大意、轻信、贪婪的美文

“我的心太乱”通过精心收集，向本站投稿了5篇大意、轻信、贪婪的美文，下面是小编整理后的大意、轻信、贪婪的美文，希望能帮助到大家!

大意、轻信、贪婪的美文

篇1：放下贪婪美文

放下贪婪美文

贪婪就是贪心，得到再多都不满足，拥有再多都不满意。苛求一切，满腹怨言。贪婪是一种病态的心理，使人欲壑难平，毫无幸福感。放下贪婪，放下贪念，学会知足，懂得感恩，便天大地大，幸福满满!放下贪婪，放下虚荣，越贪婪越虚荣。追求虚无缥缈的东西，身心疲惫，生活乏味。有些东西可遇不可求，属于自己的应好好珍惜，不属于自己的决不强求。名利、权势、地位都是虚的，

放下攀比，活出自己!放下贪婪，放下抱怨，越贪婪越抱怨。贪婪的.人似乎全世界都欠他，抱怨得到的少、失去的多;抱怨生不逢时、处处遗憾。越抱怨越糟糕，越计较越烦恼。失去的不会因抱怨而回来，平凡的不会因抱怨而出彩。放下贪婪，才会更加沉稳，放下抱怨，才会逐渐好运!放下贪婪，便会释怀!贪婪是毒药，使人见利忘义，恩断义绝。贪婪是麻醉剂，使人冲昏头脑，利益熏心。

贪婪使人丑，越贪婪越丑陋。放下贪婪，便放下丑陋，计较越来越少，心态越来越好!放下贪婪，便如释重负，看淡一切，看开一切!放下贪婪，人会越来越轻松。放下贪婪，事会越来越顺利。放下贪婪，回归一颗平常心。放下贪婪，重拾真诚抵万金。放下贪欲，做一个知足之人。放下负义，做一个感恩之人。放下名利，做一个淡泊之人。放下虚荣，做一个善良之人。无论何时，若无贪婪在心头，人生处处便是福!

篇2：还是贪婪害的美文

还是贪婪害的美文

老胡从包工头那里费了很多口舌，好不容易才要回了上个月拖欠的两千元钱。

钱已到手，老胡心情很是愉悦，他背着双手，哼着小曲，一步一步往家走。

走了一半路程，在一个十字路口，老胡忽然看见前面有一团红红的，好像火一样的东西在路上来来回回滚动。

老胡的汗毛都竖起来了，他停住脚步，眼睛盯着那一团火，只见它总是忽左忽右，一刻也不歇地滚动。

“这是什么东西，莫不是人家传说中的鬼火？”老胡的心砰砰直跳。他想起这条路的右侧有一片坟地，心里越发害怕。他想现在是晚上九点多钟，还不是太晚，这团鬼火总不会老在前面转，也许一、两个小时之后，会跑到别处去，到时自己再通过这个路口。

于是，老胡往回走。可是，去哪儿呢？他想起一个久未联系的朋友，年轻的时候，曾经一同外出打工，回来后，各忙各的。他的家就在前面，于是，老胡向他家走去。

敲开他家的门，朋友喜出望外，说好久不见，太想念了。

进入他的.客厅，只见几个人围在一起，“赌钱呀？”老胡看了朋友一眼。

“没啥，没啥，就几个好友娱乐娱乐一下而已，小赌怡情。”朋友怕怕他的肩膀，对他说：“你也来凑一下。”

“我不大会，还是不要好……”老胡赶紧推脱。

“玩玩嘛，一次十元就可，赢也赢不了多少，输也输不到哪里？试试！”老胡终于被朋友拉了进去。

第一盘，老胡就赢了；第二盘，老胡又一次赢了。

“哈哈，看来你今晚运气不错呀！”朋友又一次拍着老胡的肩膀。

“也是，看来那团鬼火是让我来赚钱的。”老胡偷偷想着，忽然提高声音说：“这一次我玩大一些。”老胡想如果按照前二盘的运气，自己今晚真可让手头上的现金翻倍了。

但这一盘，老胡输了，而且输得很惨。老胡不服，他继续下大本钱，他想赶紧把输的捞回来。

也许是心太急，也许是老天想要惩罚他的贪心，不一会，老胡将现金输去一大半。朋友看着有点不忍，对他说：“要不，你停一停再来。”

这句话，触动了老胡，他很心痛摇了摇头，说：“我回去了。”

其他几个人一听，纷纷纷纷扬起头说：“也好，你明天再来。”

“不来了！”老胡心中狠狠回复了一句，恼火地走出朋友的家。

走到十字路口，那团鬼火还在。老胡一看，气不打一处来，心想：“都是你害的我，我就看看你究竟是啥！”

他走上前，原来是一个红灯笼，里面的灯还亮着的。他一脚踹了上去，发狠地骂道：“让你害我，让你害我！”

灯笼被他踹破了，鬼火也灭失了。老胡想起刚刚输掉的钱，“哎――”长长叹了一口气，抱住自己的头，蹲了下去。

其实，让老胡输钱的不是鬼火，而是老胡心中那个贪婪的魔鬼。

篇3：爱的五大意像英语美文

爱的五大意像英语美文

The Five Images of Love

Grace Rhys

GRACE RHYS—Novelist and essayist：Mary Dominic (1898), The Wooing of Sheila (1901), The Bride (1909), Five Beads on a String (essays) (1907), etc.

No one understands the nature of love; it is like a bird of heaven that sings a strange language. It lights down among us, coming from whence we know not, going we know not how or when, striking out wild notes of music that make even fatigued and heavy hearts to throb and give back a tone of courage.

The sorts and kinds of love are infinite in number, infinite as the days of the years of time. Each one of us is capable of many and various loves. We cannot love two creatures, not two dogs, with the same love. To each of those whom we love we offer a gem of different colour and value;—to the unknown Master of the heavens, ah! who shall tell of what sort is the love we offer to Him? Yet in this love, too (which is natural worship), we discover the same vibrational atmosphere that invades the soul of all lovers.

I doubt we shall not get much nearer to the nature of love by mere talking. Intellectual statements are of little use. God does not make intellectual statements, He creates. We have to find our way about in the vast medley of created things that life spreads out around us, and pick up what bits of knowledge we can as we make our way along.

Let me choose five images that will give an idea of what the awaking of this new life means.

I. Shall we not say that the creature without love is like the lamp unlit? There it is, and no one needs it. But touch it with flame, and it trembles and glows and becomes the centre of the room where it stands. Everything that falls under its rays is new-gilt. So does the lover see all natural things quite new.

II. Or take the image of the withering plant that is dying of drought. The sun’s rays have parched it; the roots have searched and searched for moisture in a soil that grows every day harder and drier. The plant wilts and hangs its head; it is fainting and ready to die, when down comes the rain in a murmuring multitude of round scented drops. the purest thing alive, a distilled essence, necessary to life. Under that baptism the plant lifts itself up; it drinks and rejoices. In the night it renews its strength; in the morning the heat it has had from the sun, reinforced by the rain, bursts out into coloured flowers. So I have known a man battered by hard life and the excess of his own passions: I have seen love come to such a man and take him up and cleanse him and set him on his feet; and from him has burst forth a flood of colour and splendour—creative work that now lends its fiery stimulus to thousands.

III. Another image might be of the harp that stands by itself in golden aloofness. Then come the beautiful arms, the curving fingers that pluck at the strings, and the air is filled with melody; the harp begins to live, thrilling and rejoicing. down to its golden foot.

IV. Or picture the unlighted house, empty at fall of night. The windows are dark; the door shut; the clean wind goes about and about it, and cannot find an entrance. The dull heavy air is faint within; it longs to be reunited to the wind of the world outside. Then comes the woman with the key, and in she steps; the windows are opened, the imprisoned air rushes out, the wind enters; the lamps and the fire are lit; so that light fills windows and doors. The tables are set, there is the sound of footsteps; and more footsteps. The house glows and lives.

One could please oneself by many more images; such as the white garment of feathers that the young swans put on in the spring: the young flowers opening out their cups to the Sun that fills them with his golden wine. All life is full of such images, because nature has ruled that love, energy, beauty, and joy are one.

V. A last image only I would like to add because of the pleasure it has given me. On the north door of the Cathedral of Chartres there is a sculptured design, some six hundred years old, of God creating the birds. God is charming, quite young, not more than thirty-eight or so; He has a most sweet expression. Behind Him a little stands the Son, about seventeen, tall as He and very like Him, but beardless. He has the same sweetness of look, as though upon each countenance an ineffable smile were just dawning. The Father is holding something that time has broken in His hand; most likely it is a bird. What a fortunate moment! What a fortunate thought! No wonder they both look pleased. Never have the birds disappointed Him as have we, His ruder children. Every spring since then these small creatures praise Him, head turned skywards, for the joy of the beloved, for the secret nest.

Imagining and pondering, one is apt to grow a little wise; now perhaps we may say that love is a radiant atmosphere of the soul, a celestial energy, a fluid force.

This force, this energy is set running in the wide kingdom that is within us by some Spirit touch. A soft tumult takes place in the life within; waves on waves of joy, desire, grief, ecstasy begin to run, making a trembling music that often causes the whole body to shake and tremble too.

I am in love with love; I do adore it;—from the smile on that rough fellow’s face as he talks to his dog, to the ardours of a St. Francis or a Joan of Arc. That bright creative flame, winged, conferring the gift of tongues, master of all music, of all joy, is the best thing we have of life.

篇4：原谅我感性的欲望和贪婪美文

原谅我感性的欲望和贪婪美文

请原谅我的感性。

我学着一个理性的专业，却是一个感性的人。在电学里感性电路电压超前电流，电压是一股强而有力的冲劲儿，它是一切电路的必要条件，也是最危险的条件之一。电流似水，疏通脉络，从而水到渠成。

请原谅我是一个感性的人，我会为了一部电影，一首歌而去干与之相关的事。看了《心花怒发》和听了黄渤的《去大理》我就有了去大理和丽江的冲动。看了《全城高考》我开始了学吉他。看了《不能说的秘密》我又有学钢琴的想法。这个暑假好想去大理和丽江，邀上两三个好友一起去这梦幻般的城市住上半个月，记录沿途的一切风景，虽然我不知道他们是否愿意去，但我还是想着渴望着。

请原谅我是一个感性的人，我喜欢你，但我真的不擅长表达。我想送你件礼物，即使我们以后毕业了，分开了，也希望你能记住有这样一个男孩在你生命中出现过，他曾经很喜欢你，但出由于某种原因他不能告诉你。可我会在一个毫无意义的日子里送一件毫无意义的东西给我在乎的人，达到的效果或许还会南辕北辙。曾经有个人问我为什么有送，我当时没回答，或许我连自己都不知道原因，只是想到了就做了，没有考虑太多的前因后果。

请原谅我是一个感性的人，经常有人说我这件事不能做，这件事做错了。对不起，我的世界里只有我是否愿意，没有程度用词也。有人说我把太多的缺点掩饰成感性二字，每个人的理解都不一样，既然你没法活在我的世界里那就请你主动出局。

我渴望着那场说走就走的旅行，渴望那层爱与不爱之间的爱恨情仇的体会，渴望那场单纯的爱与不爱。请原谅我是一个感性且带有欲望和贪婪的人。

因为这才是我，真正的带着血肉的我。