Good paragraph: a famous paragraph describing "auction"

With sandals stuffed in his crotch, he walked out of the store like a thief, full of pride. Where the street lights can't shine, look at the shadows of two policemen, then take them out of their crotch, put on a serious face of a businessman, and take the goods to the brightly lit street to find customers. Think at once; How can I phrase it so that people can't see that I'm just auctioning a pair and the price won't break? This is simply a general rule: the goods in the merchant's shop are as expensive as treasures, and there is no market for them. When they fall into your hands and mine, the auction price will be reduced by half as usual, even though you have never used them. I sold these sandals on the street myself, and I must lose money. What else can I say? However, I can't accept the natural situation. I must be smart, even if I pretend. Really, in order to survive, even thieves have to do this if they are forced to starve to death. Around our society, there is no room for good people who show their true colors everywhere. If a sincere good man can live, he needs another new world. If I declare to the shopkeeper that I am hungry as soon as I enter the store, and I am not sure about the store account, then I really want to sleep on the street and eat the favor of the police. Based on this philosophy of survival, I shouted to the rickshaw driver who was resting by the vendor's booth and held out my hand in sandals. "Hey, do you want sandals? I brought a new pick from Zhaotong. This is a look. Look: Do you want it? " The rickshaw driver handed the sandals one by one and wiped them under the smelly oil lamp beside the vendor's stall. I put my hands behind my back, like an experienced boss, observing the expressions of shopkeepers. A distressed one said, "It's too expensive." A chin with a short beard said, "No!" A leisurely say; "It's better to wear our linen sandals!" This business is really hard to do, and I'm a little anxious. Suddenly, the vendor selling peanuts and peas asked my price: "How much is a pair?" "How many pairs do you want?" Make it look like I've sold hundreds of pairs of sandals and ask, "more, let's make a little price." Just buy a pair, 400! " I bought it at this price, and I'm not cruel. I wanted to shout a little higher, but I was afraid of losing this good customer. "Hey, a little more money is enough to buy a pair of cloth shoes. How can it be so expensive? " The peddler pretended not to see the goods, looked at the stall, as if silently counting piles of peanuts and peas. I grabbed the straw sandals and showed them to him, saying, "Look, these are Zhaotong straw sandals. In fact, what's so special about Zhaotong sandals in Kunming? I have no idea. I will pretend to be an expert. " No matter who you are from Zhaotong, sandals are always sandals, unlike eggs that turn into chickens! "The vendor grinned at me. My face, somehow, turned red and left angrily in sandals. "Two hundred! Do you sell it? "He suddenly made me an offer." 350! "I turned around and answered, enough to relax." One for adding, one for renting, 250. "A rickshaw puller ran into a rally." That's what he said! "The peddler yelled at me and I stopped." Three hundred! Quite a lot! "Stick to my price." Fuck you! Don't. "I walked a long way and found a large number of waiters, rickshaws, porters, vendors and waiters. Just like the phonograph, I have repeated this sentence many times: as soon as I pick straw sandals … they look like a pair … if I buy more, I will reduce the price. But the result was very bad, either 160 or 180, as if they all saw through me and waited to sell sandals before eating. I have no good idea, so I have to go back to this vendor selling peanuts and peas and sell them at a price of 250. But he took out his face and snorted at me. Probably the mask I just hung up has been torn off in embarrassment. Therefore, he is acting now. Finally, he "hmm" and said, "No! These sandals don't wear! "This time really hit a wall. I fell and ran away. " Very good! 200, 200! "He caught me like this again. This is actually 20 words more than 180. These 20 words are of unparalleled value to me here and now. So I sold it to him. The sauce yellow copper coins (one worth twenty pence) were counted one by one in my palm by his hand, one by one, and one by ten. I was very careful. I threw the copper coins on the step stones one by one to see if there were any dumb boards. -this move is not like a businessman selling goods, but I ignored these. At the same time, the rickshaw driver on the side said, "Oh, two hundred pence a pair, then we'll take it, too. Go and get more pairs! " "I don't sell, I don't sell. "I'm a little angry. But the anger soon disappeared. It's like putting ten silver dollars in a bag, and joy is trembling on your lips. -"Ai Wu: A Lesson in Philosophy of Life", selected short stories by Ai Wu, pp. 4-7).

This place is so spacious, but for the low fence, forty couples can dance Mazzuca freely in it, but the fence divides the court into two parts, one for the audience and the other for the auction. There are several rattan chairs in the place to accommodate the audience. There is a wooden platform on the auction site. There is a horseshoe-shaped big table covered with green velvet cloth on the platform. Mr. Iqnaxi saw three officials standing at the table, wearing necklaces around their necks, pretending to be members of the House of Lords: this is the executor. Every executor has a stack of documents about real estate auction in front of him. Between the table and the fence, behind the fence, are a group of businessmen. They stood and looked up at the executioner, absorbed, and even monks who observed the celestial phenomena devoutly would be jealous.

-([Wave] Proust: Puppet, p. 470)

You can hear the shouts of the auctioneer at the door. The room was crowded with curious people. All the celebrities in Huajie Liuxiang were present, and several celebrities were secretly watching. This time, in the name of participating in the auction, they can have a close look at the women they have never had a chance to get along with. Maybe they are secretly envious of these women's free and dissolute enjoyment of life. Duchess f's arm hit miss a; Miss A is a typical unlucky beauty in today's prostitute circle. The marquise is hesitating whether to buy Mrs. D's expensive furniture. Mrs. d is the most romantic and famous slut in contemporary times. Duke Y, who was considered bankrupt in Madrid in Paris and bankrupt in Madrid in Paris, actually didn't spend his income for years. At the moment, he is flirting with Mrs. N while chatting with Mrs. M. Mrs. M is a talented short story writer. She often wants to write down what she said and sign her name. The beautiful Mrs. N often walks on the Champs Elysé es, wearing clothes that are inseparable from pink and sky blue. There are two strong black horses driving for her. The asking price of these two Matoni horses is10,000 francs ... She paid in full, and finally got Miss R. Her position earned by her own talent made those upper-class women who rely on marriage makeup feel ashamed, and those who rely on love feel even more ashamed. Although the weather was very cold, she came to buy something, and many people paid attention to her. I must mention that everyone was in high spirits. Although many women are acquaintances of the deceased, they seem to have no nostalgia for the deceased at the moment. Everyone laughed loudly and the auctioneer shouted at the top of his lungs. Businessmen sitting on benches in front of the auction house tried their best to tell everyone to be quiet and let them do business with peace of mind, but they would never pay attention. I have never seen such a noisy gathering. -([France] Dumas: La Traviata, p. 15-l7)

At three o'clock, the quartermaster moved two canvas bags onto the deck, which were covered with big red wax prints and marked with Sylvester's name. This was used for auction-the deceased's things must be auctioned according to regulations-all his clothes and everything he had when he was alive. And those sailors are happy to run around and stand around. On a hospital ship, people often see this kind of cloth auction, so they are no longer moved. Besides, Sylvester is not famous on this ship. His blouse, shirt, blue T-shirt, etc. They were all touched and turned over, and then they bought a certain amount. Buyers will increase the value and resell it to others. Now it's the turn of the important little box that has been valued at fifty sous. Letters and medals in the box have already been taken out for his family, but there are also books for copying songs, works by Confucius, and threads, buttons, needles and various odds and ends that my grandmother Yvonne put there to mend him. Later, the quartermaster who showed the lot took out two small Buddha statues that Sylvester had robbed in a stupa and prepared to give them to Gotha. These two Buddha statues look so strange that everyone can't help laughing when they appear in such a bad fate. But although these sailors all smile like this, it is not because of ruthlessness, but only because of lack of thinking. Finally, I sold two cloth bags. The buyer immediately blotted out the name on the bag and wrote his own name on it. After the auction, someone carefully cleaned up the dust and rope debris that fell on the unusually clean deck. The sailors quickly turned around and played with their parrots and monkeys. -([France] Luo Wei; Icelandic fishermen, page 108- 109)

Good paragraph: a famous paragraph describing "labor"

At this time, people have been the same as when charging in a war: some have lost their straw hats, some have taken off their cloth shirts, and all the sickles are flashing, as if people are flying, sickles are flying, and wheat and electricity are flying. It seems that there is a whirlwind blowing in the wheat fields covered with poplars, blowing the wheat pieces down and then blowing them into bundles. On the way from poplar to the village, ox carts, mule carts, backpacks and burdens are very wide. (Zhao Shuli: Old Quota and Selected Novels of Zhao Shuli, pp. 423-424)

The cart pulling wheat rushed out of the village, and one, two, three ... yellow smoke rolled up behind the cart. Bells jingled, hooves clanged, red tassels whipped, drivers sang Hebei minor, and men sang female voices while holding their voices, which made him laugh! In a short time, the cart drove into the wheat field, and the members who followed it jumped off the cart one by one with ropes and wood rights in their hands. One of them missed his footing and hit his ass. The member who just stopped the sickle ran over to help move the wheat, return the wheat pile and load the car. Some pick it by weight, some grab it by hand, pick it up and throw it into the car. In a short time, every car was packed like a hill, and several people went up and put it on. There are some strong boys below, shouting their songs and shaking the "wringer". The rope with thick arms tied the wheat tightly ... When the cart was loaded, it was full and high. The young man driving first threw the fork off the car and the man climbed up. The handle of the carriage shook the whip solemnly and proudly, and passed by, and the animals in the long cover leaned against the axle again. As soon as they shouted "Drive", the cart roared back along the road, wobbling like a fat man who had eaten a lot of japonica rice stew. (Haoran: sunny day, P.1194-1195)

We climbed the levee through the thick snow, watching and drinking! The light is as bright as day. I suddenly realized that this must be the pumping station of Wanjin Agricultural Association. The caisson project is drawing to a close, a big pipe sucks water from the bottom of the pit like a black python, and the machine is ringing in a water pump room built by a reed mat. Many people wear long rubber boots and pants and work in ice water. The steel cable in the air lifts the cement precast blocks and sends them below. Half of the foundation wall for installing the pump has been built. Along the huge pit and criss-crossing wooden springboard, people carrying dirt are busy. The electric lights hanging in the air sway with the wind, and the snow and fog are spinning, shaking and flying like a roll of white blanket cloth. (Liu: A Warm Snowy Night and Collection of Short Stories Since the Founding of the People's Republic of China, p. 337)

Levin paid more attention to Ivan Palmi's and his wife. They are loading hay into the car not far from him. Ivan Palmi's standing in the car, accept, put away, trample on a large bundle of hay, this is his beautiful young wife deftly handed him. She picked it up one by one, and then put it on with a fork. The young peasant woman works leisurely, happily and flexibly. Compacted hay doesn't spread easily on her fork. First, she raked the hay loose, stuck it in with a fork, then pressed her whole body weight on the fork with agile and elastic movements, and then immediately bent her back with a red belt. She lifted herself up, lifted her plump chest under her white shirt, turned her fork flexibly and threw bundles of hay high into the car. Obviously, Ivan wants to reduce her unnecessary labor as much as possible. He quickly opened his arms, took the bundles of hay she threw, and laid them flat on Chedan. When she finished raking the last straw, the young peasant woman brushed the grass clippings that fell on her neck and cut the red scarf that hung down on her white forehead that was not tanned by the sun. She climbed into the car to help tie it. Ivan taught her how to tie the rope to the crossbar. After listening to her words, he laughed. From the expressions on their faces, we can see a strong, young and newly awakened love. ([Russia] lev tolstoy: Anna karenin, p. 402)

Behind the poplars, the wheat field stretches from the avenue to the top of the mountain like a dazzling yellow carpet. The wheat on the hillside has been cut and tied into bundles, but the wheat field at the foot of the mountain has just been harvested ... Six wheat cutters stand in a row, waving sickles, and the sickles are shining, and they all say "Fuxi, Fuxi!" Sound. From the action of the peasant woman who tied the wheat, from the face of the reaper, from the light of the sickle, we can see that the summer heat is roasting them and suffocating them. A black dog with its tongue sticking out ran towards the carriage from the reaper, probably trying to bark for a while, but stopped halfway and looked at Jane Niska. She shook her whip to scare her. It's so hot that the dogs don't bark! A peasant woman straightened up, put her hand on her aching back, and stared at Guo Ye Rusika's red cloth shirt. I don't know whether the red shirt caught her attention or whether he reminded her of her children. In short, she stood there motionless and stared at him for a long time ... ([Russia] Chekhov: Grassland, Selected Novels of Chekhov, p. 157)

Two brown horses have run north and disappeared, but Guido knows; They will stop soon, because they are tired, but the mare may continue to run to the edge of the lake bed and go back to the hill she is familiar with, where the truck can't be tracked. He drove the truck straight ahead and picked up speed, but a minute later, he caught up with the mare. He drove to the left of the mare because the foal ran to the right of the mare. He found the mare very big and wondered if it was really a wild horse. He drove beside the mare, looked at the mare's side and tried to find a seal, but the mare didn't seem to act like a seal. Then, through the window of his right head, he saw the lasso fly out and land on the mare's head. He also saw the mare's head held high and then flinched. He turned his head to the right, put his left foot on the brake and saw the mare dragging a tire to a stop. The free pony looked at the mare and walked quickly to her side. So he walked straight on, across the flat lake and riverbed, to two black spots, and the black spots expanded rapidly until they became the two brown horses, standing there quietly watching the coming trucks. He drove the truck among them. When they flew, Pailes, who was standing on the left, trapped a horse, and Guy trapped another horse almost at the same time. ([America] Miller: The Untimely Man, Collection of Contemporary American Short Stories, p. 170)

Good passage: a famous passage describing "funeral"

Wu Fu deacons, wearing gowns made of black cloth and belts made of thick, long and wide white cloth, just walked from the gate to the living room as a mourning hall. In the hot sun, they rushed back to the dog door to go to the new clothes rack of Yin-all of them were so tired that they were sweating. /kloc-before 0: 30, eight people in this class can sometimes sit on the wooden bench next to the "drummer" at the gate for a minute or two, lift the white cloth belt around their waist to wipe the sweat on their faces, change the fan into a white post with the word "Yin" written on it, take a breath, and complain that Master Wu refuses to employ more people, but when the poisonous sun shines directly on his head, clothes hangers flood in like a tide. The two classes of drummers at the gate and in front of the mourning hall kept beating, and the deacons of this "leading" road simply became running machines, and they didn't even want to complain about Master Wu's mind. At most, I accidentally glanced at the six deacons who served in front of the mourning hall and secretly envied their good luck. Car horns blare, flutes, suona, small class gongs, mixed with "funeral music", attendants jostle around shouting "there is a place to pour tea, there is a place to open soda", clamoring for dinner at the starting place, and scouts at the gate are driving the shouts of others; The spicy taste of cigarettes, the sweat on people; They all formed a piece, pervading the halls and rooms of Wu Mansion and the garden covering an area of 89 mu. (Mao Dun: Midnight, page 365438 +0)

When the ceremony was held, I felt a panic and a premonition of the future. I couldn't stand it. Finally, the body was put into the coffin and nailed. Then the undertaker put the coffin on the hearse and set off. I only walked with him for a block. When he got there, the driver suddenly drove the car away, and the old man ran with the hearse-crying loudly, but the running action always made the crying tremble, and. On and off. Later, his hat fell off and the poor old man didn't stop to pick it up. Although the rain hit his head and the wind blew again, the rain and snow kept stinging and hitting his face. He ran from one side of the hearse to the other, as if he didn't understand this cruel thing-the sides of his old coat were blown like wings by the wind. Every pocket of his clothes is bulging with books, with a big book under his arm and tightly held to his chest. Passers-by took off their hats and crossed their chests when the funeral procession passed by. Some passers-by stood there and stared at the poor old man in surprise. The book slipped out of his pocket from time to time and fell into the mud. Therefore, someone stopped him and told him to pay attention to his book. He stopped to pick it up, or ran to follow the hearse. At a corner of the street, an old woman in rags followed him closely until the hearse turned the corner and I finally disappeared. ([Russia] Dostoevsky: The Poor >; & gt page 64-65)

Carla's wife can't leave her husband alone in the grave. Besides, this unfortunate woman doesn't want to live alone herself. This is a custom and an obligation. This kind of martyrdom is common in the history of New Zealand. Clara's wife appeared. She is still very young. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she howled and choked, crying loudly. While crying, she complained, blurring the sound of the lake, lingering whining and intermittent sentences praising the morality of the dead. When she was extremely sad, she lay at the foot of the mound and rolled her head on the ground. At this time, the bone-gnawing demon came to her. Suddenly, the poor victim tried to stand up again, but the chief dance "Rem"-a terrible mallet-suddenly fell to the ground. She can't breathe. ([France] Verne: Captain Grant's Children, p. 664)

He glanced at the crowd standing around the grave. They are all policemen, all dressed in casual clothes, the same raincoats, the same straight black hats, and holding umbrellas like swords. These strange vigils blew them from nowhere, and their loyalty seemed unreal. Behind them, the city government band lined up in an echelon, dressed in black and red uniforms, and was urgently called. They all desperately protected the golden instruments under their coats. They just surrounded the coffin, and the coffin lay flat over there. A wooden box, without wreaths and flowers, was a warm place, buried in this endless rain, and splashed on the ground monotonously, consistently and endlessly. The priest has finished reading it. Nobody noticed. There is only rain here, and people only hear the sound of rain. The priest coughed a few times first, and then coughed a few times. So the bass horn, trombone, French horn, cornet and bass flute played together, arrogant and majestic, and the musical instrument shone golden in the rain curtain, but it also sank, dissipated and stopped. Everything retreated under umbrellas and raincoats. It's been raining. The shoes sank into the mud, and the rain merged into a river and flowed into the empty grave. ([Swiss] da Lematte: The Judge and His Executioner, p. 45)

Everything is ready for the funeral. The elders put the hearse beside the cremated woodpile. Valeria went up and closed the eyelids of the deceased. According to the custom at that time, she stuffed a copper coin into the mouth of the deceased and asked him to pay Xinglong for the boat crossing the rushing Akron River. Then, the widow kissed the dead man's lips and said loudly according to the custom, "Goodbye! We will follow you in the order arranged by God. " Musicians began to play funeral music, and the devotees slaughtered many animals designated as sacrifices in the music, mixed their blood with milk, honey and wine, and then sprinkled them around the cremation pyre. After all this, undertaker began to pour sesame oil on the woodpile, sprinkle all kinds of spices, and pile countless laurels and garlands. The wreath is multipolar, not only covering the whole woodpile, but also stacked thickly around it. Thunderous applause resounded through Mars Square, responding to the young triumphalist and the marshal who conquered Africa's respect for the dead. A flame appeared and disappeared, and then spread rapidly. Finally, the whole woodpile gave off countless winding flames and was shrouded in clouds of fragrant smoke. ([Italy] Giovanni Orly's Spartacus, p. 246)

Tagore Das Mukherjee's wife died after seven days of high fever. Old Mr Mukherjee made a fortune in the grain business. His four sons, three daughters, grandson, son-in-law, relatives and friends, and servants all arrived, as if it were a big festival. People from the village also flocked to visit this grand and decent funeral. The daughters cried and put a thick layer of rouge on their mother's feet and feet, and put a cinnabar in the middle of her hair. Daughters-in-law put sandalwood cream on her mother-in-law's forehead, wrapped precious sari, adjusted her clothes, pulled her shawl low and gave her mother-in-law a final touch. Colorful flowers, green leaves, rich sandalwood, garlands of various colors, and a' noise' make people unable to smell sadness-it seems that a rich housewife who has been away for 50 years has set off for her husband's family again as a bride. Mr. Mukherjee calmly said his last farewell to his wife, secretly wiped away two tears and began to comfort his crying daughter and daughter-in-law. "That's great! Julie! " The muffled thunder-like praise shocked the clear sky, and the whole village set off with the funeral procession ... The crematorium was on the beach by the river outside the village. Wood, sandalwood chips, ghee, honey, rosin and dill resin, all of which are needed to burn the body there, are ready. ..... When the body was burned on a huge and gorgeous woodpile ... Everyone shouted the holy name of "Great Interests" in unison, and the son took the torch purified by the curse of the Brahman priest and lit the burial fire ... It is really difficult for me to talk about the fire in the son's hand. Sister-in-law J's husband, son, daughter, grandson, relatives and friends, servants-everything in the world. ([Indian] chatterjee: Opaji's Paradise, Collection of Foreign Short Stories, pp. 462-463)

Good passage: a famous passage describing "sacrifice"

Mid-Autumn Festival in August, Galactic Night. High curative value is zero, the standard does not move, and Diao Dou is silent. Jiang Wei led 49 people to guard outside the account. Kong Ming set up a fragrant flower sacrifice in his tent. There are 7 headlights on the ground, 49 small lights outside, and a monument lamp at the core of life inside. Zhuge Liang bowed to Zhu and said, "Liang was born in troubled times and would like to be an old nymphs. He inherited the thought of Emperor Zhaolie's three visits to the cottage, and he cared for his orphans. He dared not spare the dog's efforts and vowed to be a traitor. If you don't expect the stars to fall, you will die. I would like to write a book, appealing to heaven, looking down at heaven, listening to his words, judging by it, repaying your kindness, saving people's lives, returning the past and prolonging the world of Han Dynasty. If you are afraid to pray, it is really because of your feelings. " After saying goodbye, I bent down in my tent. (Luo Guanzhong: Romance of the Three Kingdoms, pp. 900-90 1)

The woman opened the door, and Song Wu asked the soldiers to prepare soup and rice. Song Wu lit candles and put wine and plates in front of the bed. The second time on duty, the arrangement was correct. Song Wu fell to the ground and said, "Brother, the ghost is not far away! You were weak when you were alive, and you can't see clearly after you die today. If you are wronged and hurt, entrust your dream to me, and my brother will avenge you. " Pour the wine, burn the paper money, and burst into tears, making both neighbors cry. This woman still pretends to cry in it. Song Wu cried, ate soup, rice, wine and vegetables with the soldiers, begged for two cushions, and told the soldiers to sleep in the middle door. Song Wu put a cushion and slept in front of the coffin. Women go upstairs and downstairs to sleep. (Shi Naian Luo Guanzhong: The Water Margin, p. 320-32 1 p.)

This is the year-end ceremony of Luzhen, paying tribute to the gods and praying for good luck in the coming year. Kill chickens and geese, buy pork and wash it carefully. Women's arms are soaked in water, and some are wearing twisted silver bracelets. After cooking, put some chopsticks on this thing, which can be called "blessing ceremony". They were displayed in the fifth watch and lit incense sticks, and the worship was limited to men. After the worship, it is still natural to set off firecrackers. Every year, as long as we can afford gifts and firecrackers, this year will be the same. (Lu Xun; "Blessing" and "Wandering", page 2)

Religious feelings, impressions of the past, respect for ancient sacrifices and the symbol of protecting the pure white virgin all hang over all this. The church was built next to the pub, with leaves scattered on the steps, as open as a dark bay. The church is full of fragrance, candlelight shines in the dark, and the walls are covered with boatmen's offerings. The fiancé e of the missing boatman and the widow of the victim are surrounded by some amorous girls. They come out of the church of death wearing slender black veil and smooth headscarves, and their eyes are lowered, like a dark notice, quietly passing through the noise of this world. The sea not far away will always be the great nurturer and destroyer of this kind of strong men, and it is also in turmoil and noise, participating in this grand event ... ([France] Luo Wei: "Icelandic Fisherman" p. 29)