich, lock yourself up, read quietly and be happy. Lock up your heart, bury your thoughts with all your busyness, don't think, don't ask, don't look, so you can not think, don't think.

Not very brave and scared. A little worry locked in my heart may be alleviated in the next season. Far away, where, how to leave and arrive. The road I can choose is my own persistence and firmness.

On that day, looking at your side face, when I love you, it is warm and windy.

It's snowing. This is a parting gift. The thick snow is outside the window, but for your comfort, I have been reluctant to look at my face. I still love you, but I don't want to admit it, or I was too drunk to control my consciousness when I admitted it. Fortunately, I didn't call anyone, fortunately, fortunately, I was too drunk to dial the phone.

At five or six o'clock in the morning, I opened the window in the cold wind of MINUS ten degrees and let the cold wind pour into my body and soul, but I still couldn't hold back. Pushing open the window, I stumbled by the bridge, my stomach churned and my tears fell. Here, I shed tears together, grieve together, give up, and never see you again in my life.

Sitting back in the car, there is still an hour and a half's drive. I feel groggy. I only know that I am surrounded by strangers' shoulders, but I can rely on them. Wake up, it's time to stop, look up and look at strangers around you with regret. Seeing him gently move his shoulder, I knew what it was like to be crushed by myself for an hour and a half, but he didn't move and gave me a support on the winding road.

"Thank you!"

Looked at him seriously and said, he smiled and turned and drowned at the end of the airport. Thank you, stranger. I don't even know your name. In the sea of wandering people, it gave a wandering woman a moment's warmth.

Thank you, the physical pain has improved a lot, and there is still a way to go. You must ask yourself to be strong, persistent and firm. Without support and shoulders, we can only fight and work hard with the only surviving dignity in our hearts.

Before you put your body in such danger, you should know how to cherish and reflect. Take good care of yourself, girl. You can be your own umbrella. You are the only source you can rely on. Everyone is a traveler in the journey of life. No one will accompany you for life. The only thing you can rely on and trust is yourself.

Only by loving yourself and being responsible for yourself can we complete the scenery in life and become a passer-by, gorgeous and calm.

When I humbly look into your eyes, I tell you that I like you. The bottom of my heart is a kind of retreat and shallowness, so I loved you. The wind comes from the heart, but it passes through Yuan Ye and jungle, mountains and deserts, and wanders in the sea, unable to find the way home, and I don't know when it will come back.

For two days, I always thought I had put it down and thought it didn't matter. Looking back, I found myself forgetting things. I found myself madly immersed in work and books. I found myself moving forward without any emotional numbness. I just know how much my heart cares and hurts, and how much I hate my drunkenness.

If there is no licentiousness and connivance, there will be no more wandering along the river alone in the cold wind at night. Cut my hair short, cut off my troubles, and finally let myself try to give up completely, but I was dragged into years and nightmares.

Are you really tired? I slept for nearly 17 and 18 hours, and I dare not rely on and relax myself when I am around you. It turns out that I still work so hard that I dare not let my guard down a little. Therefore, your love is an illusion, just self-deception.

I once believed in you and met you, so I have no worries in my heart, so I am at ease. At this moment, I really want to leave, I really want to see you far away and never hear from you again. I'm just tired. It turns out that I always love myself the most.

We should be glad that in the less beautiful times, we finally realized that we still love ourselves the most and want to love ourselves the most.

I just can't fathom your heart, just like I can't fathom other people's hearts many times. If you don't want it, why bother? Just to conquer the pleasure of that moment, purely for human desires. Clearly love is not the people around you, but always pretend to be lofty to despise and surpass others.

Winter is pure, but the flowers on the windowsill are somewhat withered, just like giving you joy. There was a moment when I really couldn't let go, thinking it would be painful to let go, but I watched him die a little bit, but there was nothing I could do. Heart, will also be numb, will wither, really to the moment of parting, but also turn a blind eye, but also meet strangers.

Calm your emotions and calm the waves in your heart. It just takes time. I believe I can do it well, I can.

Strive to be the woman who can support herself and is no longer afraid of being displaced in the sea.

Perhaps, goodbye, the face has changed color, the season has changed, it is better to forget each other and smile.

Maybe, maybe the next trip will be to the south, or I really want to go to Nanjing. I don't know if I can do it, but I feel very hopeful. Maybe one day, when fate comes, you can go.

Still blurred, like in the wind.

Goodbye is still beautiful, goodbye is still sunny.

Another snow may meet souls who can comfort each other.

Buried in the snow, buried in the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, I'll pick you up.

On that day, the wind blew, and it was joy!