About Sanmao's composition material

By chance, I saw Sanmao's words: simple and profound, as fresh and natural as nature, as playful and smart as a child. Sanmao is a writer with great personality. The following is the composition material I compiled for you about Sanmao, hoping to help you!

About Sanmao's composition material I

Sanmao, one of my favorite writers.

Sanmao, formerly known as Chen Ping, is a famous female writer in Taiwan Province, 1943, from Sichuan. I showed my love for books since I was a child. When I was five years old, I read a dream of red mansions and read countless books, which also confirmed this sentence. Children who love reading will not go bad.

Sanmao's learning experience and life experience are very rich, which are all reflected in her works. The first contact with San Mao was an article about her childhood? Picking up garbage? Articles. Thought: finally found the same? Eccentricity? But I regret her depth, practical ability and rich imagination. She is a very special person, with different charm. I like reading her books, because her words come from life, simple and true, without flowery words, but they reveal true feelings, make people feel comfortable, not so profound, but show the world the beauty of life.

From her writing, you can see her love with Jose, wonderful life in the desert, and you can obviously feel the sensitivity and life consciousness of a female writer. My baby tells a different and unique story about the origin of everything. Does Xue Taoji show different schools and different learning interests?

Many people envy Sanmao and are infatuated with her, but others don't agree with her. Li Ao wrote an article about San Mao and Jin Yong, saying that they were both hypocritical. Especially when talking about San Mao, she said: San Mao is a romantic sadness of yellow sand. She is not an attractive woman but insists on interpreting so many love stories, which is unbearable for her Jose, so she simply died. Also commented that most of Sanmao's articles are the same feelings as boiled water? And Lu Yu's love for Sanmao is close to worship. She wrote in Heart Meeting:? It was the first time in my life that I really envied a person and wanted to know everything about this person? There are too many differences between San Mao and me, but it doesn't prevent me from infatuating with her? I won't be disappointed with the truth about San Mao. I like San Mao in the article. As for what she looks like in life, why bother?

San Mao often talks about the topic of life in his books, telling readers to love everyone around them. She also said:? If I choose to end my life by myself, you should also understand, because for me, it will be a happy home. ? 199 1 year 65438+1on the morning of October 4, Sanmao finally left a lasting impression on countless people who loved him and her words in her decisive way.

How many people still dream of that wonderful flower that blooms tenaciously in the Sahara desert?

About Sanmao's composition material II

I occasionally read Sanmao's works. I have always hoped to understand her, and I am confident that I can understand her. As a result, psychological confusion disappointed me again and again. Now that I think about it, maybe she is a contradictory person, always confusing!

The first contact with Sanmao began when she committed suicide.

See a post on the Internet one day? The mystery of Sanmao's suicide. Curiosity drove me to click and read carefully. From that day on, I learned about such a talented woman with a strange personality. I began to buy her works crazily again and read them hungrily. Yes, I am eager to read her feelings and her soul from her works.

Originally thought, a suicidal person is a person who lives in pain, confusion and even a little melancholy all day. Because only such a person would commit suicide by dropping stockings on the drip stand in the hospital. Although it takes a lot of courage to commit suicide in this way, how much ideological struggle does it take to make a decision? Or perhaps, San Mao has long felt indifferent to joining the WTO. I want to go to heaven and be a pair of mandarin ducks with my dear Yue Se. I have already given up the glory and noise of the world, and my heart is dying. Nobody knows.

I feel the heroic spirit of Sanmao's brave invasion of the Sahara, and I admire him for it. She gave up the bright lights of the bustling city and stuck to her love for the Sahara. Despite the harsh living conditions and the endless yellow sand, there has never been any fanaticism.

Some people say that San Mao died in Jiang Lang! Joke, a very talented woman, writing materials can be drawn from her rich life. Even if Jiang Lang is really exhausted, Sanmao, who has always been indifferent to fame and fortune, will not ruin her such a beautiful life because of this. Some people say that Sanmao died with her husband Jose. Her deep love for Jose and her grief after she left may also make her commit suicide alone. But who can tell?

After reading all the works of Sanmao, I was moved by the occasional humor and sadness. What impressed me deeply was that Sanmao was funny when describing her relationship with Jose and her mother-in-law. I think she is actually a very ordinary woman. There are also naughty little women and the helplessness and difficulties of being a daughter-in-law. In fact, Sanmao is a grateful, independent, talented and unique elf.

Sanmao has been dead for a long time, but the world can't forget her. Her works still touch people every day. In any case, the dead are gone, and those left behind can only learn from the experience of their predecessors, live well and not forget to cherish it. Confucius said: the deceased is like a husband, never giving up day and night!

About Sanmao's composition material III

Sanmao, a familiar and distant name. A woman who smiles but is tough and brave, washes deep sadness into a faint smile but still makes people sad, and pursues romantic aesthetics with her life but finally chooses the saddest romantic ending.

My lonely and firm back in the twilight, far away in the endless desert, leaving only the eternal light of the stars all over the sky. I think of her smile, innocent and kind between the lines.

Maybe she should be an out-of-touch legend, but she really came to this world, experienced many joys and sorrows, and left peacefully.

She has gone, leaving a string of deep and shallow fragmented footprints, swaying under the starlight, mysterious. What kind of legendary life is that? In the jumping words, vaguely swaying.

A foreign desert. A memory that I don't want to remember, together with my flowery years, was buried in a desolate and monotonous desert. However, she described this lonely and dark madness as the warmest insipid, so insipid that there was no wave.

But what a life it is! Sensitive and suspicious women live in a foreign land and have experienced too many life and death separations. What endless pain this is! How can a young and beautiful heart bear the fate? However, she still smiled in a low voice, just like the slow and sad bass of a violin, singing softly. I seem to see her slightly upturned mouth, gliding across the height of sadness.

Later, her writing seemed to be softer. I can't touch sadness. But those who are slightly blue are still soft and painful, dribs and drabs, like the light of a meteor. Her style of writing has grown up and become immature and mature. What impressed me most, however, were the stories about the rainy season, which were simple and true.

Those are salty words, clear and sharp, which instantly cut through the darkness accumulated in her life for a long time and caught me off guard. The beautiful and true feelings I touched ran in a soft way without looking back.

I saw her angular character shining in the dark after a long silence.

I heard her wanton and turbulent emotions jingling in the text, crisp and sweet.

It is a youthful and unrestrained writing style that has never been concealed.

Tears and laughter in the whole rainy season are vividly rendered by her simple words. Then she had to bury this fleeting youth, even if there was her truest shadow there.

She said sadly that the rainy season will never come again.

In a flash, strange street lamps interweave into countless illusions in front of my eyes.

Tie a rope with socks and she left. No more dust and debris.

Dai Sanmao. Pull the rainy season that has long passed. Still holding the truest San Mao in that rainy season.