愛英語作文

時間：2023-05-01 11:52:20 關于愛的作文我要投稿

關于愛英語作文匯編六篇

　　在日常生活或是工作學習中，大家都嘗試過寫作文吧，根據(jù)寫作命題的特點，作文可以分為命題作文和非命題作文。為了讓您在寫作文時更加簡單方便，以下是小編幫大家整理的愛英語作文6篇，僅供參考，希望能夠幫助到大家。

關于愛英語作文匯編六篇

愛英語作文篇1

　　my son brendan cried his first day of school。 even mrs。 phillips， a kind， soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind， could not coax him to a seat。 his eyes streamed， his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a strawberry。 i plucked him off and escaped。

　　it wasn't that brendan didn't like school。 he just didn't like being apart from me。 we'd had some good times， he and i， in those preschool years。 we played at the pool。 we skated on quiet morning ice。 we sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighborhood coffee parties。 now in grade 1， brendan was faced with five hours of wondering what i was doing with my day。

　　brendan always came home for lunch， the only one of his class not to eat at his desk。 but once home， fed and hugged， a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow—he wanted to go back to school to play! so i walked him back， waited with him until he spotted someone he knew， then left。 he told me once that he watched me until he couldn't see me anymore， so i always walked fast and never looked back。

　　one day when i took brendan back after lunch， he spied a friend， kissed me goodbye， and scampered right off。 i went， feeling pleased for him， celebrating his new independence， his entry into the first-grade social loop。 then—i didn't know why—i glanced back。 and there he was。 the playground buzzed all around him， kids everywhere， and he stood， his chin tucked close， his body held small， his face intent but not sad， blowing me kisses。 so brave， so unashamed， so completely loving， brendan was watching me go。

　　no book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick， raw glimpse into my child's soul。 my mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog grown old and him saying， "dry up， mom。 it's not like i'm leaving the country。" in my mind i tore up the card every mother signs saying she'll let her child go when he's ready。 i looked at my brendan， his shirt tucked in， every button done up， his toes just turned in a bit， and i thought， "ok， you're six for me forever。" with a smile i had to really dig for， i blew him a kiss， turned and walked away。

愛英語作文篇2

　　今天傍晚，我本以為我的父親會在學校出現(xiàn)，并遞給我一份熱氣騰騰的美食，可他，卻缺席了。這令我很傷心，也很失落，當我看到其他（她）同學的父母來送飯，有說有笑，心里別提有多難受了。我失望傷心地走在操場上，一個足球飛過來。砰一下飛在我頭上，差點昏在那兒。痛苦，失落，傷心圍繞著我，我竟哭了起來，那幾個玩球的人也落荒而逃。這時有一個聲音“鄭錦霞怎么哭啦？”

　　我一抬頭，見是Miss黃，便把眼淚抹了抹說“沒什么�！�

　　Miss黃一眼就看出來了“是不是爸爸媽媽沒來？你看，鴨肉。想不想吃？那就不要哭了，吃點東西吧！”

　　我看了一眼，里面不僅有鴨肉，還有紅辣椒和青椒�？谒绷�，沒想到平時兇狠的Miss黃卻有天使般的樣子。我嘗了一個，感覺還挺好吃，便狼吞虎咽地吃進肚子里，Miss黃看了，笑著說：“你看你，像不像個老人，并且長著青色和紅色的胡子�！蔽姨蛄颂蚴郑残α�。我的心平靜了。

　　這是一份多么及時的.愛呀，如果沒有她的話，說不定，我的眼睛都會哭腫。

愛英語作文篇3

　　i get love from parents, teachers and classmates. but the best one is parents’ love. my parents look after me as well as they can. they often wash cloths for me and have a talk with me.

　　they also help me with my lessons. but there are lots of rules at my home. my parents ask me to listen carefully in class and not to waste time. they all care about me.

　　i love my parents, i love my family!

愛英語作文篇4

　　mother's love

　　mother's love is the greatest in the world。 one evening， it was raining hard and it was very dark outside。 suddenly i got a bad headache。 my mother felt my head and found that i had a high fever。 she was so worried that shi took me on the back to thenearby hospital at once。

　　at that time， it was about midnight and it was raining even harder。 i looked down at my mother andfound that she was walking hard in the heavy rain。 i couldn't keep back my tears。 when she was too tired to walk on， she letme down。 but when she found i could hardly stand， she took me on the back again and went on walking。 when we got to the hospital， she was out of breath。 the doctor looked me over carefully and let me take some hot water and some medicine。

　　on the way home， i felt a little better。 so i told my mother that could walk slowly by myself。 but mother took me in the back without a word。 when we got home， mother fell to the floor。 she was too tired! the next day i felt much better， but mother got ill。

　　what a great mother! how great mother's love is !

愛英語作文篇5

　　Occasionally, without warning, the drunken wreckage of my father would wash up on our doorstep, late at night, stammering, laughing, reeking of booze. Bang! Bang! Bang! Beating on the door, pleading to my mother to open it.

　　有時候，在毫無預兆的情況下，父親會半夜醉醺醺地出現(xiàn)在我們家門口，結結巴巴地講著酒話，時而大笑幾聲，滿嘴酒氣。砰！砰！砰！大力敲著門，懇求母親為他開門。

　　He was on his way home from drinking, gambling, or some combination thereof, squandering money that we could have used and wasting time that we desperately needed.

　　他要么剛剛喝完酒回來，或賭了幾把，要么兩者皆有。他揮霍著我們本可以用于日常開銷的血汗錢，還浪費了我們迫切需要的時間——和父親在一起的時間。

　　It was the late-1970s. My parents were separated. My mother was now raising a gaggle of boys on her own. She was a newly minted schoolteacher. He was a juke-joint musician-turned-construction worker.

　　那是20世紀70年代末。我的父母離婚了。那時，母親獨自一人撫養(yǎng)著我們幾個兒子。她是一位新上任的老師。父親原本是一名鄉(xiāng)間酒館的駐場樂師，后來成了建筑工人。

　　He spouted off about what he planned to do for us, buy for us. In fact, he had no intention of doing anything. The one man who was supposed to be genetically programmed to love us, in fact, lacked the understanding of what it truly meant to love a child—or to hurt one.

　　他喋喋不休地說自己計劃為我們做什么、買什么。事實上，他根本不打算做任何事情。一個在血緣關系上本應該愛我們的人，實際上并不懂得對孩子而言什么才是真正的愛，也不知道什么是傷害。

　　To him, this was a harmless game that kept us excited and begging. In fact, it was a cruel, corrosive deception that subtly and unfairly shifted the onus of his lack of emotional and financial investment from him to us. I lost faith in his words and in him. I wanted to stop caring, but I couldn’t.

　　對他來說，這是一種并無惡意的游戲，它讓我們時而興奮，時而覺得像在乞討。但這實際上是一種侵蝕性的殘酷欺騙，它巧妙卻又不公平地將他對我們缺乏感情和物質投入這一責任轉移到我們身上。我不相信他的話，對他完全不信任。我想不去在乎他，但我做不到。

　　Maybe it was his own complicated relationship to his father and his father’s family that rendered him cold. Maybe it was the pain and guilt associated with a life of misfortune. Who knows. Whatever it was, it stole him from us, and particularly from me.

　　也許是他與自己的父親及其復雜的家庭關系，使他變得冷酷。也許是他生活的不幸所造成的痛苦和內疚使然。誰知道呢。不管是什么，反正它把他從我們這里偷走了，特別是從我這里。

　　While my brothers talked ad nauseam about breaking and fixing things, I spent many of my evenings reading and wondering. My favorite books were a set of encyclopedias given by my uncle. They allowed me to explore the world beyond my world, to travel without leaving, to dream dreams greater than my life would otherwise have supported.

　　當我的兄弟們沒完沒了地談論怎樣拆解破壞再重修東西時，我卻在許許多多個晚上潛心閱讀和思考。我最喜歡的書是我叔叔給的一套百科全書。這些書讓我探索超越我成長天地以外的大世界，足不出戶隨心旅行，做那些遠非我生活所能承載的美夢。

　　But losing myself in my own mind also meant that I was completely lost to my father.

　　但沉醉在自我意識里，也意味著在父親眼中我變得完全陌生了。

　　He could relate to my brothers’ tactile approaches to the world but not to my cerebral one. Not understanding me, he simply ignored me—not just emotionally, but physically as well. Never once did he hug me, never once a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder or a tousling of the hair.

　　他能明白我兄弟們那種打打鬧鬧闖世界的方式，卻從不懂我心田開智慧的那一套。他不理解我，就干脆無視我——不僅情感關懷欠奉，對我根本視若無睹。他從來沒有擁抱過我，從沒拍過我的后背，也不會搭我的肩膀或撥弄一下我的頭發(fā)。

　　My best memories of him were from his episodic attempts at engagement.

　　他留給我的最美好回憶是他時不時地嘗試和我們接觸。

　　During the longest of these episodes, once every month or two, he would come pick us up and drive us down the interstate to Trucker’s Paradise, a seedy, smoke-filled, truck stop with gas pumps, a convenience store, a small dining area and a game room through a door in the back.

　　這些插曲中持續(xù)時間最長的是，每隔一兩個月，他會來接我們，沿著州際公路驅車把我們帶到卡車司機樂園。這是一個破爛、煙霧繚繞的載貨汽車停車場，有加油站、一家便利店、一個小小的用餐區(qū)，還有穿過背后一扇門即可到達的一間游戲室。

　　My dad gave each of us a handful of quarters, and we played until they were gone. He sat up front in the dining area, drinking coffee and being particular about the restaurant’s measly offerings.

　　父親給我們每個人一把硬幣，我們一直玩到輸光硬幣才停下來。他就坐在用餐區(qū)前面，一邊喝咖啡，一邊挑剔著餐廳里食物的份量太少。

　　I loved these days. To me, Trucker’s Paradise was paradise. The quarters and the games were fun but easily forgotten. It was the presence of my father that was most treasured. But, of course, these trips were short-lived. And so it was. Every so often he would make some sort of effort, but every time it wouldn’t last.

　　我喜歡那些日子。對我來說，卡車司機樂園的確是一個天堂。硬幣和游戲充滿了樂趣，只是容易被遺忘。最寶貴的是父親能來。但是，當然了，好景不長。事實的確如此。時而，他會努力擠出時間，但每次都不會持續(xù)很長時間。

　　It wasn’t until I was much older that I would find something that I would be able to cling to as evidence of my father’s love.

　　直到年齡漸長，我才找到一些可以體現(xiàn)其父愛的證據(jù)。

　　When the Commodore 64 personal computer debuted, I convinced myself that I had to have it even though its price was out of my mother’s range. So I decided to earn the money myself. I mowed every yard I could find that summer for a few dollars each, yet it still wasn’t enough. So my dad agreed to help me raise the rest of the money by driving me to one of the watermelon farms south of town, loading up his truck with wholesale melons and driving me around to sell them.

　　當Commodore 64型個人電腦上市時，我下定決心要買一臺，即使它的價格超出了我母親的支付能力。于是我決定自己賺錢。那年夏天，我給能找到的每一個庭院割草，每家賺幾美元，但錢還是不夠。于是父親答應幫我去籌集剩下的錢。他驅車帶我去鎮(zhèn)上南面的一家西瓜農場，把批發(fā)買來的西瓜裝上卡車，帶著我去附近的地方把西瓜賣出去。

　　He came for me before daybreak. We made small talk, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he was talking to me was all that mattered. I was a teenager by then, but this was the first time that I had ever spent time alone with him. He laughed and repeatedly introduced me as “my boy,” a phrase he relayed with a palpable sense of pride. It was one of the best days of my life.

　　天亮前，他來接我。我們閑聊了一會兒，但這不是重點。重要的`是他和我聊天。那時我已是一個青少年，但那卻是我第一次與他獨處。他笑著，并多次在向別人介紹 “這是我的兒子，”這樣四個字，被他用一種明顯的自豪語氣傳達著。那是我生命中最美好的時光。

　　Although he had never told me that he loved me, I would cling to that day as the greatest evidence of that fact. He had never intended me any wrong. He just didn’t know how to love me right. He wasn’t a mean man.

　　雖然他從未說過他愛我，但我會認定，那天是他愛我這一事實成立的最大證據(jù)。他從沒想過對我造成任何傷害。他只是不知道用什么方式來愛我。他并不是一個壞心腸的人。

　　So I took these random episodes and clung to them like a thing most precious, squirreling them away for the long stretches of coldness when a warm memory would prove most useful.

　　所以我拾起這些偶然出現(xiàn)的片段，并堅持認為它們是最珍貴的東西。我將它們珍藏著，在冷漠的記憶長河中，這些溫暖的片段最為窩心。

　　It just goes to show that no matter how estranged the father, no matter how deep the damage, no matter how shattered the bond, there is still time, still space, still a need for even the smallest bit of evidence of a father’s love.

　　我的經歷只是表明：不管父親曾經與你如何疏遠，無論他對你造成了多深的傷害，無論你們之間的紐帶是如何破裂的，你仍有時間、有空間，并且有必要去找尋哪怕是能證明父愛的最小的證據(jù)。

　　“My boy.”

　�。ㄕ纾拔业膬鹤��！�

　　A Parable of a Child

　　一個孩子的寓言

　　by Steve Goodier

　　父母說：“我有一個孩子，他/她將來會成為一名……”

　　孩子說：“我是你們的孩子，我將來會成為一名……”

　　省略號的內容由你決定！教育與經驗之間是有區(qū)別的。教育就是從閱讀文字所得到的，而經驗是從不閱讀而得到的�？匆粋€故事，你就會明白“偉大的學習來自于教育和經驗的結合”。

　　一名青年教師夢見天使出現(xiàn)在他面前，對他說：“你將會有一個孩子，他/她將來會成為一名世界領袖。你得讓她意識到自己的智慧，增長自信心，開發(fā)她果斷不失細膩，虛心而又堅韌的性格特質，你會如何為她做準備呢？”

　　夢醒時，青年教師一身冷汗。他從沒經歷過這種事情。照夢中所說的，他現(xiàn)在或將來的學生之中的任何一個人都有可能有成為他夢中聽到的那個人物。他準備好了要去幫助他們實現(xiàn)每一個志向嗎？他默默想：“既然知道了某一個學生會成為那個人物，那么我的教學方式該怎么改變一下呢？”一步一步地，他已經開始暗自籌劃了。

　　這名學生不僅需要有經歷，而且需要有人指導。他的教學方式改變了。對他而言，每一個走過他教室的年輕人都有可能成為未來的世界領袖。他看這些學生時，不是看他們曾經是什么樣子，而是看他們將來可能成為什么樣子。他以一種平和的心態(tài)期盼學生發(fā)揮最大的潛力。他在教育學生時，仿佛世界的未來完全掌握在他的教導中。

　　多年以后，他所認識的一名女子成為舉世矚目的人物。這時他才悟出，她就是那晚夢中天使所說的那個女孩。只是，她不是他的學生，而是他的女兒。在女兒一生所遇到的老師之中，他是最棒的。

　　我聽過這樣一句話：“孩子是我們給自己無法預見的某個時間、某個地點所發(fā)送出去的活信息�！笨蛇@并不僅僅是一則有關一個無名教師的寓言，而是有關你我的寓言——不論我們是為人父母，還是為人師表。而這個故事——我們的故事，其實是這樣開始的：

　　“你將有一個孩子，他/她將來會成為一名……”你來填完這個句子吧，如果不填“世界領袖”，那么“絕世好爸”也行；再要不“優(yōu)秀教師”？“妙手神醫(yī)”？“不按常理出牌的問題克星”？“鼓舞人心的藝術家”？或是“慷慨無私的慈善家”？

　　你會在何地、如何遇見這個孩子，那是一個謎�？墒�，你要相信，一個孩子的將來很有可能就取決于你給他/她所造成的影響；也要相信，孩子會出人頭地的。對你來說，任何孩子都是不平凡的，你也因此脫胎換骨。

　　A young school teacher had a dream that an angel appeared to him and said, “You will be given a child who will grow up to become a world leader. How will you prepare her so that she will realize her intelligence, grow in confidence, develop both her assertiveness and sensitivity, be open-minded, yet strong in character？”

　　The young teacher awoke in a cold sweat. It had never occurred to him before——any ONE of his present or future students could be the person described in his dream. Was he preparing them to rise to ANY POSITION to which they may aspire？ He thought, “How might my teaching change if I KNEW that one of my students were this person？” He gradually began to formulate a plan in his mind.

　　This student would need experience as well as instruction. His teaching changed. Every young person who walked through his classroom became, for him, a future world leader. He saw each one, not as they were, but as they could be. He expected the best from his students, yet tempered it with compassion. He taught each one as if the future of the world depended on his instruction.

　　After many years, a woman he knew rose to a position of world prominence. He realized that she must surely have been the girl described in his dream. Only she was not one of his students, but rather his daughter. For of all the various teachers in her life, her father was the best.

　　I’ve heard it said that “Children are living messages we send to a time and place we will never see.” But this isn’t simply a parable about an unnamed school teacher. It is a parable about you and me——whether or not we are parents or even teachers. And the story, OUR story, actually begins like this:

　　“You will be given a child who will grow up to become…” You finish the sentence. If not a world leader, then a superb father？ An excellent teacher？ A gifted healer？ An innovative problem solver？ An inspiring artist？ A generous philanthropist？

　　Where and how you will encounter this child is a mystery. But believe that one child’s future may depend upon influence only you can provide, and something remarkable will happen. For no young person will ever be ordinary to you again. And you will never be the same.

愛英語作文篇6

　　it is cold, so bitter cold, on this dark, winter day in 1942. but it is no different from any other day in this nazi concentration camp. i stand shivering in my thin rags, still in disbelief that this nightmare is happening. i am just a young boy. i should be playing with friends; i should be going to school; i should be looking forward to a future, to growing up and marrying, and having a family of my own. but those dreams are for the living, and i am no longer one of them. instead, i am almost dead, surviving from day to day, from hour to hour, ever since i was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands other jews. will i still be alive tomorrow? will i be taken to the gas chamber tonight?

　　back and forth i walk net to the barbed wire fence, trying to keep my emaciated body warm. i am hungry, but i have been hungry for longer than i want to remember. i am always hungry. edible food seems like a dream. each day as more of us disappear, the happy past seems like a mere dream, and i sink deeper and deeper into despair. suddenly, i notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the barbed wire. she stops and looks at me with sad eyes, eyes that seem to say that she understands, that she, too, cannot fathom why i am here. i want to look away, oddly ashamed for this stranger to see me like this, but i cannot tear my eyes from hers.

　　then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a red apple. a beautiful, shiny red apple. oh, how long has it been since i have seen one! she looks cautiously to the left and to the right, and then with a smile of triumph, quickly throws the apple over the fence. i run to pick it up, holding it in my trembling, frozen fingers. in my world of death, this apple is an epression of life, of love. i glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance.the net day, i cannot help myself-i am drawn at the same time to that spot near the fence. am i crazy for hoping she will come again? of course. but in here, i cling to any tiny scrap of hope. she has given me hope and i must hold tightly to it.and again, she comes. and again, she brings me an apple, flinging it over the fence with that same sweet smile.this time i catch it, and hold it up for her to see. her eyes twinkle. does she pity me? perhaps. i do not care, though. i am just so happy to gaze at her. and for the first time in so long, i feel my heart move with emotion.

　　for seven months, we meet like this. sometimes we echange a few words. sometimes, just an apple. but she is feeding more than my belly, this angel from heaven. she is feeding my soul. and somehow, i know i am feeding hers as well.one day, i hear frightening news: we are being shipped to another camp. this could mean the end for me. and it definitely means the end for me and my friend.the net day when i greet her, my heart is breaking, and i can barely speak as i say what must be said: "do not bring me an apple tomorrow," i tell her. "i am being sent to another camp. we will never see each other again." turning before i lose all control, i run away from the fence. i cannot bear to look back. if i did, i know she would see me standing there, with tears streaming down my face.months pass and the nightmare continues. but the memory of this girl sustains me through the terror, the pain, the hopelessness. over and over in my mind, i see her face, her kind eyes, i hear her gentle words, i taste those apples.

　　and then one day, just like that, the nightmare is over. the war has ended. those of us who are still alive are freed. i have lost everything that was precious to me, including my family. but i still have the memory of this girl, a memory i carry in my heart and gives me the will to go on as i move to america to start a new life.years pass. it is 1957. i am living in new york city. a friend convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. reluctantly, i agree. but she is nice, this woman named roma. and like me, she is an immigrant, so we have at least that in common."where were you during the war?" roma asks me gently, in that delicate way immigrants ask one another questions those years."i was in a concentration camp in germany," i reply.roma gets a far away look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet."what is it?" i ask.

　　"i am just thinking something from my past, herman," roma eplains in a voice suddenly very soft. "you see, when i was a young girl, i lived near a concentration camp. there was a boy there, a prisoner, and for a long while, i used to visit him every day. i remember i used to bring him apples. i would throw the apple over the fence, and he would be so happy."

　　roma sighs heavily and continues. "it is hard to describe how we felt each other-after all, we were young, and we only echanged a few words when we could-but i can tell you, there was much love there. i assume he was killed like so many others. but i cannot bear to think that, and so i try to remember him as he was for those months we were given together."

　　with my heart pounding so loudly i think it wil1 eplode, i look directly at roma and ask, "and did that boy say to you one day, do not bring me an apple tomorrow. i am being sent to another camp?""why, yes," roma responds, her voice trembling."but, herman, how on earth could you possibly know that?"i take her hands in mine and answer, "because i was that young boy, roma."for many moments, there is only silence. we cannot take our eyes from each other, and as the veils of time lift, we recognize the soul behind the eyes, the dear friend we once loved so much, whom we have never stopped loving, whom we have never stopped remembering.

　　finally, i speak: "look, roma, i was separated from you once, and i dont ever want to be separated from you again. now, i am free, and i want to be together with you forever. dear, will you marry me?"

　　i see that same twinkle in her eye that i used to see as roma says, "yes, i will marry you," and we embrace, the embrace we longed to share for so many months, but barbed wire came between us. now, nothing ever will again.

　　almost forty years have passed since that day when i found my roma again. destiny brought us together the first time during the war to show me a promise of hope and now it had reunited us to fulfill that promise.

　　valentines day, 1996. i bring roma to the oprah winfrey show to honor her on national television. i want to tell her infront of millions of people what i feel in my heart every day:

　　"darling, you fed me in the concentration camp when i was hungry. and i am still hungry, for something i will never get enough of: i am only hungry for your love."

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