Years are quiet, and books are the most beautiful 800 words.

Years are subtle, silent but bring people growth; Years are subtle, but there are many steps; The years are subtle, meticulous but touching.

I walked alone on the path and let the sun spread a layer of gold on the earth. The sky is blue and foggy clouds are floating. I admit that agility and elegance deeply infected me. Thinking of the past years, my eyes turned reddish and I smiled bitterly. I want to cry, but I don't cry.

I sat quietly in the classroom, listening to the teacher. It's very quiet around, and I can only hear breathing at most. Perhaps to break the sleepy and boring classroom atmosphere, the English teacher told a joke and the whole class burst into laughter. The deskmate whispered, "This teacher laughs so cheap." Then laugh wildly. I didn't laugh, but looked at the English teacher thoughtfully. The teacher is really old, but I can still vaguely see the English teacher's age from his wrinkled face around his eyes. The teacher's figure has long been distorted, and there are too many burdens on you, so that the teacher can't stand the suffering of years.

That night, the English teacher took his son to school, teaching him homework and managing the discipline of self-study at night. Perhaps the child didn't study hard and the English teacher scolded his son. The classmates secretly slandered him: poor boy. However, I saw the children's happiness from the English teacher's mother's loving eyes. A working mother will never forget her children. How happy was she when she was a child? English teacher's wrinkled eyes suddenly become so beautiful, and mother is the greatest. Indeed, I have tasted it. The teacher is old, but he doesn't seem to be.

I remembered my days in Yingkou. At that time, I was young and didn't understand many things. But I still vaguely remember that I waved goodbye to my classmates outside the kindergarten; The big kang where the northeast people often sleep; Because of gluttony, I ran to the street; Aunt took my cousin and me home from school and bought us popsicles. Explore the deserted second floor of your home; Walking backwards on the light gray stone road; My mother and I went to eat roast chicken. My uncle who bought roast chicken also gave me a bunch of grapes. I want to forget those days. I even forgot the time and place, even my own house. However, those things are still in the depths of my heart, lingering. Childhood is short, but beautiful. Those good days slipped away from me so quickly. By the time I remembered to look back, they had disappeared without a trace.

Years are quiet, I have always understood.