英语作文常用【9篇】
在日常生活或是工作学习中，大家对作文都不陌生吧，作文是一种言语活动，具有高度的综合性和创造性。相信很多朋友都对写作文感到非常苦恼吧，以下是小编收集整理的英语作文9篇，希望对大家有所帮助。
英语作文 篇1
春天到了，春姑娘悄悄的来到我们身边，它唤醒了大地上各种植物和动物。其中我最喜欢的桂花开放了，小小的，黄黄的，多可爱呀。
When spring comes, spring girl comes to us quietly. It wakes up all kinds of plants and animals on the earth. Among them, my favorite osmanthus is open, small, yellow, how lovely.
桂花不是只有黄色的，还有橙色的。桂花挨挨挤挤的。有的像是在说着悄悄话，有的在向太阳招手……桂花有的全部张开了，有的花骨朵看着饱胀的马上要破裂似的。我看着，看着，仿佛我自己就是一朵桂花，穿着黄黄的衣裳。一阵微风吹来，我就翩翩起舞。
Osmanthus is not only yellow, but also orange. Osmanthus is squeezed. Some are whispering, some are waving to the sun Some of the osmanthus flowers are all open, some of them look full and will burst soon. I look, look, as if I am a osmanthus, wearing yellow clothes. When a breeze blows, I dance.
不光是我一朵，一片桂花林都在跳舞，风停了，我不再舞蹈，静静地站在那儿，小鸟飞过来告诉我天空有多大。小狗跑过来告诉我奔跑的快乐。
It's not just me, a piece of Osmanthus forest is dancing. When the wind stops, I stop dancing and stand there quietly. The birds come and tell me how big the sky is. The dog came and told me the joy of running.
过了好一会儿，我才想起来，我不是桂花，我是在看桂花呢
It took me a long time to remember that I'm not osmanthus. I'm looking at osmanthus.
英语作文 篇2
My Friend Hsiao-mei（Little-Plum）
「我的朋友小梅」
Whenever I have a party, Hsiao-mei is always the first person I invite. She is such fun. I know that she will be able to make my other guests laugh. She does not get upset if somebody tries to tease or make fun of her, either. Hsiao-mei can also be very serious and can discuss almost anything you can think of. If it gets late before the party ends, I can always depend on Hsiao-mei to clean up the house. She never says no, even if she is very tired and would rather go straight home to bed.
英语作文 篇3
一位富翁和他儿子爱好收藏画，他们收藏了从毕加索到拉费奥等很多艺术品。常常他俩坐在一起欣赏着大师的作品。
when the vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. he was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. the father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
当越战爆发的时候，儿子投入了战争。他非常勇敢，在一次作战中因为抢救战友而牺牲了。父亲接到了通知，深深地哀恸他唯一的儿子。
about a month later, just before christmas, there was a knock at the door. a young man stood there with a large package in his hands. he said sir, you dont
know me, but i am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. he saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the
heart and he died instantly. he often talked about you and your love for art. the young man held out his package. i know this isnt much. im really not a great artist, but i think your son would have wanted you to have this. the father opened the package. it was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man.
he stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. the father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes swelled up
英语作文 篇4
armed with two over-packed suitcases， we arrived at the airport just in time for my flight。 "well， here we are， the airport，" my sister said with a sigh。 as i watched her unload my luggage， i could see the sadness in her eyes。 this was not easy on her either。
we had both been dreading this moment for the past week。 one last hug and a final good-bye and i would be on my way to a new life abroad， leaving my beloved sister behind。all my life i had loved airports。 to me they were some kind of magic gateway to the world， a place from which to start great holidays and adventures。 but today it seemed like a cold and heartless place。
as we made our way to the gate we passed through a busload of frustrated holiday goers and their screaming children。 i looked at my sister and even though her eyes were filled with tears， she was trying to keep a brave face。 "you better go or you'll miss your flight，" she said。"i am just going to walk away and not look back，" i said， "that would just be too hard。"
as i held her one last time she whispered， "don't worry about me， i'll be just fine。" "i'll miss you，" i replied， and with those last words i was off。 as promised， i did not look back， but by the time i reached the custom's office i was sobbing。 "cheer up， love，" the tall customs officer said with a smile。 "it's not the end of the world， you know。" but to me it was the end of the world， as i had known it。while boarding the plane i was still crying。 i did not have the energy to put my bag in the overhead locker， so i stuffed it on the empty seat next to mine。 as i settled into my chair， a feeling of sadness overwhelmed me。 i felt like my best friend had just been taken away from me。
growing up， my sister and i would do everything together。 born barely fifteen months apart we not only looked alike， we were alike。 we both had that same mix of curiosity and fear of all things unknown to us。one sunny summer day i was playing outside on the grass when she came up to me and said， "want to come to the attic?" we both knew that the answer to that question was always 'yes。'
we were frightened of the attic but also fascinated by its smells and sounds。 whenever one of us needed something， the other one would come along。 together we would fight the life-size spiders and battle through the numerous boxes until we found what we needed。over time the visits to the attic became less scary。 eventually there came a time when we would go by ourselves， but my sister and i stayed as close as ever。 when the time came for us to go to college， what better way than for us to go together。
my parents were pleased because that way we could 'keep an eye on each other' and of course report back on what the other one was up to。 but now that our college days were over and i was off to a foreign country， all i had left were my memories。
the plane shook heavily and the bag that i had shoved onto the seat next to me fell on the floor。 my aspirin， hairbrush and a copy of the book i planned to read were spread on the floor。
i bent over to gather them up when i saw an unfamiliar little book in the middle of my belongings。 it was not until i picked it up that i realized that it was a diary。 the key had been carefully placed in the lock so i opened it。
immediately i recognized my sister's handwriting。 "hi sis， what a day it has been today。 first you let me know that you are moving abroad and then my boss。。。"
only then did i realize that my sister had been keeping a diary for the past month and that she was now passing it on to me。 she had been scheming to start the diary for the past year but now the time seemed right。 i was to write in it for the next couple of months and then send it back to her。
i spent the rest of the flight reading about my sister's comings and goings。 and even though a large ocean separated us， at some point it felt like she was actually there。 it was only when i thought that i had lost my best friend that i realized that she was going to be around forever。
英语作文 篇5
【题目要求】
假如你是李华，你的美国网友Peter参加中国象棋网络挑战赛获得了一等奖。请根据以下提示写一封英文电子邮件向他表示祝贺。
1) 祝贺他获奖;
2) 肯定他付出的努力;
3) 询问何时方便，在网上切磋棋艺。
注意：
1)词数100左右;
2)可以适当增加细节，以使行文连贯;
3)开头和结尾已为你写好。
Dear Peter,
I am writing to offer my sincere congratulations
Congratulations again.
Yours,
Li Hua
【参考范文】
Dear Peter,
I am writing to offer my sincere congratulations to you on your winning the first prize in the Chinese Chess Network Challenge. As your friend, I just want you to know how glad I am at your success.
“Everything comes to him who waits.” For these years, you’ve shown great interest in Chinese chess and kept on practicing it every day. Not only have you read many books about Chinese chess strategy, but also you have competed in all kinds of Chinses chess contests. Finally, you succeeded in wining the online competition!
So I’m so happy that you become champion of this network challenge. At last, I hope to play Chinese chess with you so that we can make progress together. Please tell me when you have time.
Congratulations again.
Yours,
Li Hua
英语作文 篇6
这学期，爸爸把我从湖北带到深圳，到百仕达小学念书。我很快就喜欢上了这所美丽的学校，可也有不顺心的事。虽然我的语文、数学不错，但是在湖北我的英语学得很少，所以来到这儿以后，我的英语学习就很吃力。
妈妈也很着急，要我上课认真听讲，回家后还每天督促我读呀背呀。尽管我把老师每天讲的新单词都认认真真地记了下来，可是老师发下来的英语作业中，有很多别的小朋友学过的单词我却不认识，既不知道意思，又不知道该怎么读。
有一天，我在做英语作业的时候，又遇到一个英语单词“goggles”。我既不知道它的意思，又不知道怎样读。正在我手足无措的时候，我看见爸爸在用电脑查东西。电脑真是神奇，不知道的东西一会儿就查到了。我问爸爸：“爸爸，我不知道的英语单词，能在电脑查到吗？”爸爸回答：“能，你自己来找找吧。”爸爸说着，就让我坐到了电脑前。我发现电脑里有个软件叫“金山词霸”。我打开“金山词霸”，把“goggles”这个单词输进去，然后点击查询，一看，我恍然大悟，原来“goggles”是护目镜的意思啊！单词后面有个小喇叭，按一下还能发出单词的读音来。我高兴极了，一边不停地按，一边跟着电脑读。就这样，在电脑的帮助下，我学会了“goggles”这个英语单词。从此以后，“金山词霸”成了我的第二个英语老师，一遇到不认识的英语单词，我就找它帮忙。慢慢地，我的英语水平提高了，上一次英语考试，我还考了全班的第三名呢！
看！巧用电脑学英语，就是我学习英语的金钥匙。同学们，你们想试一试吗？
英语作文 篇7
Decoration at Home
many years ago, not many people wanted to decorate their houses when they received the keys to their homes. in those days, it was a common phenomenon that several family members had yo live in a small house with no private space at all. therefore, it was not necessary to decorate their house. in addition, people were hard up and had no etra money to spend on decoration.
today, however, it is quince a difference story. more and more people have their privately owned houses. also with the development of economy, people are much better off. now, they can make decoration of any kind at their will.as a coin has two sides, house decoration has its advantages and disadvantages. decorating can make the houses more beautiful, and a well-decorated house can make people feel comfortable and relaed. but that will cost a lot of money. besides, some kinds of poisonous material will cause environmental pollution and do harm to our health. therefore, when making decoration, we should avoid these disadvantages.
英语作文 篇8
Good morning. I am glad to be here for this interview. First let me introduce myself. My name is ***, 24. I come from ******,the capital of *******Province. I graduated from the ******* department of *****University in July ,20xx.In the past two years I have been preparing for the postgraduate examination while I have been teaching *****in NO.
****middle School and I was a head-teacher of a class in junior grade two.Now all my hard work has got a result since I have a chance to be interview by you .
I am open-minded ,quick in thought and very fond of history.In my spare time,I have broad interests like many other youngsters.I like reading books, especially those about *******.Frequently I exchange with other people by making comments in the forum on line.In addition ,during my college years,I was once a Net-bar technician.
So, I have a comparatively good command of network application.I am able to operate the computer well.I am skillful in searching for information in Internet.I am a football fan for years.Italian team is my favorite.Anyway,I feel great pity for our country’s team.
I always believe that one will easily lag behind unless he keeps on learning .Of course, if I am given a chance to study ****** in this famous University,I will stare no effort to master a good command of advance ******.
英语作文 篇9
there were three of them. there were four of us, and april lay on the campsite and on the river, a miture of dawn at a damp etreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. this was deer lodge on the pine river in ossipee, new hampshire, though the lodge was naught but a foundation remnant in the earth. brother bentleys father, oren, had found this place sometime after the first world war, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude abounding here. now we were here, post world war ii, post korean war, vietnam war on the brink. so much learned, so much yet to learn.
peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a cooper hawk that had smashed down through trees for a squealing rabbit, yap of a fo at a youngster, a skunk at rooting.
we had pitched camp in the near darkness, ed leblanc, brother bentley, walter ruszkowski, myself. a dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a loggers path) flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought wed again have no traffic, came a growling engine, an old solid body van, a chevy, the kind i had driven for frankie pike and the lobster pound in lynn delivering lobsters throughout the merrimack valley. it had pre-ww ii high fenders, a faded black paint on a body youd swear had been hammered out of corrugated steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer of ammunition on the band. they could have been conscripts for emilano zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.
"mornin, been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. his hands were large, the fingers long and i could picture them in a shop barn working a primal plane across the face of a maple board. custom-made, old elegance, those hands said.
< 2 >
"barely had coffee," ed leblanc said, the most vocal of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "weve got a whole pot almost. have what you want." the pot was pointed out sitting on a hunk of grill across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. the pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, wed gone back to get it. when we fished the pine river, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though wed often unearth our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. it is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon in you, stoke last evenings cheese and pepperoni. first man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. that means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers of false dawn. i suspect thats where "scrambled eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. so, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.
"youre early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." eddie added, his invitation tossed kindly into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "we have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." we have the food of kings if you really want to know. there were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 main street, saugus, massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.
"been there aready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old boy scout sash across his chest, the galay of flies in supreme positioning. they were old yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three oclock to get here at this hour. they were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. that fact alone would win any of us over. obviously, theyd been around, a heft of time already accrued.
< 3 >
then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. it was not a timid banging, not a minor signal. bang! bang! it came, and bang! again. and the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "im not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab away." a toothless meshing came in his words, like walter brennan at work in the jail in rio bravo or some such movie.
"comin, pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout sash riding him like a bandoleer.
they pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show his venerable self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley cars. across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lakes three-pounder. but on the pine river, upstream or downstream, under alders choking some parts of the rivers flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge and phantom trout hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.
"oh, boy," eddie said at an aside, "theres the boss man, and look at those tools." admiration leaked from his voice.
rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied, and his venerable self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. i was willing to bet that my sister pat, the dealer in antiques, would scoop up that rocker if given the slightest chance. the old one looked about the campsite, noted clothes drying from a previous days rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut and true in its epanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt raccoons with smelly cork handles, no garbage in sight. he nodded.
we had passed muster.
"you the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever year. we knowed sunthin bout you. never disturbed you afore. but we share the good spots." he looked closely at brother bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "your daddy ever fish here, son?"
< 4 >
brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "a ways back," brother said in his clipped north saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. old oren bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge, and a great curve in the pine river so that a miles walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. paradise up north.
his venerable self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "knowed him way back some. met him at the iron bridge. we passed a few times." instantly we could see the story. a whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. he pointed at the coffeepot. "the boysll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. ill sit a while and take some of thet." he said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before i knew why.
the white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. he spoke to his sons. "you boys be back no moren two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."
the most orderly son said, "sure, pa. two-three hours." the two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the pine river, their boots swishing at thigh line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered limbs, eperience on the move. trout beware, we thought.
"we been carpenters fever," he said, the clip still in his words. "those boys a mine been some good at it too." his head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur of the stream a tinkling idyllic music rising up the banking. old venerable himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing taking place. he was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. it said, "im paying attention and i know you are. this is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in may with the mayflies, in june with the black flies." the gift and the scourge, wed often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.
< 5 >
brother was still at memory, we could tell. silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. a bird talked to us from a high limb. a fo called to her young. we were on the pine river once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in paradise.
"names roger treadwell. boys are nathan and truett." the introductions had been accounted for.
old venerable roger treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "you boys wouldnt have a couple spare beers, would ya?"
now thats the way to start the day on the pine river.