当我用手轻轻翻开书页,手中拈着的不仅是书,还有一份珍惜,一份虔诚。我的思维在书中跳跃,情感在书中起落。我觉得,读书就像在读缤纷多变的雨。读不同的书,便是在读不一样的雨。有时,读书就像读春天细细的春雨,雨的嘀嗒声奏出了轻柔的音乐。“好雨知时节,当春乃发生。随风潜入夜,润物细无声。”伴着嘀嗒的春雨,读着 When I gently open the pages of the book, the hands are not only tied to the book, there is a treasure, a devout. My thoughts are jumping in the book, emotions rise and fall in the book. I think reading is like reading a colorful rain. Reading different books is not reading the same rain. Sometimes reading is like reading the spring rain, the rain ticking softly. “Good rain season, when the spring is happening. Sneaked into the night with the wind, moisten things silently.” "With the tick spring rain, read