Please give me some good words, sentences and paragraphs that describe my love of reading.

For me, the temptation of books only belongs to the delicious category of snacks. An alpine lollipop can make me forget the loss of rejection. A good article will make me smoke three cigarettes in a row.

Past reading contains too many rebellious psychological distortions. Words should not be so dull, I always complain at a glance. The charm of words should be like flowers before they appear. Fluent words, fascinating and unpredictable imagination suddenly emerge when you are about to lose interest in reading. A woman with good looks. Even a ghost is a paradise house. Passing by the toilet, there are mythical details of my lover. This is the confession of where you are going, and I will walk quickly. Later, I met the stream-of-consciousness figures. Like wild horses returning to the forest. I'm tired of those trivial and vulgar articles about urban love. Dogs accustomed to gorgeous clothes forget to bark at the sun. Rich people will inevitably spend too much time counting money or spending money. Autumn wind sweeps away the fallen leaves, which have long been swept into the garbage by diligent cleaners. It is often the same story as duckweed, but we should not have the spirit wandering of duckweed itself. Deep-rooted writing can only be found in this fertile and natural rural field. But I still don't know how to draw good nutrients from life. Life experience is too little. I think the wings of youth have enough space to relax in my dreams. Therefore, the fantastic and beautiful love of a Chinese Odyssey is always the same. Reading "Fantasy City", tasting Cang Yue and writing the first novel "The Fate of the Wolf" are all people and animals. Later, a thousand years ago | Later, it was even more beautiful. This belongs to the fantasy period of youth. As long as we continue this fantasy, we will continue our youth. So, when the stream of consciousness flooded into our minds, I just put this pure fantasy on hold for a while. Jiang Taigong gave up fishing and came back after the war.

Stream of consciousness is the pace of wisdom and freedom. The waterfall in thousands of feet is a thunder after a long period of obscurity in history. I don't like the rapid development of thinking in an instant. Like a flood sweeping towns and villages. Everything has been a mess since then. The world is like a chemical reaction. Stream of consciousness is the return of words. A small village with flowing water naturally prospers after many years. Dredging the Yellow River is nothing more than adding more branches and leaves. The age of stream of consciousness doesn't seem to be too big, but now it is an alternative. The age of human beings has been tens of thousands of years, and it is also an alternative to life. Ten thousand years seems to be a drop in the ocean in the universe, and human beings are still young. However, human beings evolved from tiny life after all. From the emergence of life to mankind. From the origin of words to the stream of consciousness. I dare not say that this is the final return of the text. This should be the voice of the wise.

The flowing water is calm. The calm or crazy rolling of the sea should also be magnificent. No one will look down on them because of their childish childhood sophistication. As appropriate, I began to learn from myself later. They are all Marx. The world may have died of "spiritual food distress". Learn to gradually calm down your ups and downs. In other words, ordinary words are camping. Try to follow Qingshan after singing birds and flowers. After the storm, the clouds should be steaming. The Cultural Revolution after the victory of the War Revolution.

After I've been there, it's inevitable that I'll be covered in blood or splashed with water during the Songkran Festival, and I'll feel cold. Words, like art, are creating a realm. Revolutionary martyrs like bombing bunkers and pacifists who say "I have a dream" for the equal rights of blacks. I see, words belong to ordinary people. Words are the slaves of writers. However, writers are slaves of ordinary people. After entering the realm of writing, ordinary people became slaves of writing, and we all became slaves of writing. But it's voluntary. Like an apple ripened and fell to the ground. If you have more money, do charity activities.

There are no two identical leaves in the world. But they are all one of the seven colors. After photosynthesis, they become fertilizer after death. It is very sad to dress up in different poses with the same purpose before death, or to dress up for each other. Occasionally, a few individuals are full, unable to carry out photosynthesis or are made into specimens after death. Strange flow in this colorful and complicated world. This has become an endless beauty. Just like words. So sometimes I look through magazines. Read the poem first, then the humorous joke, and then the essay. Finally, if you have time, look at the hyped love novels. I must increase my knowledge. Magazines are highland barley powder during the Anti-Japanese War, used to satisfy hunger. At least I think so.

I have a cigarette in my mouth and a book with profound words in my hand. Sit on the cool ground and bask in the sun (if all the cool seats are full). This should be a pleasant and cheap enjoyment. As for writing, I think I will return to the forest one day (I am far from qualified to write anything of real value). Take a dip in the stream once in a while to cool off and continue your youth.