爱的奉献作文【热】
爱的奉献作文1
一个周末，我早早地起了床，吃完早饭，我和妈妈商量好，今天我自己去买书，我怀揣着一百元钱，搭上公交车，来到书店门前，刚想进去，我被一阵嘈杂声给吸引住了。我顺着嘈杂声走去，只见一位衣衫褴褛的农民老大爷坐在台阶上伤心地哭着，周围围了一群人正七嘴八舌地议论着。后来一打听，原来这位老大爷每天起早贪黑地骑着三轮车进城卖菜，一大早，有一位中年妇女买了他十几斤菜，老大爷高兴得不得了，最后才发现，自己收的一百元是假钞，看到自己辛辛苦苦种的菜，却打水漂了，大爷伤心不已。
我感到非常气愤，人家老大爷进城卖点菜多不容易，买菜的人竟然这样坑骗老大爷，真是丢了我们福清人的脸。
我觉得老大爷很可怜，刚想把买书的钱给老大爷，可是一想：把钱全给了老大爷，我就没钱买书了。但是看到老大爷伤心的样子，我的心里也不好受，算了，书可以下次再买，可爱心是买不到的。我当即把一百元钱递给了那位老大爷。老大爷愣了一下，对我连声说“谢谢”，周围围观的大人连声称赞我！随后大家都自觉地掏出钱，你五十，我一百……不一会儿，大爷手上捧了一大把钱，有些大妈直接把大爷剩下的菜都买走了，看到这个场面，大爷感动得老泪纵横。我也很感动，看来世上还是好人比较多。
我想起了《爱的奉献》这首歌：如果人人都献出一点爱，世界就会变成美好的人间……
爱的奉献作文2
有一个人几十年如一日地把自己挣得钱全部捐献给教育事业，而且这些钱都是自己辛辛苦苦一脚一脚踏三轮车攒起来的，很不可思议吧！这就是感动中国的白芳礼爷爷。
今天，老师给我们读了一篇写白芳礼爷爷的文章——《驼在三轮车上的丰碑》。当老师读到“报纸往地上一铺，砖头往报纸上一放，帽子往脸上一盖，这便是白芳礼老人睡觉前的全部准备工作…”这句话时，我感觉到泪水在眼框内打转。白芳礼爷爷为了贫困的孩子能上学，自己令愿露宿街头，把攒下来的钱供孩子们念书，谁看了不会感动呢?现在有些大老板，一捐都是几百万、几千万，乃至上亿的，虽说钱都是自己挣的，可他们挣钱可比白芳礼爷爷容易的多了。再看看现在的小孩，买起东西都是几十块的，可贫困的孩子呢？别说买东西了，就连学都上不起，多可怜啊！
听了《驼在三轮车上的丰碑》这篇文章以后，我的心情十分复杂，有对贫困学生的同情，有对白芳礼爷爷的敬佩。我以后一定要节约，把自己的零花钱、旧衣服、文具捐给贫困学生。我也想长大后当一名教师，到贫困地区无偿为孩子们上课，继续白芳礼爷爷为教育事业献身的精神!
爱的奉献作文3
“只要人人都献出一点爱,世界将变成美好的人间”随着歌声,我不禁想起了抗震救灾时的情景。
20xx年5月12日，一场突如其来的大地震袭击了四川省汶川县，顿时消息就随着网络 、电视 、报纸等途径传遍了整个中国乃至整个世界。当时我正在看午间新闻，一会儿一个场景令我们一家人都惊呆了——“地震来了”下午，我到了学校，到了班里，学生们都在议论这见事，到了第二天我们学校开校务会，校长说：“昨天汶川发生了大地震，今天我们就到了表示我们爱心的时候了，我希望全体师生献出自己的爱心，明天下午把所要捐的东西交上来寄过去。”放学了，不知怎么，每个学生都与过去不同，都急忙忙的回家了，或许是早早的准备所捐的东西了吧，那首歌唱的好“要一爱到底”。
到家了，我把我的零花钱全拿了出来，把我穿得小的衣服，鞋……都找了出来，到了第二天早上，我拿到了学校，也看到其他学生拿的大包小裹的，心里感到非常高兴，到了下午，师生们都聚集在五星红旗下，把所有的物品都放在了地上，然后派人装在车上，那个场景实在是令人记忆犹心哪，一共装了10辆车，我们学校才900人不到……过了几天我看电视，看到我们唐山有一个人居然捐了10万多元，我感到十分惊讶，他说他是在30年以前的唐山大地震被人们救出来的一个孤儿，他十分感激，所以捐了他近所有的积蓄，我十分感动。
5月19日，全国人民哀悼日，那天，我们升半旗，并且默哀3分钟，在这3分钟里，5月12日那天的情景不断涌入脑海，泪水冲洗了我的脸颊 ……都到了快7月份的时候，还有人进行捐款，这世界上的爱是多么的无私，多么的伟大啊！……………………
爱的奉献作文4
“人间处处有真情，人人都要献爱心。”在今年暑假期间，我亲眼目睹了很多献爱心的事情，那些事令我感动，让我欣慰。
刚放暑假的时候，那时候是7月初，天气已经比较炎热了。我家的服装店开在中心菜市场的对面，我到店里玩的时候，经常能看到那些为了生计而奔波的骑黄包车的叔叔、拉手拉车的大伯、清扫大街的阿姨以及那些卖菜的爷爷奶奶，在炎热的天气里，他们干活的时候，豆大汗珠从额头上、脸喜欢系拿俺觥⑷缓蠡?洌?置俺鲇只?洌?媸切量唷C患柑欤?颐堑昵懊婢统鱿至艘徊θ耍??窃谀抢锷枇烁隽偈碧?唬?用刻煸缟9点到下午3点，在最热的时间段为那些辛苦工作的人免费提供凉茶，那一大碗一大碗的普普通通凉茶，在这个时候就象久旱的.甘露，就象雪中送来的炭火，给路人平添了一份温暖，一份感动。
有一天，一辆轿车经过这个临时摊位，车主像是赶了很长路的样子，一脸疲倦，一名义工看到了，她主动端了碗凉茶递到驾驶员的手上，令车主很是感动，连声道谢。没过几天，这个车主又返回了这个免费凉茶点，只见他打开汽车后备箱，天呐!这后备箱里装了整整一车厢的冰红茶，原来他是个大老板，那天喝了凉茶后，很受感动，所以饮水思源，他买来一车厢的冰红茶免费给路人解暑，以尽他的心意，这个场面真是感人，让我想起了《爱的奉献》这首歌里唱的歌词：只要人人都献出一点爱，世界将变成美好的人间。
这就是爱的最好诠释。
爱的奉献作文5
记得在我的幼儿园毕业留言簿中，有一页是妈妈给我的留言：所有的话都写在一个大“爱”字里，那个爱像太阳放射着光芒。妈妈说，我是在爱中长大的，被爱包围着的孩子是最幸福的。我说那为什么要放射出光芒呢?妈妈说，爱是互相的，你得到了爱，同样也要爱别人，那样才能像歌中唱的那样——让世界充满爱!
是啊，爱是相互的，爱更是需要奉献的。有这样一个生动的故事，它讲的是一名小女孩照顾妈妈的事，这个故事使我一生受益。听了它，我相信你也会被深深的感动。这个故事发生在苏格兰，在一个春意盎然的清晨，一个小女孩没有像其它孩子那样尽情享受童年时光，而是在厨房里忙碌着，给生病的妈妈做饭。她的妈妈生病残疾了，她每天早早起来做家务，还要到集市上去卖菜，赚钱为妈妈治病，这一切都是为了妈妈能早日康复。
曾经有一天，她妈妈哭泣着对她说：“都是我害了你，你为我付出了一切，你不要再管我了，离开我去寻找你的幸福吧。”可是女儿却说：“不行，你知道失去了父亲是多么难过吗?难道您还想让我再失去妈妈吗?……”说完哭着跑出了简陋无比的小木屋。以后无论妈妈说什么，小女孩都始终坚信：凭我的努力，一定能把妈妈的病治好。
女孩渐渐的长大，奇迹真的发生了，她妈妈的病竟然慢慢的好了起来，可以下地走动了。小女孩为生病的母亲付出了最天真烂漫的童年和如花似玉的青春，换来的是一种人世间最可贵的亲情——母女情。
读完这个故事，我热泪盈眶，有人说母爱是最伟大的，但有一种爱和母爱同样的伟大，那就是子女对父母的爱，这种亲情是一辈子都难以割舍的。回到现实中，看到我的父母一天天的容颜渐老，在我的成长旅途中无私地为我奉献着青春，金钱，还有最可贵的爱，我忽然想反思一下，我这么大了，上小学五年级了，我为他们做了什么?我只有发奋读书，将来成就一翻事业，为父母奉献我的一份孝心，一份爱。同时，我还要帮助更多的人，奉献我的爱心，让世界充满爱!
爱的奉献作文6
5月12日，四川汶川出现了7.8级大地震。至现在为止，死亡和失踪的人已经有5万多了，有的人被饿死、渴死、冷死、压死。听说这次地震比唐山大地震还厉害。为了帮助他们，全中国人民有力献力，有钱出钱。电视上说，有一位徐老师为了救出最后一位学生，她用身体把他挡住，他还活着，而徐老师死了。电视上说有一个小男孩，他对救援人员说：“叔叔，我还挺得住，你先去救他们吧。”电视上还说，有一个救援人员刚要再次钻进废墟堆里，但别人对他说：“余震又要来了，房子又要倒塌了了，别去了。”但他说：“请你们再让我去救一个吧，我还能救一个。”电视上还有许多相似的事迹，感动了十三亿中国人，也感动了我。所以，我捐了二百元，从我的储蓄罐里。虽然钱数很少，但这也是我小小的心意。我想我的一枚硬币，可以为灾区送上一瓶矿泉水或一块饼干，我想我的一百元可以买一把铁锹……只要人人都献出一点爱，世界将变成美好的人间！
爱的奉献作文7
序曲
“爱是人间的春风，爱是生命的源泉……”爱包容一切。是啊，我们不是都沐浴在爱的阳光里吗?我们拥有爱，我们也付出爱。在初三(1)班这个由五十三个不同个性的同学组成的温馨集体中，我们沐浴着爱。
第一乐章老师的爱
老师的爱，是美妙的抒情曲。
三年前，老师接纳了我们，精心的呵护着我们，耐心的教导我们;三年来，在老师的教育下，我们个个脱颖而出，成为一个个成熟的学生，而老师却在默默的奉献中渐渐老了。从老师无悔的付出中，我知道，老师爱我们!
第二乐章同学的爱
同学之间的爱，就像流行歌曲，五彩缤纷，什么都有。
有一次，我病了。一整天昏昏欲睡，上课什么都没听进去，晚上有一位同学带着笔记本给我补课，她是穿过好几条漆黑的小巷来到我家的。而这位同学，平时却是很怕黑夜的，为什么变得这么勇敢?她那关切的微笑告诉我：因为她爱我。
有一位同学的手不小心被玻璃划伤了，鲜血直流，我们心急火燎的送他前往医务室治疗，并督促他每天按时换药，他感动地说：“你们为什么这么好?”我们相视一笑，原因很简单，因为我们同属一个集体，我们爱他。
我们也有过争吵，也有过矛盾，但是这些怎么能敌得过那温馨的集体之爱?
于是友爱永远荡漾在我们的中间。
第三乐章我们的爱
我们的爱如纯朴的古典乐章。我们―是老师和学生的搭配，由于我们的默契与和谐，常让笑声响彻教室。从起初陌生的一切，到现在能只听其声，便知其人的熟悉。这其中又包含着多少故事啊!得到课间跑比赛的第二名，一同为班级荣誉付出的艰辛……各种滋味统统汇聚在一起，凝聚成两个字―关爱。为什么感情会这么深?只因为我们爱着共同的集体，初三(1)班!
第四乐章我的爱
我的爱缩小一点，就是爱我的老师，爱我的同学。我爱这个班级，这个浸润着温馨，生长着希望，跳动着幸福音符的班级!
结束曲
“只要人人都献出一点爱，世界将变成美好的人间……”歌声又响起。
是“爱”这个美好的字眼，把班级同它的成员联系在一起。我们共同关爱我班，这个集体怎能不温馨四溢?
我们班的温馨与和谐来自于我们共同的爱。
我们携手共同奏出一部我爱我班的交响乐，让它永远响彻在校园中。
爱的奉献作文8
The Devotion of Love 爱的奉献
Dear friends, you may have heard the song--The Devotion of Love. It has been very popular since 1988, and is enjoyed by more and more people. Why? Because it has been sung for the people. As long as everyone devotes a little love, the world will be even more beautiful.Whenever I hear the song, I can't help thinking of my dear teacher,Mr. Wang. He gave his life to the cause of education. He will be remembered as an engineer of the soul forever. As his student, I will never forget those days that we spent together.
He was a kind and warm-hearted man. The moment I saw him, I felt as if he were my father. In class, he was strict in our studies. But in the spare time, he was our good friend. He often taught us how to play the violin, to sing, and to draw pictures. He cared not only for our studies but also for our minds. Whenever we had difficulties in our studies or in our daily life, he would encourage us to overcome them. When we failed in our exams, he would help us, "Don't lose heart, work harder and you will succeed." On his holidays, he would give up his rest to help those who had difficulty in their studies so that they could catch up with the other students. He was just like a candle, burning himself away to provide light for other. He was such a good teacher that all of us loved and respected him.
But a year ago, word came that Mr. Wang died of cancer. Hearing this, I couldn't help crying. I remember the song of Small Grass: No sweeter than a flower, no taller than a tree…. Small grass is ordinary, but grand. Mr. Wang is a blade of small grass. He gave his students all his love. Mr. Wang will live in our hearts forever.
A Service of Love 爱的奉献
When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.
Joe came out of the Middle West with a genius for pictorial art2. At six he drew a picture of the town pump with an important citizen passing it hurriedly. This work was framed3 and hung in the drug store window. At twenty he left for New York.
Delia did things in music so well in a pine-tree village in the South that her relatives raised a little money for her to go “North” and “finish.” They could not see her, but that is our story.
Joe and Delia met in a studio where a number of art and music students had gathered to discuss all kinds of arts.
Joe and Delia fell in love with each other, and in a short time were married—for, when one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.
The couple began housekeeping in a flat. It was a lonely flat. And they were happy; for they had their Art and they had each other.
Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister—you know his fame. His fees are high; his lessons are light—his high-lights have brought him fame. Delia was studying under Rosenstock—a very strict piano teacher.
They were very happy as long as their money lasted. So is everybody. Their aims were very clear. They hoped their arts could bring them wealth and fame.
But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat—the warm chats after the day’s study; the comfortable dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions4; the mutual help and inspiration; and meat and cheese sandwiches at 11 p. m.
But after a while Art flagged5. It sometimes does, even if nobody flags it. Everything going out and nothing coming in. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Rosenstock their prices. When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard. So, Delia said she must give music lessons to make a living.
For two or three days she went out hunting for pupils. One evening she came home happily.
“Joe, dear,” she said, “I’ve a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General—General Pinkney’s daughter—on Seventy-first Street. Such a splendid house, Joe—you ought to see the front door! Byzantine6. I think you would call it. And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.
“My pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. She’s a delicate thing—dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. I’m to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! $5 a lesson. I don’t mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can once again take up my lessons with Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows7, dear, and let’s have a nice supper.”
“That’s all right for you, Dele,” said Joe, opening a can of peas with a carving knife, “but how about me? Do you think I’m going to let you hurry for wages while I enjoy the taste of high art? No! I guess I can do something, and bring in a dollar or two.”
Delia came and hung about his neck.
“Joe, dear, you are silly. You must keep on at your studies. It is not as if I had left my music and gone to work at something else. While I teach I learn. I am always with my music. And we can live as happily as millionaires on $15 a week. You mustn’t think of leaving Mr. Magister.”
“All right,” said Joe, reaching for the vegetable dish. “But I hate for you to be giving lessons. It isn’t Art. But you’re great and a dear to do it.”
“When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard,” said Delia.
“Magister praised the sky in that sketch8 I made in the park,” said Joe. “And Tinkle gave me permission to hang two of them in his window. I may sell one if the right kind of a rich fellow sees them.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Delia sweetly. “And now let’s be thankful for General Pinkney and this roast.”
During all of the next week the couple had an early breakfast. Joe was excited about some sketches he was doing in Central Park, and Delia prepared breakfast for him, praised, and kissed at seven o’clock. It was most times seven o’clock when he returned in the evening.
At the end of the week Delia, sweetly proud but tired, threw three five-dollar bills on the 8 by 10 (inches) centre table of the 8 by 10 (feet) flat room9.
“Sometimes,” she said, “Clementina tires me. I’m afraid she doesn’t practise enough, and I have to tell her the same things so often. And then she always dresses entirely in white, and that does get monotonous10. But General Pinkney is the dearest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am with Clementina at the piano and stands there pulling his white beard. ‘And how are the semiquavers and the demi-semiquavers progressing11?’ he always asks.
“I wish you could see the wainscoting in that drawing-room, Joe!”
And then Joe, with the air of a Monte Cristo12, drew out a ten, a five, a two and a one—all legal notes13—and laid them beside Delia’s earnings.
“Sold that water-colour to a man from Peoria,” he announced happily.
“Don’t joke with me,” said Delia—“not from Peoria!”
“All the way. I wish you could see him, Dele. Fat man with a woolen coat. He saw the sketch in Tinkle’s window and thought it was a windmill14 and bought it anyhow. He ordered another—an oil sketch of the Lackawanna freight depot15—to take back with him. Music lessons! Oh, I guess Art is still in it.”
“I’m so glad you’ve kept on,” said Delia heartily. “You’re sure to win, dear. Thirty-three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. We’ll have a rich dinner to-night.”
On the next Saturday evening Joe reached home first. He spread his $18 on the table and washed what seemed to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands.
Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps and bandages16.
“How is this?” asked Joe after the usual greetings.
Delia laughed, but not very joyously.
“Clementina,” she explained, “insisted upon a Welsh rabbit17 after her lesson. She is such a strange girl. Welsh rabbits at five in the afternoon. The General was there. You should have seen him run for the chafing dish18, Joe, just as if there wasn’t a servant in the house. I know Clementina isn’t in good health; she is so nervous. In serving the rabbit she spilled19 a great lot of it, boiling hot, over my hand and wrist. It hurt terribly, Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry! But General Pinkney!—Joe, that old man nearly went crazy. He rushed downstairs and sent somebody out to a drug store for some oil and things to bind it up with. It doesn’t hurt so much now.”
“What’s this?” asked Joe, taking the hand softly and pulling at some white strands20 under the bandages.
“It’s something soft,” said Delia, “that had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?” She had seen the money on the table.
“Did I?” said Joe. “Just ask the man from Peoria. He got his sketch today, and he isn’t sure but he thinks he wants another parkscape and a view on the Hudson21. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?”
“Five o’clock, I think,” said Dele . “The iron—I mean the rabbit came off the fire about that time. You ought to have seen General Pinkney, Joe, when—”
“Sit down here a moment, Dele,” said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat down beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.
“What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?” he asked.
She sat in silence for a moment or two with an eye full of love, and murmured a phrase or two of General Pinkney; but at last down went her head and out came the truth and tears.
“I couldn’t get any pupils,” she said. “And I couldn’t bear to have you give up your lessons; and I got a place ironing shirts in that big Twenty-fourth Street laundry22. And I think I did very well to make up both General Pinkney and Clementina, don’t you, Joe? And when a girl in the laundry set down a hot iron on my hand this afternoon I was all the way home making up that story about the Welsh rabbit. You’re not angry, are you, Joe? And if I hadn’t got the work you mightn’t have sold your sketches to that man from Peoria.”
“He wasn’t from Peoria,” said Joe slowly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter where he was from. How clever you are, Joe—and—kiss me, Joe—and what made you ever think that I wasn’t giving music lessons to Clementina?”
“I didn’t,” said Joe, “until to-night. And I wouldn’t have then, only I sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a girl upstairs who had her hand burned with an iron. I’ve been firing the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks.”
“And then you didn’t—”
“My purchaser23 from Peoria,” said Joe, “and General Pinkney are both creations24 of the same art—but you wouldn’t call it either painting or music.”
And then they both laughed, and Joe began:
“When one loves one’s Art no service seems—”
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. “No,” she said—“just ‘When one loves.’”
爱的奉献作文9
清风拂在脸颊，吹走了内心的不安与焦躁；阳光温暖至心，照耀在心灵之窗绽放幸福之花。爱心之车启程，向社会弱势群体与贫困家庭送去爱心，让他们可以像我一样快乐地玩耍，脸上洋溢着幸福的红晕。8月24日，我参加了向农村留守儿童和孤寡老人送爱心活动，献上自己的一份绵薄之力。
我们到了一个看起来非常贫困的村子，下了车，穿过几条泥泞的路，终于到达了第一站，这一家非常贫苦，姐弟两个自幼没了母亲，随父亲长大，姐姐名字叫游丽华，一边要照料父亲和弟弟，一边又要挑起生活的重担，不过学习非常好，总是名列前茅。我们进了他们的房间，只见墙上密密麻麻地贴满了奖状，这都是姐弟俩努力学习的结晶。我们送上了生活用品、文具、书，他们非常感谢，姐姐的眼眶红了，她不停地说：“谢谢你们，我一定会继续努力……”这时，我的视线模糊了，眼眶中充盈着泪水，游丽华的家庭条件这么艰苦，但她的学习没有落下，她那小小的身体扛着那么大的重担，却不负众望，撑了下来。
走出了游丽华家，我们又去第二家、第三家贫困家庭送去了爱心，他们纷纷表示感谢，并夸赞我们是好心人。
临近中午，我们顶着骄阳，来到了第四家，这时已是汗流浃背，这个女孩的妈妈在她小时候就离开了她，听了这些，我们都很心酸，我赶忙上前一把抱住她，轻声对她说：“姐姐，我们知道你很苦，所以，我们尽自己的绵薄之力来帮助你，倘若你有什么难处，以后尽管来找我，我一定会尽全力帮助你，你学习那么好，可要多多告诉我秘诀。”我送上了书籍和一些零食，那个姐姐笑了笑：“我一定会努力的！”我们纷纷鼓掌，之后，便依依不舍地离开了。
返回了家里后，我深有感触：我有那么好的学习条件，却总是虚度光阴；他们学习环境那么差，却总是名列前茅，我应该向他们学习。
爱的奉献作文10
我心目中的绿色生活是没有战争、疾病、贫穷、污染，充满爱的幸福生活。
从小到大，我就像一棵小树苗，沐浴着爱的阳光雨露，茁壮成长。那天，当我听到易太中心学校胡娟同学的不幸遭遇：妈妈去世，爸爸长期患有精神疾病，而她自己竟得了“白血病”。我的心灵震撼了。回到家，我迫不及待地打开电脑，上网查有关“白血病”的资料。得知这是一种很可怕的病魔。我的眼前仿佛出现了这样一幅图画：一棵小树正经受着狂风暴雨的袭击。它左右摇晃，树叶飘零，如果没有人及时给它遮风挡雨，随时都有可能折断。
我决定拿出自己的20元零花钱捐给胡娟同学，此举得到了爸爸妈妈的赞同。我想：如果每个同学都献出自己的一点爱心，那么胡娟同学就有救了。果然，学校倡导的捐款号召，得到了全体老师和同学们的积极响应。几天下来，总共收到捐款22891。1元。在捐款仪式上，当我们校长把捐款递到胡娟同学亲人的手中时，他感动得热泪盈眶。就在这时，我耳边似乎响起了那动人的旋律：只要人人都献出一点爱，世界将会变成美好的人间……
让我们敞开胸怀，用心中的爱照亮仍在黑暗中受病痛折磨的人吧！只要心中有爱，哪怕是在寒冬腊月，生活的每一天都可以如沐春风。
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