Understanding of hard life

Understanding of hard life 1 "I am so hard, I am so miserable", many people in the world often say so. However, if you want to be successful, you should never say "I am so hard" from now on.

Successful people also use the word "effort". But the use method is different from that of ordinary people. In interviews with successful people, we will find that they always say "thank you".

The difference between "I am so hard" and "I am so hard on you" is far from the result.

Compared with people who always say that they are "very hard", those who say "thank you for your hard work" truly understand the meaning of hard work and truly feel the meaning and value of hard work.

The more people who can say "thank you", the more they can get the support of others, and at the same time have a grateful mood for everything around them.

Understanding of hard life II. Teacher's love touched a lifetime; The teacher's teaching will benefit you for life; He is the source of vitality and the force of life on our life path. For you, my dear teacher, I have endless gratitude.

When we were still ignorant, you taught us' A' with motherly hands. O.E. When we are at a loss, you become a direction indicator to guide us in the right direction. You've done too much for us, but you get very little in return.

Teachers are mud, which provides a place for flowers and trees to grow; Teachers are the roots, so that plants can get adequate nutrition; The teacher is a string of tears that turn into blessings and float away with us. But once upon a time, how many sincere blessings did we give our teachers?

We will send a blessing to our friends, we will send a blessing to those who have helped us, and we will even send a blessing to a kind stranger, but why not give a sincere blessing to the hard-working teacher?

How many white hairs did the teacher leave for us and how many wrinkles did he leave for himself? How many words have you left for the teacher and how many things have you done for the teacher? The teacher may say some harsh words to the students, but a few words are for his own benefit! There must be countless complaints from students about their teachers, but how many complaints can be proved to be "completely correct" and based on facts after the baptism of time?

Teacher, you are an excellent soul engineer, who has trained a number of outstanding students and become the successors of the motherland. Your selfless dedication, like a candle, illuminates others, but burns yourself; You also gave others a gorgeous appearance like a spring silkworm, but you gave yourself life; You are like chalk, leaving profound knowledge but sacrificing yourself; Like gardeners, you are not afraid of the wind and the sun, and have cultivated the flowers of our motherland.

Teacher, a thousand words can't express my love for you, so let them be summed up in one sentence: Teacher, you have worked hard!

Understanding of hard life 3 "I am so hard, I am so miserable", many people in the world often say so.

However, if you want to succeed, from now on, don't say "I am so hard".

Successful people also use the word "effort". But the use method is different from that of ordinary people.

In interviews with successful people, we will find that they always say "thank you".

The difference between "I am so hard" and "I am so hard on you" is far from the result.

Compared with people who always say that they are "very hard", those who say "thank you for your hard work" truly understand the meaning of hard work and truly feel the meaning and value of hard work.

The more people who can say "thank you", the more they can get the support of others, and at the same time have a grateful mood for everything around them.

Understanding of hard life In fact, successful research on how to brag about the significance of struggle is not important. In fact, you just want to make life better for the people you love.

There is an antique European phone on the table in my living room, and there is a wedding photo of him and his mother next to it. In the photo, he uncharacteristically licked his lips and looked very shy. His mother is taller than him and is not a perfect match to outsiders. When taking this wedding photo, he kept asking his mother to be lower. When he took it, his mother was half a head taller than him.

When my father was young, he was very handsome, angular and highly valued. Although he is not tall, fortunately, he has a quite refreshing face. My father at heart is an extroverted and competitive pragmatist. At the age of seventeen or eighteen, his mind is full of thoughts about the world-learning skills from teachers, endless tall buildings, and a group of enthusiastic young people like them, talking about entrepreneurship, ambition and the future.

As a result, reality gave him a big face twice. His first job was as a coolie in a logging yard, standing on the ground with wood and stones on his shoulders. The sun shines brightly during the day, and the howling wind blows the tent up and down at night. The master did worship one, but he only worked for his father and never taught craft.

After years of hard work, my father left only one stubborn disease. In this way, when I was 25 years old, I finally caught up with the tide of migrant workers entering the city. Father didn't want to make money, just learned a trade to make a living.

At that time, first-class coolies who usually have a heavy workload and do heavy work on the construction site can give priority to working a few more hours at night to earn more work points. In order to earn more work points, my father also became a first-class worker. My father is not strong. He can't stand it for a long time. He had to rely on the relationship of several fellow villagers to switch to decoration projects.

Decoration was absolutely rare in those days when tickets were needed to buy noodles. My father also won some customers because of his clever speculation. Every year, there are several modest projects, and the pockets have begun to have a surplus. Anyway, it is based in the city.

The villagers in other places were all red-eyed when they saw that their father had made money. They said they would work with their father, and they would eat him alive. One day, several fellow villagers led their father to an old house in the old city, and without saying anything, they showed off the young man. His father is moody and will not live or die according to their wishes. When I came back that night, my father had boiling liquid running down half his face, which frightened our mother. Fortunately, it only hurt the epidermis. Every time I see the crescent scar flashing between my father's eyebrows, I always feel breathless.

I got a call from my mother last month. She cried and said, come back, son. Your father fell from the gallows. I asked her if it was serious. Mother said that several ribs were broken, and the test report hasn't come out yet, and people are still in a coma ... how to do this? Then there came the cry that my mother tried to suppress but still couldn't bear. I said, mom, don't cry yet. I'll be right back.

Hung up the phone, booked a plane ticket, packed my luggage and called for leave. When I got to the hospital, it was already noon the next day. My mother picked me up at the hospital gate. She is wearing clothes that don't fit. As soon as she saw it, she grabbed her clothes and went out. Her eyes are black and glassy. Seeing my tears come down at once, I said that my father had broken four ribs, serious stab wounds in his lungs and a little effusion. I followed my mother into the ward and looked at my father lying in the hospital bed. Suddenly, I found that this selfish, stubborn and childish man was finally getting old.

Early know father gave birth to white hair, a closer look, or a big surprise. They lurk in the hair dyed chestnut, not some, not one layer, but many, many. Mom leaned in and whispered: I laughed when your father dyed his hair, and he still boasted at such a big age ... Later, he heard from his old buddy that he dyed his hair so that he could stand next to me and not look old. You see, he is a thoughtful old man.

I'm worried that my father is getting old. I'm totally unprepared for this. Father is old, what should I do? Isn't he old? He is always full of vigor and vitality, always smart and good at harvesting. Last year, he accompanied me to visit a teacher in America. He has never been abroad before, but the first time he went to new york from New Jersey, he took me to school with a strong sense of direction when I couldn't tell East from West.

All along, under his protection, I feel very comfortable and powerless, and I have avoided most of the problems I need to bear in reality, because there is such an unchanging rule in my mind: Dad knows everything. But when did I stop thinking that? I think from the moment he fell from the guillotine, he began to be a child who needed love. I must try to protect him.

After leaving the hospital, my father's immunity was not as good as before, and his memory began to decline sharply. One day he accompanied me to the hospital to fill my teeth and said, when did my teeth become so bad? I said it started a few days ago, and you accompanied me to the hospital. He was at a loss and insisted that I describe the scene in detail so that he could piece together a faint shadow. Oh, he said doubtfully, I remember one thing.

Yesterday, he and his mother had a quarrel about what stuffing to pack for jiaozi. When I got home, I saw my parents jealous and cheeky. I quickly advised them: What can't be said at such a big age? When my father saw me come in, he ran to my side like I was chased by my mother when I was a child. His tone was sad, his expression was pitiful, he called for help and pretended to be innocent. I smiled and asked him why he quarreled.

His mouth was open and his mouth was drooling. I know he is eager to tell me something, but I can't remember what it is. Later, he said tongue-tied, oh, I forgot. The palm of your hand curled up innocently, and then severely blamed your memory. The expression of guilt and helplessness makes your nose sour. I quickly said it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it must be the mother's fault, right? Shall we punish her for cooking for us at night?

I have to go back to work in a few days, and my parents will help me do this and that early in the morning. It takes an hour to walk to the airport, and the three of us walked for more than two hours. My father said my mother was slow to respond. In fact, I found that he was stalling and walking slowly with his mouth in his mouth.

Zhu Ziqing wrote his father's "Back", "In the crystal tears, I saw the back of that fat, blue cotton gown and black jacket", which was quite sad. However, it may be more painful for a father to see the back of his son's trip.

Before departure, I waited in the airport lobby and passed a KFC store. My father suddenly pulled my sleeve and eagerly looked at the chicken nuggets and hamburgers on the shelves inside. I thought my father was going to eat, so I ordered two packages with considerable weight and put them in front of him. I looked up when I was half full and found that my father didn't eat anything. It took me a long time to remember that my father never eats foreign fast food. I had no choice but to eat two packs.

After getting on the plane, I remembered my father's strange behavior just now, and something seemed to whiz past in the hall. It suddenly occurred to me that when the first KFC opened in that small town in my hometown, every day I passed by KFC on my way to school, and I would hold my father's hand and stand at the door of the restaurant to smell the fragrance, which made me greedy for a while. At that time, KFC became a luxury recognized by our parents, and only people with rich family and profound influence could eat it.

My father promised me a hundred times that if I did well in the exam, I would eat on the spot, but I didn't cash it once. Finally, one day, my father took a sum of money to settle the bill for migrant workers and said that he would take me to taste everything. Along the way, my father's eyebrows twisted into twists and his face flickered. At that time, I was young and didn't know my father's situation, so I chewed a delicious hamburger. After eating half, my father said that there were guests at home, so he asked me to play with my friends for a while and go back later. Well, I stirred the mashed potatoes without looking up. That night, my father was blocked by the migrant worker on his way home and got a brick on his head. When he got home, he told his mother that he accidentally fell into the drain and hit his forehead.

Dad, there are some things we have to admit. You are old. I seem to grow old with you, too. I know some things are hard for us to say.

Understanding of hard life 5 In fact, it doesn't matter how brilliantly successful study boasts about the significance of struggle. In fact, you just want to make life better for the people you love.

There is an antique European phone on the table in my living room, and there is a wedding photo of him and his mother next to it. In the photo, he uncharacteristically licked his lips and looked very shy. His mother is taller than him, which is actually not a long class match for outsiders. When taking this wedding photo, he kept asking his mother to be lower. When he took it, his mother was half a head taller than him.

When my father was young, he was handsome, angular and had a high face. Although he is not tall, he has a quite fresh face. My father at heart is an extroverted and competitive theorist. At the age of seventeen or eighteen, he is full of thoughts about the world-learning skills from teachers, seeing endless tall buildings, and a group of enthusiastic young people like them, talking about entrepreneurship, ideals and the future.

As a result, reality gave him a big face twice. His first job was as a coolie in a logging yard, standing on the ground with wood and stones on his shoulders. Sword day is a scorching sun, and the howling wind at night blows the tent up and down. The master did worship one, but he only worked for his father and never taught craft.

After years of hard work, my father left nothing but a serious illness. In this way, when I was 25 years old, I finally caught up with the tide of migrant workers entering the city. Father didn't want to make money, just learned a trade to make a living.

At that time, first-class coolies who usually have a heavy workload and work hard on the construction site can give priority to working a few more hours at night to earn more work points. In order to earn more work points, my father also became a first-class worker. In fact, my father is not strong enough to carry on for a long time. He wants to use the relationship of several fellow villagers to switch to decoration projects.

Decoration was absolutely rare in those days when tickets were needed to buy noodles. My father also established a group of customers because of his clever speculation. Every year, there are several modest projects with initial surplus in their pockets. Anyway, it is settled in the city.

When the villagers in other places saw that their father had made money, they were all red-eyed, saying that they wanted to work in partnership with their father and couldn't wait to ask his father for help. One day, several fellow villagers led their father to an old house in the old city, and without saying anything, they showed off the young man. His father is moody and will not live or die according to their wishes. When I came back that night, my father had boiling liquid running down half his face, which frightened our mother. Fortunately, it only hurt the epidermis. Every time I see the crescent scar flashing between my father's eyebrows, I always feel breathless.

I got a call from my mother last month. She cried and said, come back, son. Your father fell from the gallows. I asked her if the situation was serious. Mother said several ribs were broken, but the inspection report hasn't come out yet, and people are still in a coma ... how to do this? Then there was a cry from the other end of the receiver that my mother tried to suppress but couldn't help but leave. I said, mom, don't cry yet. I'll be right back.

Hung up the phone, booked a plane ticket, packed my luggage and called for leave. When I got to the hospital, it was already noon the next day. My mother greeted me at the hospital gate. She is wearing clothes that don't fit. As soon as she saw it, she grabbed her clothes and went out. Her eyes were dark and glassy. Seeing my tears come down at once, I said that my father had broken four ribs, serious stab wounds in his lungs and a little effusion. I followed my mother into the ward and looked at my father lying in the hospital bed. I suddenly found that this selfless, stubborn, child-tempered man is finally getting old.

I was surprised to learn that my father had a sword, so I took a closer look. They lurk in the hair dyed chestnut, not some, not one layer, but many, many. Mom leaned in and whispered: I laughed when your father dyed his hair, and he still boasted at such a big age ... Later, he heard from his old buddy that he dyed his hair so that he could stand next to me and not look old. You see, he is a thoughtful old man.

I am very nervous about the fact that my father is getting old. I'm totally unprepared for this. Father is old, what should I do? Isn't he old? He is always vigorous, popular, always smart and good at gaining. Last year, he accompanied me to visit a teacher in America. He has never been abroad before, but the first time he went to new york, New Jersey, he took me to school with a strong sense of mission when I couldn't tell East from West.

Under his protection, I feel very comfortable and powerless, avoiding most of the problems I need to bear in reality, because there is such an unchanging law in my mind: Dad knows everything. But since when do I think so? I think, from the moment he fell from the guillotine, he became a child who needed love at first. I must try to protect him.

After leaving the hospital, my father's immunity was not as good as before, and his memory dropped sharply at first. One day, he accompanied me to the hospital to fill my teeth and said, when did my teeth get so bad? I said it was preliminary the other day, and you accompanied me to the hospital. He was at a loss and insisted that I describe the scene in detail so that he could piece together a faint seal of Yongjian.

Today, he and his mother quarreled about jiaozi stuffing. When I got home, I saw two gloomy eyes, red neck and thick neck. I quickly advised him: What can't I say at such a big age? When my father saw me come in, he ran to my side like I was chased by my mother when I was a child. His tone was sad, his expression was pitiful, he called for help and pretended to be innocent. I smiled and asked him why he beat and scolded.

His mouth was open and his mouth was drooling. I know what he is eager to tell me, but I can't remember what it is. Later, he said tongue-tied, oh, I forgot. The palm of your hand curled up innocently, and then severely blamed my memory. The look of guilt and helplessness makes my nose sour. I said hurry up. No problem. Whatever it is, it must be mother's fault. Should we punish her for cooking for us at night?

I have to go back to work in a few days, and my parents will help me do this and that early in the morning. It takes an hour to walk to the airport, and the three of us walked for more than two hours. My father said my mother was slow to respond. In fact, I found that he was stalling and hung up in the gag.

Zhu Ziqing wrote his father's "Back", "In the crystal tears, I saw the back of that fat, blue cotton gown and black jacket", which was quite sad. However, when the father sees the back of his son's trip, it may be more painful.

Waiting in the airport lobby before departure, passing by a KFC store. My father suddenly tugged at my sleeve and eagerly looked at the chicken nuggets and hamburgers piled high on the shelves inside. I thought my father wanted to eat, so I ordered two heavy boxes and put them in front of him. I looked up when I was half full and found that my father didn't eat anything. It took me a long time to remember that my father never eats foreign fast food. I had to eat two servings in a row.

After getting on the plane, I remembered my father's strange behavior just now, and my mind seemed to whiz past in the hall. It suddenly occurred to me that when the first KFC opened in that small town in my hometown, I passed by KFC every day when I was at school. I will hold my father's hand and stand at the door of the restaurant to smell the fragrance and make me greedy for a while. At that time, KFC became a luxury recognized by our parents, and only people with rich property and great power could eat it.

My father allowed me to do well in the exam a hundred times, but I went to dinner on the spot, but I didn't cash it once. Finally, one day, my father took a sum of money to settle the bill for migrant workers and said that he would take me to taste everything. Along the way, my father's curved eyebrows twisted into twists, and his face flickered. At that time, I was still young and didn't know about my father. I chewed my hamburger with a mouthful of fragrance. After eating half, my father said that there were guests at home, so he asked me to play with my friends for a while and go back later. Well, I stirred the mashed potatoes without looking up. That night, my father was blocked by the migrant worker on his way home and got a brick on his head. When he got home, he told his mother that he accidentally fell into the drain and hit his forehead.

Dad, there are some things we have to admit. You are old. I seem to grow old with you, too. I know some things are hard for us to say.