Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Weather inquiry - Historical Echoes
Historical Echoes
1. Echoes of History
Okay~~ I will recommend some materials to you! You can integrate it according to your specific requirements!
1: "Zhaojun's departure from the fortress is sad. She has traveled far away in the dust of the road. A branch of pear blossoms with spring rain soaked her charming face, which became even more desolate after being lonely. Destiny trampled on her flowery dream, But with her alluring appearance, she melted away the bloody storm of a nation and opened the door to peace!" - Wang Zhaojun
2: With a long sword on her waist, her mind is full of fantasy, traveling across the Central Plains, asking questions from the sky! land. Finally, he threw himself into the Miluo River, causing the river there to stir up the waves of the Three Gorges! ——Qu Yuan
3: Tao Qian who leisurely picks chrysanthemums in the peach blossom garden; Liu Yuxi who lives in a shabby room and enjoys himself; Zhou Dunyi who loves lotus and loves lotus like crazy; Wei Zheng who speaks bluntly and satirizes; and who has been shepherding sheep for nineteen years. Su Wu. .They all once served in officialdom, and were used to seeing swords and swords, and getting used to filth and decadence. "Principle penetrates the heart and soul, and loyalty fills the bone marrow." They have left an eternal echo in the long river of history!
I feel that the echo of history is to write about people or things in history to inspire and educate our future generations! ! ! Thank you, literati. Let me recommend some materials to you!
I feel that the echo of history is to write about the inspiration and education of some people or things in history for our future generations, and to travel far away from home in the dust of the road; Ailian is so drunk and infatuated Zhou Dunyi and Su Wu, who had been shepherding sheep for nineteen years, stirred up the waves of the Three Gorges in the river there. Finally, he threw himself into the Miluo River and melted the bloody storm of a nation: wearing a long sword on his waist!
1. I am used to being dirty and decadent. After I was lonely, I became even more deserted and lonely, full of whims. Fate trampled on her flowery dream! You can integrate it yourself according to the specific requirements. They all once occupied officialdom and traveled across the Central Plains. The truth is deep in their hearts: "Zhaojun's departure is sad!" ; Wei Zheng, who is outspoken and sarcastic; Liu Yuxi, who is contentedly living in a shabby room, opens the door to peace! ! "——Wang Zhaojun
2!——Qu Yuan
3. Loyalty and righteousness fill the bones." It has left an eternal echo in the long river of history. I am used to seeing the flash of swords and shadows. A branch of pear blossoms and the spring rain soaked her charming face. She asked questions about the sky and the earth, but she used her alluring face. : Tao Qian leisurely picking chrysanthemums in the Peach Blossom Spring 2. The original text of the Echo of History text
Echo Author: In the empty chaos, there are echoes of footsteps flashing the hot flames of power when stepping into the traps woven by countless languages. The weak will leans over to watch in the scattered wishes. From this morning's boring wish, a little comfort grows on the cold stone bars. We move forward amidst the flying laughter. The harvest of every laughter lifer Seasons often decorate the dark, numb and damp place in the midst of celebrations. We keep trekking slowly, obeying the sound of destiny, knocking heavily on the door of the body, constantly testing the meaning of our original promise. The history of your smile also proves your fragile past. In the smoke of silence that keeps writing, it's like seeing a child walking past the door with a dirty puppy. Unblocked thoughts are running through the painful cracks in the head, and those injured desires are always worrying about you. The souls that are tied to the two ends of the time tunnel are tired after escaping the siege of chaos. The heavy shackles on the bat wings that flutter in the darkness give you the ultimate wish. Look up at the fragments of light and its story. Sometimes the growth of things that seem so insignificant has another set of mature codes. They are completely submerged in the dark mud or the smelly liquid. Today, there is a record about you in my body, like the flowers blooming on the earth and dotted in the warm spring. Those rumors that were spread have lost their original innocence and shyness, showing the dizziness of pornography and the remaining boredom. They stand on the bank of the flowing river, hunched over each other's remaining bones with their hands, waiting for the best time to drift with the flow. It is now noon, dusk and night. Countless birds fly out from the felt cloth that is wrapped around the body. Doves and crows mix and cross above the flat chest. There is always smoke surrounding the moment of silence. The moment of confusion, the mind is numb. Birds are chirping everywhere. The whirling sound is like the whine of a bleeding wound. Turning over dusty books, the past events alternate. The romance in the book is as melancholy as the gloomy weather. The fatigue of the eye contact is like a penguin slowly crawling across the clean snow in the intoxicated and quiet moment. The voice has become hoarse. Snowflakes fill the sky. Weak nerves seek footprints on the snow that are still warm. They wait in their nests for the darkness to surround them and drown them. No matter where your hands have pointed, no matter how you sob in vain above the bird's corpse. The energy of the night will bury so many beautiful naked bodies. The small branches on the soil slope will sway with the wind to explain the dark secret style. Just like the songs that pass away with the wind, they will be injected into the city bricks left by history. We will still make our footsteps ring. The sound of stepping in the body that has long been dried, the sound of stepping under the lingering clock, the fragrance of sadness woven by countless beautiful words, my heart no longer longs for it - he watched the white sheep eating slowly on the green grass. Walking.
He was sitting lazily on the edge of a dark forest. The breeze stirred the raindrops on the trees, dripping coldly onto his head.
He sang in a low voice to the *** on the sheep's neck. He held a piccolo and played it in response to the sound of gurgling water.
He sang, blew, and thought leisurely; he sighed slightly; his hot tears flowed silently. 2. Should it be as sweet as a kiss? Should there be a kiss as sweet as honey? some? ... where? ... "The sea there", countless waves, vertical, horizontal, spread, folded, turning, rolling... I am in this wave, where is she? ... I also seemed to see her, with her rose lips and white jade body... But my eyesight was too blunt and I couldn't see her face, so she was bathed in tears of shame and buried silently in the dark woods! I really can't see through you, I really can't see through you! I don’t want you to say anything to me in the strong wind; I am also very weak and cannot hook the crocodile’s gills, cannot penetrate the crocodile’s nose, cannot make it beg me, cannot make it flatter me; I just ask, where is she? "Where?" the echo said.
Alas! Water in the creek, who are you showing your charming eyes to? Boring grass, why do you make clothes for the tomb every year? Let’s go? ——Stay! —— Live? ——Go! ——This side is an old grave, and below it are the bones of the dead. There is a new grave, and below are the bones of the dead. you! ——What about you? "What about you?" - came the reply.
Flows silently; He sighs slightly; He thinks leisurely; He still plays and sings: He also holds a piccolo and plays it whiningly in response to the sound of the gurgling water. ; He was also singing in a low voice to the strings on the sheep's neck. The breeze blew the raindrops on the trees, dripping coldly onto his head; he was still sitting lazily on the edge of the dark woods.
He was still full of desire, watching the white sheep eating and walking slowly on the lazy green grass. 3. The original text of the Echo of History text
Echo author: The echo of footsteps flashes in the empty chaos, the hot flame of power steps into the trap woven by countless languages, the weak will is scattered by the desire Lying down to watch, from this morning's dull wish, a little comfort grows on the cold stone bars. We move forward amidst the flying laughter. The harvest season of every laughter career is often decorated with darkness in the joy. The numb and damp land, we keep trekking slowly, listening to the sound of destiny, knocking heavily on the door of the body, constantly testing the meaning of our original promise, the history of your smile also proves your fragile past, in the smoke of silence that is constantly being written. Just like seeing a child walking past the door with a dirty puppy, unblocked thoughts are running through the painful cracks in the head, and those injured desires are always worried about it, tying you to the two ends of the time tunnel. The shuttle soul is tired after escaping from the surrounding chaos. The bat wings fluttering in the darkness give you the ultimate wish. The heavy shackles put on it look up at the fragments of light. Its telling sometimes seems so insignificant. The growth of things. There is another set of mature codes, they are completely submerged in the dark mud or the smelly liquid. Today, in my body, there is a record about you, like the earth blooming and the flowers dotted in the warm spring. Those rumors that spread have lost their original meaning. The innocent and shy look shows the dizziness of eroticism and the remaining boredom. They stand on the bank of the flowing river, holding each other's remaining bones with their hands bent, waiting for the best time to drift with the current. It is noon, dusk and night. Birds fly out from the felt cloth that is wrapped around the body. Doves and crows mix and move across the flat chest. In the quiet moments, there is always smoke surrounding the chaotic moments. The heart is confused and numb. Everywhere is like the call of birds. The sound of circling is like the cry of a bleeding wound. Randomly flipping through the dusty books, the past events alternate. The romance in the book is as melancholy as the gloomy weather. The fatigue of the eye contact is like a penguin slowly gliding across the clean snow in the intoxicated and quiet moment. The voice is hoarse, like the snowflakes filling the sky. The weak nerves are there. Seeking the warm footprints in the snow, they wait in their nests for the darkness to surround them and drown them. No matter where your hands have pointed, no matter how you sob in vain over the bird's carcass, no matter how many beautiful things the energy of the night wants to bury. The small branches naked on the soil slope sway with the wind to explain the dark secret style. Just like the songs that pass away with the wind, they will be injected into the city bricks left by history. We still make the sound of our footsteps in the bodies that have long been dried. The sound of stepping is surrounded by the lingering clock, and the fragrance of sadness is woven by countless beautiful words. My heart no longer longs for him. He watched the white sheep eating and walking slowly on the green grass.
He was sitting lazily on the edge of a dark forest. The breeze stirred the raindrops on the trees, dripping coldly onto his head.
He sang in a low voice to the *** on the sheep's neck. He held a piccolo and played it in response to the sound of gurgling water.
He sang, blew, and thought leisurely; he sighed slightly; his hot tears flowed silently.
2. Should it be as sweet as a kiss? Should there be a kiss as sweet as honey? some? ... where? ... "The sea there", countless waves, vertical, horizontal, spread, folded, turning, rolling... I am in this wave, where is she? ... I also seemed to see her, with her rose lips and white jade body... But my eyesight was too blunt and I couldn't see her face, so she was bathed in tears of shame and buried silently in the dark woods! I really can't see through you, I really can't see through you! I don’t want you to say anything to me in the strong wind; I am also very weak and cannot hook the crocodile’s gills, cannot penetrate the crocodile’s nose, cannot make it beg me, cannot make it flatter me; I just ask, where is she? "Where?" the echo said.
Alas! Water in the creek, who are you showing your charming eyes to? Boring grass, why do you make clothes for the tomb every year? Let’s go? ——Stay! —— Live? ——Go! ——This side is an old tomb, and below it are the bones of the dead. There is a new tomb, and below are the bones of the dead. you! ——What about you? "What about you?" - came the reply.
Flows silently; He sighs slightly; He thinks leisurely; He still plays and sings: He also holds a piccolo and plays it whiningly in response to the sound of the gurgling water. ; He also sang in a low voice to the strings on the sheep's neck. The breeze blew the raindrops on the trees and dripped coldly onto his head; he was still sitting lazily on the edge of the dark woods.
He was still full of desire, watching the white sheep eating and walking slowly on the lazy green grass. 4. Listen to the echo of history - an essay on reading "World History"
"Books are the nest of the spirit and the Zen bed of life." This is what Yu Qiuyu said, and it is also what I feel in my heart Portrait.
Books are ellipses that shorten time, commas that shorten geographical areas, or semicolons that stretch paragraph after paragraph. In short, books will be the best friends in my life. Take a bird's-eye view of ancient and modern times, at home and abroad, and carefully study the value of history. You will find that different people look at history from different angles. The more superficial people will think that history is just a fairy tale book suitable for all ages; the slightly more knowledgeable people will think that history is just a book of fairy tales suitable for all ages. It is a "Sikuquanshu"; but I think history is a bottle of champagne, a colorful cheese, and my good teacher and helpful friend.
Throughout the time and space of history, the political storm in Italy made me understand the cruelty of politics; the war in the Middle East taught me about this world of conflicting interests; the German blitzkrieg of "Barbarossa" made me firmly Remember the principle of striking first to gain the upper hand. Yes, history is the mirror left to us by our predecessors, and it is the self-reflection written by our predecessors.
You see, none of the famous emperors in history succeeded because they were good at listening to the opinions of their ministers. Such as Tang Zong, Song Zu, a generation of genius Genghis Khan, and Emperor Wu of Han, etc.
On the contrary, tyrants like King Zhou who insisted on pursuing their own goals were rewarded with eternal criticism from people. Therefore, when we read history, we should not simply pay attention to the plot, but carefully ponder the causes and patterns of an event or the rise and fall of a dynasty.
To prevent the tragedy of history from repeating itself on us. Among the many historical stories I have read, please allow me to excerpt a fragment that I have a special liking for.
The name of this fragment is "The Catastrophe of the Jewish Kingdom". In 722 BC, the Assyrian emperor set foot on the land of Israel. They occupied the city of Samaria, and Israel suffered its first annihilation.
In 583 BC, the army of Nebuchadneh II once again surrounded Jerusalem. The resistance of the Jews was ineffective. Three years later, the Jewish nation suffered its second annihilation. The Babylonian army Jerusalem was washed with blood and all the prisoners of war were transported back to the country together, which became the famous "Babylonian Captivity". Despite this, the Jewish nation, which had gone through many hardships, did not lose confidence. With the efforts of batch after batch of Jews, they finally realized their dream of national restoration.
This story seems short, but the inspiration he gave me is like the spring water in the river, which will remain forever. Whenever I feel down or want to give up, I always remind myself, don’t give up. The Jewish people can get out of such a difficult situation, so what does my situation mean? Therefore, after reading this historical story, I always maintain an optimistic and progressive attitude.
History is the palace of ancient civilization; history is the echo from the ends of the earth. Let us read history, study history, and appreciate history! On January 1, 2022, Chen Yue from the sixth grade class of Liyuan Primary School. 5. An essay on ‘Walking in the Echoes of History’
Spring goes and spring comes back year after year, and flowers bloom and fall season after season. Along the river of youth, I persistently look for Zeus in my dream. Every time I look back, they are like bright stars, lighting up my eyes.
Yellow sand is flying all over the sky, and the afterglow of the setting sun fills the deserted ancient road. Wang Zhaojun held the pipa in his arms and walked out of the high wall of the palace with determined steps. Abandoning the country of parents, abandoning the tranquility of fallen leaves returning to their roots, "Once I go to the purple terrace and the desert, leaving only the green tombs facing the dusk?"
She used her thin body to block the Huns' thousands of troops, in exchange for the great man's peace.
Only Yan Zhen understands how those green hairs turned into white hair and then turned into the green graves. She was so righteous and had extraordinary mind and temperament. She endured humiliation and endured heavy burdens in order to rejuvenate the country and stabilize the country. She moved forward without fear of difficulties.
You have also galloped on the battlefield, "the horse is flying fast, and the bow is as frightening as the thunderbolt string". With the enthusiasm of "solving the affairs of the king and the world, winning the reputation before and after death", you recruit rebels and fight against the enemy. The Jin people regained their lost territory and captured the rebels among thousands of people. But what he got was that his official career was ups and downs, he was moved around, he was impeached many times and he lived at home. Although he was humble, he did not dare to forget about the country. Night after night, the green lights were like beans, sitting in his clothes, Xin Qiji's "Ten Theory" against the Jin Dynasty, and "Nine Discussions" about the situation. Unfortunately, none of these suggestions were adopted, and unfortunately gray hair occurred prematurely. It is true that "a general's reputation is ruined after a hundred battles, his tragedy is not fully understood, and his old friends are lost." Love your country and your country until death.
Ever since she married into the Zhao family, everyone expected Li Qingzhao to be a good wife who would take care of her husband and raise her children. However, she was versatile but not a popular actress. With the changes in the world, the separation and suffering of war, Yi An searched for his own happiness, but was always crushed by the dark reality and miserable. Not only the pain of her emotional life, but also the worry for the country pushed her into a deep sea of ??suffering. She was like a lonely boat drifting helplessly in the wind and waves. Born in troubled times, she is not a character like Xianglin's Wife written by Lu Xun; nor is she Du Shiniang who fights to the death. She used her overwhelming melancholy to peel off the cocoons and wrote many treasures of poetry, "I was born as a hero, and died as a ghost. I still miss Xiang Yu and refuse to cross the Yangtze River." What a weak woman, with countless lofty sentiments in her chest; what a husband among women, who worries about the safety of her family and country.
Some of them risked their lives in national calamity and married in the desert; some were galloping on the battlefield as old men; some spoke softly but worried about the world. As time goes by for thousands of years, their luster will not dim, but will become brighter. Like the twinkling stars in the night sky, they will always shine on our spiritual home, bake every moist heart, and illuminate every dark corner.
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