Newly compiled ancient and beautiful sentences

Introduction: Life is a big dream. Autumn coolness comes several times in the world. The maple leaves are already singing in the corridor at night. I can see them on my brows and temples. I am often worried about the lack of guests when I am drunk. The moonlight is often blocked by clouds. Who will be with you during the Mid-Autumn Festival? **Lonely light, looking northward sadly. Below are more ancient and beautiful sentences. You are welcome to share and pay attention.

1. Time has no trace, life is like a dream. Only the snowflakes you brushed away are still waiting in the memory, weaving the eternal lingering. The hope that once withered, constantly rubbed against the moonlight, gradually ignited and swayed in the wind.

2. Seven hundred years ago, you said: Meeting is just for separation. Seven hundred years later, you said again: reincarnation is just for waiting. I don’t know how many years have passed, but I am finally willing to take away the last peach blossom at the end of the year.

3. The spring breeze is clear and shallow, like singing an endless peach song. That burst of willow trees brushed across the river bank, and the people on the river bank felt relaxed and happy. At that good time, under such a beautiful willow tree, I met you. From then on, it was an encounter that lasted forever.

4. I think, no matter how old I am, I will always be a sentimental man. A song, a leaf, and a glass of water are all fragments of my sadness. Every move and smile of others is Every frown will make me involuntarily sink into the vast ideological journey.

5. Wrong marriage, wrong beauty. Even if you lean against the sky, there is only one shadow left, don’t remember each other. The sound of the piano is silent and the sound of the flute is cold. Even if there is no trace of the spirit, this life is over and the next life is promised. The lights slowly dimmed during the long night. I am still melancholy, feeling that I am destined but not destined; I am also regretful that I am destined but not destined.

6. What is indispensable in life is a rainy night? A lonely rainy night with patter on the ground. On such a rainy night, there are tears in the sky and tears in the candles. Tears from the sky can be heard, tears from candles can be seen, but the only thing that is flowing down the face of this person are little silent and invisible tears.

7. Huanhua quietly flows with the passing water, a spring dream farewell to the dawn of the night. I once wrote a running script for the mourning of the butterfly. I caught the light rain for a while, and the strokes became mourning. The tears fell with the words. The fallen ones The crescent moon pays homage to the childhood sweethearts and childhood sweethearts of those years.

8. On a cold night with a bleak autumn wind, after the lonely and wandering moon on the horizon gently told me how to describe the most beautiful scenery in my heart, I no longer complained about why there are always so many things in life. There are so many regrets, and I no longer lament that the end of life is always a light smoke.

9. When I see in other people’s tracks my once so serious and pious, but extremely sad footsteps, I want to cry when I think of myself trudging through so many mountains and rivers.

10. Drinking under the moon a thousand feet, feeling lovesickness in the silent night, it is difficult to express a single strand of love. Fragments of the past become a lifetime of sadness to be read carefully. The events are unforgettable, and the long-term thoughts are torn into threads. I can't sleep at night, the longings are scattered all over the ground, the thin and cold moon is thin, the details are vivid in my eyes, and the strands of love are connected.

11. The moon is pale, the wind is miserable, and an eternal pipa song sours the attachment of this life. Longing comes at night, and fills the night sky. Silky sounds leave imprints, colliding with the trembling in my heart. Tears overflow my eyes, flowing down freely, like a string of music, weeping and complaining.

12. Thoughts like clouds floated here and there, and finally landed on my palm. Gorgeous like neon clouds, sad like morning mist. I know you, you know me. We are on the same horizon, dreaming different dreams. My dreams are as white as flowers, and your dreams are as red as sunset.

13. Love is hurt, how many people have suffered, how many memories have been ruined; love is sadness, how many people have become cold, how many thoughts have fallen, how many tears of infatuation have been shed, drink a glass of turbid wine, and taste it. How much love in the world! If you are my lotus, then let me keep my love for you forever in this life.

14. You don’t know that I am in the world, and I don’t know that you are in the world. Isn’t that clean? We meet by chance, and we miss each other bitterly for three years. When the love is strong, it hurts people deeply. I would rather be unintentional than ruthless. Why bother, why bother? I hope we never meet each other in this life?

15. When I wake up from drunkenness in the afternoon, the pine windows and bamboo windows are full of naturalness. Wild birds fly in, and it’s normal leisure again. But it's the white gull that blames the white gull for looking at people who want to do it but don't want to do it. The old allies are all here, but the newcomers are here, what else can they say?

16. The breeze dances with the bright moon, and the dream falls among the falling flowers. When I woke up from the dream, it felt like a lifetime ago, and between my eyebrows, I was filled with lovesickness. Alone at the end of the world, drunk and greedy for pleasure. The worrying thoughts are endless. Leaning alone in front of the window, watching the flowers fall, under the yellow flower tree, are you playing the jade flute again, drunkenly plucking the love strings?

17. If life is just like the first meeting, why is the autumn wind so sad and easy to draw a fan? Change old people's hearts, but say old people's hearts are easy to change. After talking about Lishan until half past midnight, I still don’t complain about the tears and rain, how can I be lucky enough to be a man in beautiful clothes?

18. Tonight, step on the moonlight and let the past fly, falling on every string of the piano, touching the sound like a complaint. The thoughts in the soft arms turned into low calls, lingering and lingering into thin sadness, hiding in the corner of the night, falling into the arms full of light sorrow, swaying into silence.

19. But even if times have changed and I can smile and say give up, I still can’t really let go from the bottom of my heart. Because, if you deliberately forget the gentle past? The meaning of late autumn, you will only miss it.

20. The past that I only dare to recall in my dreams; the whispers that someone had confided in someone’s ear; the sadness that made my eyes wet when I let go, and the bitterness that lingered on my lips when I said goodbye.

21. With the siege of time, my steps become heavier and slower. Time seems to have forced me to a dead end and plunged me into despair. I can't save anything. I can only endure the pain and walk with difficulty. Move forward step by step.

22. Life is a big dream. Autumn cools down the world several times. The maple leaves are already singing in the corridor at night. You can see them on your brows and temples. I often worry about the lack of guests when drinking wine. The moonlight is often blocked by clouds. Who will be with you during the Mid-Autumn Festival? **Lone light, looking northward sadly.

23. Year after year, one day after another, one autumn after another, one generation gathers and one parting, one happy and one sad, one couch and one bed, one lifetime and one dream. I'm looking for a group of acquaintances here. They get to know each other, play and sing for a while.

24. Facing the moon, shed tears and cry sadly. The poor person who died may not know that this life is really painful and sad, and there will be no end. Calculated, they are not as good as plants, trees and stones. They are ignorant and innocent, but their hearts are clean.

25. Living in the world is like being among thorns. If the heart does not move, people will not move rashly, and if they do not move, they will not be hurt; if the heart beats, people will move rashly, hurting their bodies and bones, so they realize that the world All kinds of pain.

26. The weather is getting colder, the coldness is over, the world is getting old, the vicissitudes of the world have made me cry, it’s so hard to let go, my heart is empty, I want to let go, but I can’t let it go. The dawn has illuminated the sky, and the tears have dried up. Hesitant on the pillow.

27. If life is just like the first time we met, why should the autumn wind draw a fan sadly? It is easy to change people's hearts, but they say that people's hearts are easy to change. How lucky is the brocade clothes, the wings and branches are connected to each other as I wish that day. Being in love doesn't have to last forever, being ruthless doesn't necessarily mean being decisive. Just remember: each other's smiles when we first met.

28. When you think of a certain amazing moment during your journey, the woman who turned around and left is actually already old. Only the memory stays like fog, and the passing time is that of the woman who has gone far away.

29. The years are fleeting with a flick of the fingers, and the dust of singing is scattered, and the longing is lost; touch the strings lightly, as delicate as the wind, for whom will the longing be broken? The feelings wrapped around the fingers, the attachment of a lifetime, in the harmony of the pipa , interpreting the nostalgia of the years one after another.

30. In this life, in the tunnel of time, withered petals are scattered for you. In the short lingering life of this life, the most beautiful memories are strung together into melodious melodies, just to commemorate the most gorgeous encounter when the flowers are in full bloom. And I am just a remnant dream forgotten in eternity.

31. Things in the world have no meaning, so why should people be persistent? It is better to go back and be an idle person, facing a piece of music, a pot of wine, and a stream of clouds. I am lucky to get what I pursue. It's my life.

32. Drinking wine alone, a bottle of drunken life and dreams can't compete with the lingering thoughts. The lonely fragrance admires itself, the whole place is desolate, the night is still young, and it is dark and melancholy. The past is Langyuan Jiehua, the words are lingering and weak, and cannot be thrown away, and the peach blossoms are scars.

33. Standing in the cold wind of winter, snowflakes all over the sky are wrapping this cold city. Thinking of the sincere and priceless friendship that passed away, I couldn't help crying.

34. I only have a glimpse of you, but I glimpse a plain and far-reaching attitude towards life. Be calm, be calm, and will never be dominated by all things. I am alone outside the turmoil. The cicada casts off its burdens and only wants to embrace the bright moon and live forever. There is a field of tobacco on the bank of the river, and a piece of plain grass.

35. When one day you step out of the confusion of life and look back under the sunset, the crooked string behind you will constitute a very precious glimpse of the annual cycle of your life. Whenever you think about it, you will feel sad. Infinitely moved and infinitely gratified, it is etched in my heart and will never go away.

36. There are always some feelings that have to be hidden deeply, and there are always some fragrances that linger in the bottom of my heart. Those days spent with words and intertwined with the soul make watching become the most beautiful scenery. You understand the pure whiteness and softness of my heart. I pity your fragility and loneliness. Love is a flower blooming in the dust. I understand that it is more honest in the wind and rain, and I am moved by the warmth that follows you all the way. In, full of abundance.

37. The fate with you is the deepest memory in the fleeting years. I express the pure beauty of love with persistence and no regrets. When the wind blows, I hide myself in a flower and follow you like a shadow. In the loneliness of my life, I miss you quietly; when the rain falls, I put my heart in my poems and write down my whispers with you with light pen and ink. Watching is the thought of being so far away, and knowing each other is like the spring water of a river. Love, the story about the blooming flowers, the fragrance scattered all over the ground, I don't want to pick it up, let it fall with my longing into the time with you.

38. There is water in thousands of rivers and moon in thousands of rivers. There are thousands of miles of cloudless sky. The wind is gentle and the noise in the lotus pond is far away. The hibiscus is like a face. The flowers in the pond fall against the shadows, the tears of the candles flow towards the heart, the moonlight splashes in the night, and I don't feel sad about autumn until I'm somewhere else. The scenery is graceful, the clouds and water are smiling, and the moonlight is reflected on the water. Zhu Xia passed by in the blink of an eye, and it was Qiu Yu who said goodbye again and never looked back. If you want to send colorful notes and rulers, we will meet each other far away in the mountains. The gentle wind in the lotus pond will send the fragrance far away. Love is in the world, and we will meet again if we are destined.

39. Beside the Agarwood Pavilion, there are peonies in the spring breeze. A window of unbridled lovesickness is like water-colored rouge in a dimly lit place. It flickers like a dream in the south of the Yangtze River. A pair of hazy eyes are as soft as the spring breeze and as moist as the spring breeze. The rain and dew on the willow eyebrows describe this gentle curve. Will the two swallows meet on the street when they return home? If you don't understand the language of flowers, who will the flowers be lingering with? A fragile lovesickness stretches delicately, as beautiful as the clear air, flowing around in the soft intestines, thinking Love is waning, she is dressed in pear blossom white, and her eyes are looking forward to the lotus steps.

40. Where you stare, you can see thousands of miles of mist, flowery pavilions, and the depths of misty water clouds. The ancients interpret thousands of styles in the illusion, and the antique people, clouds, and ancient scenes quietly circulate in the mind, and they are graceful. Delicate elegance, a graceful and light elegance. Pushing a branch of sentimental red maple, I put away all the sadness and joy in the world with the lingering words of lovesickness, hold your gentle hand, lean on your generous shoulder, and turn into butterflies to fly together, regardless of life or marriage. .

41. The women near the water sang Sheng songs on the Qinhuai River. Under the red and blue window grilles, the chiffon and rouge skirts were graceful and graceful in the world of singing and dancing birds. This is the same as Jiangnan, which is drunk with beauty.

42. Gently push open a clump of hidden fences, tiptoe to your window, and listen to you reading the charming words of the new moon and the passionate smoke of the willows in the bookmark, line by line, line by line. Repeatedly, they carry the ravings of the world of mortals, as well as delicate exhortations.

43. The moss-mottled memories come as the paths dodge, and the Jiangnan girls with green temples are fragrant in the calligraphy, dancing with the feelings of ice and snow and the grace of butterfly feathers, a thousand years of poetry. Not old, just like my lovesickness, with a collection of thin words and flowing ancient poems, the long and leisurely ancient rhyme.

44. The distant mountains are like ink, the mist lingers in the green south of the Yangtze River, the three-path chrysanthemums curl up along with the fragrance of ink, gently showing the traces of my heart, the woman concentrating on the wisteria swing, in the setting sun Picking up a memory of moss in the passage, the flowing back in the green season.

45. The beautiful pictures are sold out, but the guests are still breaking the bridge; the paper umbrellas are thin, and the clouds are miserable when viewed from the sky. I died drunk in the western suburbs. I played the flute and wanted to play it. In mourning during the Qingming Festival, we pay tribute to the loneliness and pride of a lifetime, and shake the candlelight with tears; as time goes by, the luxuriant flowers have covered the autumn water. Su Muzhe, the Red Mansion sings with a glass of wine; the poppy, who is chiseling the coquettish dancing posture; the shadow of the drunken flowers, the gurgling cold air, passing by alone; the golden threads, how many scrolls are floating on the sky; the partridge sky, staring into the sky Destiny in the past life? The mist and rain are fading away, the cold moon is a little shallow, how can I pity? How can I sleep?

46. In this life, the wind and smoke pass by, holding the mortal world in hand, morning and evening, condensing words into love . We are dependent on each other, like a flower, you are the warmth that I keep alone, you are not negative, and the prosperous lips are lingering. That day, the sky was dark and gloomy, just like my mood. Stepping on broken sentiments, my eyes are filled with frost, the wind is blowing, and the cold is still there. I close my eyes and can't remember your complete smile. At this moment, my world begins to snow.

47. There is a lot of love but loneliness. Life is short. Loneliness worries about the old beauty. How can the vows in past and present lives withstand the time slowly flowing into desolation? If I stand on the bank of the pond and look at the lotus, how can I? Can you see the loneliness and sadness from the elegant and refined charm? Just like I can't see through the sadness hidden behind the soul of the world.

48. The giant of time has really grown old all of a sudden, and the leaves have fallen one after another. The ruthless dark night will never feel distressed. No matter how you struggle in it, it will still be, It will still be dark, as if the light giant has exhausted its energy again, and the world will become dark again. Everyone has to set off again, heading towards the sunshine of their respective tomorrows. So do we.

49. Whose figure disrupted the ink stains of the poems stained by the words of the heart? The pain that lives in the words cuts off the insomnia! Tears filled every corner of the night. The lingering cherry blossoms knocked down by the drizzle are just like the vows made countless times, smeared into blood by the setting sun. They cannot bear the burden of the promise and are scattered in the cold moonlight, lonely and sad at the end of the world.

50. Light a heart lamp, retreat to a small space, and keep a watch at the end of the sky. Let the shouts grow wildly along the veins of longing. The unforgettable warmth and memory in this life are condensed into red cinnabar on the chest, dipped in the faint and persistent ink fragrance, and carefully sketched, filling the most beautiful love in this life with true feelings and tender lines of poetry?

51. The prosperity has passed away, the flowers have fallen into graves. In the light of love, let me dance the last dance for you. My heart is exhausted with love, my skirt is dripping, and my heart is full of sorrow. I can dance with the beauty of my life, and dance to end my attachment in the next life. Maybe it’s fate, the grudges, sorrows and sorrows in this world have their final destiny. Maybe it’s because of the unintentional overdraft. Mi Mi’s deep love is so deep that it’s hard to take it back. She’s obsessed with the past, and it’s fragmented. When time plays the strings of memory, when people leave, they sway. The wind chime of lovesickness, love, has been floating gracefully in the wind.

52. The flowing clouds are passing by, the misty rain is far away, and there are fine dust dancing in the air. A sleeve of elegant thin clothes, the skylight is faint, and I have been intoxicated with a few ink, the fragrance marks the words in the poem, and the shallow strokes draw the phantom figure. Walking gracefully to the edge of the willow bank, a poem is written. The purple road is filled with smoke, carrying a bit of elegance and a bit of resentment. One book is full of ink marks, half a volume has clear lyrics, the lotus is graceful, and the butterflies are dancing. Crystal whispers, as delicate as silk, flowers fade and bloom all over the sky, and the years pass by in the sound of mist and rain.

53. A smile, light and elegant, leisurely by the water. The world of mortals is like a dream, stepping on the folds of time, and the lines of poetry that have lasted for thousands of years. A drop of tears, just like yesterday, spread across the ferry that has lingered for thousands of years. On the peach blossom street, there are many words, and the flowers fall and follow the people. Holding the green dew in hand, rolling up the light sleeves of white clothes, walking alone in the deep valley, if the water condenses into smoke and the sound is far away?

54. The drizzle does not recognize sorrow, and the desire to ride on the wind intensifies. Roll up your sleeves and pick up flowers, shaking them into the cloud pool. Drunk on flowers and water, drunk on a line of poetry, wrapped in mist, swaying willow branches in the rain, I have always liked the willow leaves in their plain makeup, spotless, I can't help but pick up the swirling jasper, drunk on the wind, drunk on the rain, drunk on a curtain of dreams, quiet Quietly listening to the soft singing of raindrops. A kind of sadness that feels like a world away, deeply touching the tender memory. A hint of sour taste, a few desolate poems.

55. I no longer remember this evening or what evening. In the past, my dusty heart was like water, and I can never return to the tranquility like when the lotus first bloomed, writing poems to praise the flowers, composing lyrics and singing songs. The weak body drifts in the wind, and the silence sinks. Just because of the pull of my thoughts, I fell into your focused eyes.

56. Looking for the romantic Chu Ci, on the banks of the Milishui River, Qu Zi held the jade in his arms, drank the dew in the morning, took Su Yan in the evening, and wrote a poem about Li Sao. It is a masterpiece for the ages, and the vicissitudes of life have left a lonely person. The night traveler, with disheveled hair, slowly walks into the rolling waves and is annihilated, as calmly as a phoenix bathing in fire and Nirvana. Those unsolved mysteries wandering around in the past are buried in the cold waters with him. With the remaining wings of dreams, they hang a pair of heavy shackles on the treacherous people, bringing a glimpse of the world before dawn. The light of dawn.

57. The gurgling water fills the heart, the garden is full of fallen flowers, and the fragrance fills the sleeves. Take a handful of lake water and pick up a wisp of autumn fragrance. The graceful and bright rhythm is twisted into a pure white heart lotus. Any water melody flows gently, spreads quietly, soaks into the plain paper as thin as Chan wings, and then soaks into it?

58. The night snow is fluttering like falling feathers, blooming one by one, blooming in the quiet and mellow rhymes of Tang poetry and Song lyrics. The auspicious mist is misty, the waning moon is looming, the plum blossoms are covered with snow, and a smart chord is blown down, with overlapping subtle rhymes, the eternal tenderness is written into the snow petals at this moment. Tired of leaning by the window and looking at Qiongying, who is my heart to you? Touch the frost on your hands to test the plum blossoms, caress a slow song, listen quietly to the misty rain in the sparse fence and sing the drunken flowers, watch the pale clouds in the long sky and play the phoenix Xiao chanting.

59. I have no sleep tonight. If you are just a gust of wind blowing by, I want to write a piece of watch without you in my fleeting memory, which will never wake you up from your dream. If the long and sad music stops suddenly, should I give up the nostalgia of the mortal world, throw the unreasonable melancholy into the flowery spring, and let the reluctant piano music weave into a romantic declaration of love, reappearing in the grand scene of pear blossoms and rain? . There is no moon tonight and there are very few stars. The shadow folds in half in the darkness, looking a little lonely. The night is like mourning, with a deep dark meaning.

60. As light as water, as clear as tea, with flowers flying between your fingers.

The soul is in the wind, the shadow is in the fog, and the youth is buried in the rain. Hair like snow, face like jade, lonely and arrogant. When I saw everything thoroughly, I suddenly felt that being awake would be uncomfortable. When the soul is hurt, it suddenly becomes clear that there are too many helplessness and too many things that should not be done in reality. Loneliness has become a kind of belief. I use loneliness to heal my wounds, use blood to make ink, build a city with undefeated flowers, and use tears to make clothes, to interpret the unparalleled elegance! The long night is full of love, and the moonlight is like a person who has never returned. The flowers are falling, the rain is deep in my heart, and the prosperity comes to an end with tears streaming down my face.

61. Use a smile to wait for a spring breeze to bathe in the rain; use brightness to embrace a touch of affection, twist the strands of thoughts in your hair, calling them a lovesickness button; wrap up every bit of touch. , collect it in my heart, tie it into a concentric knot, hold your hand, gently smell, the secret fragrance of life, you are here, I am here, the best understanding is also there, it is the best time in life.

62. At that moment, I visited the ancient garden, picked up the fragrance, and smiled at the fresh grass adding new makeup. On the street near the wind, I invite you to talk with pen pals, write thousands of poems, play chess, calligraphy and painting, drink thousands of pots of wine, and watch the green willows and get drunk at the sunset. The winding path leads to a secluded place, with red and green colors, orioles singing and swallows dancing, the mind is calm, and the shadows are moving.

63. Butterflies circle under the Qingchuan River, pretending to be from Nanshan. Flowers pity people and they are drunk. People on different roads are already dead. A few infatuated loves turn into butterfly dreams, and the scattered flowers enter the mortal world. Infatuated love Like a butterfly, memory is like a flower, the butterfly relies on the flower, the flower cherishes the person, the person is gone, the glitz and indifference, and the flower sleeps alone. Thoughts are like a rainbow, with overflowing colors. I ask when the butterfly dream will return. I am drunk under the colorful bridge on the Chinese Valentine's Day. Walking intoxicated, people are already mourning. Tears under the flowers, how much love.

64. Wherever I am in the pond, the water is fragrant and the mud is dense, nourishing my fragrance! Not shaken by the wind, not hidden by the rain, let you come and go, and keep my sky bright. It is untainted, bright and magnanimous, clean and differentiated, what harm does it bring to me? How can I admire the high and beautiful, how can I be hurt by the low and dirty! The moon is full in the heart of the sky, and I feel this beautiful chapter. Standing on the sandbank freely, the floating clouds reflect the blue waves in the heart. The roots of the lotus-picking song are broken, and there is no sound anywhere in the world.

65. Thinking of that obsessed gaze and thousands of words, all in that touch of tenderness. From now on, the breeze is bright, the moon is shining, the bamboo shadows are flying, and I am willing to be that colorful lotus. I just indulge in the affectionate tenderness, flowers fly in my dream, and cinnabar is dotted between my eyebrows in my dream.