【推荐】英文作文集合五篇
在日常学习、工作抑或是生活中，大家都尝试过写作文吧，作文是从内部言语向外部言语的过渡，即从经过压缩的简要的、自己能明白的语言，向开展的、具有规范语法结构的、能为他人所理解的外部语言形式的转化。一篇什么样的作文才能称之为优秀作文呢？下面是小编为大家收集的英文作文5篇，希望能够帮助到大家。
英文作文 篇1
初一英语作文：English Channels
There are many English channels on the net. We can visit them any time we like. Plenty of people who are good at English chat there. They are from different countries and are interested in talking about what they see,what they hear and what they think. Of course they talk in English. I think this is a convenient way to learn spoken English.
英文作文 篇2
Today is mother's day, I have no money, so he didn't buy flowers for their mothers. I am very sorry. I want to: give mom a point what gift? Me to think of it, make a card for mom. I was cut and paint and write. Finally put the CARDS ready. After, I again made a for grandma.
Mom came back from work, I am busy to bring mother slippers. Mother didn't know today is mother's day, very strange. My mother to the toilet to wash your hands, I turn on the tap. Mother to the living room watching TV, I turn on the TV. I give mom fills back again, my mother smiled. Mother going to the bathroom to wash clothes, I let my mother on the sofa watching TV, wash his clothes. Wash! Wash, wash wash. Then I looked up a look, and the mother is smiling face in the mirror.
Mother's give pleasure, joy and happiness on his face. Mother duck, oddly ask: "Vivian, why are you doing so well today?" I told mom, all the CARDS to the mother. Mother smiled happily.
英文作文 篇3
I have a good friend, her name is Lucy, we became friends since I was five years old, she is my neighbor, we play together all the time. Yesterday, Lucy got her ten year-old birthday, she hold a party in her house, as her good friend, of course I would not miss her party. I bought her a watch as the gift, in the party, we sang and danced, she has many friends, so we played the game, we felt so happy. At last, we sang the birthday song to her and took out the big cake, Lucy made her wish, we ate the cake together. We had great fun at Lucy’s party, I wish her be happy every day.
英文作文 篇4
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.’”
英文作文 篇5
Person’s life is made up of countless days, while some days may be boring, some are precious and unforgettable memories.
July 15,XX, the day I’ll never forget. It was a sunny day, but I was anxious, nervous and meanwhile, a little excited, for I was waiting for the arrival of my university admission notice. It was not until 3 pm that I finally waited the arrival of a green mail car full of hope. Only when I got the admission notice, did I believe that I was really admitted to my dream university—…university. It not only meant my past efforts and persistence not in vain, but also meant that I would say goodbye to the dull high school life, and step into the colorful university life. I was so happy and immediately called my parents to tell them the good news, and then teachers and classmates.
What an unforgettable day!
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