有关爱英语作文九篇
在平凡的学习、工作、生活中，大家对作文都不陌生吧，作文是通过文字来表达一个主题意义的记叙方法。一篇什么样的作文才能称之为优秀作文呢？以下是小编帮大家整理的爱英语作文9篇，欢迎大家借鉴与参考，希望对大家有所帮助。
爱英语作文 篇1
Father
Dear father, Father’s Day is coming. I，d like to say something to you. You always work hard so that I can receive a better education and live a better life. You are strict with me in my study and help me with my homework. When I failed an exam, you encour-aged me to be confident and keep trying. When I had trouble in life, you always told me to be brave and smile at life. You have given me so much, not only in my study but also in my life. Thank you for your deep love. Thank you for all that you have done for me. I love you! I hope you will be healthy and happy forever! Happy Fathers Day! Yours, Li Hua
亲爱的父亲，父亲节即将来临。我想对你说些什么。你总是努力工作，这样我就可以得到更好的教育，过上更好的生活。在我的学习中你对我很严格，帮我做家庭作业。当我考试不及格，你鼓励我要有信心，继续努力。当我在生活中遇到困难时，你总是告诉我要勇敢和对生活微笑。你给了我这么多，不仅在我的`学习，而且在我的生活中。谢谢你对你的爱。谢谢你为我所做的一切。我爱你我希望你永远健康快乐！父亲节快乐！你的，李华
爱英语作文 篇2
Mother’s love wins people’s praises for its selflessness. In fact, father’s love is as great as that. They bury their love in the deep bottom of their hearts and will never show it. My father is of this kind. I remembered once I felt ill. Mother wasn’t at home at that moment. Father acted as a father and as a mother as well. When he came home from work, he would cook dinner for me first. The way he fed me made me think of my kind and tender mother. His eyes were full of love and expectation. I did feel a father’s love at that time.
爱英语作文 篇3
Father‘s love
All say that love is great and selfless, in fact, fatherly love is express volumes.
My father is a carpenter, a black and a white hair, a pair of one‘s eyes brimming with radiating vigour eyes, big nose is a lovely catfish mouth. This is my ordinary father.
My father is a real redneck, usually not much words, silent as a mountain. But the simple, honest, can not cover up the elegant temperament, he always pay attention to their words, in their own words and deeds to tell me the truth in life.
Once, my father took a wooden work, nor let the father on the door to do color pretty, red. My father came home for dinner, thinking of this, watch TV and thinking about it. I couldn‘t help, complained: " Dad, you still think which! You play nice, people do not give you money, play is not pretty, and they will not give you the money, but also so much, why old miss! "
Father says: " no no, play beautiful even though he does not give me money, but I the performance obtained his approval, he will be looking for me to do the work, not to give me that money is a matter? " Father smiled, " if I don‘t do well, don‘t just give me your name was bad? Even if he can‘t find me working, we are a friend, I do not lose. "
From the mouth to spit out the catfish such beautiful words! Looked at his father‘s smiling eyes, my long time of taste of the beautiful words.
The lush mountain never abandon every blade of grass, a towering mountain never give up a stone. My father is a mountain, he bit by bit and caress me grow up healthy, in my eyes, this mountain, more and more high. Father‘s love!
爱英语作文 篇4
Motherly love by its very nature is unconditional. Mother loves the newborn infant because it is her child, not because the child has fulfilled any specific condition, or lived up to any specific expectation.Unconditional love corresponds in one of 'the deepest longings, not only of the child, but of every human being; on the other hand, to be loved because of one's merit, because one deserves it, always leaves doubt: maybe I did not please the person whom I want to love me, maybe this or that--there is always a fear that love could disappear. Furthermore, "deserved" love easily leaves a bitter feeling that one is not loved for oneself, that one is loved only because one pleases, that one is, in the last analysis, not loved at all but used. No wonder that we all cling to the longing for motherly love, as children and also as adults. The relationship to father is quite different. Mother is thehome we come from, she is nature, soil, the ocean; father does not represent any such natural home. He has little connection with the child in the first years of his life, and his importance for the child in this early period cannot be compared with that of mother. But while father does not represent thenatural world, he represents the other pole of human existence; the world of thought, of man-made things, of law and order, of discipline, of travel and adventure. Father is the one who teaches the child, who shows him the road into the world. Fatherly love is conditional love. Its principle is "1 love you because you fulfill my expectations, because you do your duty, because you are like me." In conditional fatherly love we find, as with unconditional motherly love, a negative and a positive aspect. The negative aspect is the very fact that fatherly love has to be deserved, that it can be lost if one does not do what is expected. The positive side is equally important.
爱英语作文 篇5
my son brendan cried his first day of school. even mrs. phillips, a kind, soft-spoken master of the si-year-old mind, could not coa 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 wasnt that brendan didnt like school. he just didnt like being apart from me. wed 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 couldnt 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 didnt 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 childs soul. my mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boes and his dog grown old and him saying, "dry up, mom. its not like im leaving the country." in my mind i tore up the card every mother signs saying shell let her child go when hes 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, youre si for me forever." with a smile i had to really dig for, i blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.
爱英语作文 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 next 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 expression of life, of love. I glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance.
The next 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 exchange 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 next 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 about 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 about something from my past, Herman," Roma explains 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 about each other-after all, we were young, and we only exchanged 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 explode, 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 don't 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.
Valentine's Day, 1996. I bring Roma to the Oprah Winfrey Show to honor her on national television. I want to tell her in front 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."
爱英语作文 篇7
Our mother is the one who gives birth to us， she is patient and kind。 When we are making mistakes， our father will be angry and beat us， but mother does the other way， she talks to our father， letting him pace and forgives for what we do。 Mother’s love is so tender， we grow up with it。 When Mothers’ Day comes， we should show our love to her。
我们的妈妈是赋予我们生命的人，她很有耐心和友好。当我们范错误的.时候，爸爸会很生气并且要打我们，但是妈妈的做法相反，她和爸爸交流，让他平静下来，原谅我们所做的。妈妈的爱如此温和，我们伴随着爱长大。当母亲节到来的时候，我们应该向妈妈表达爱。
爱英语作文 篇8
Mother's love in the world is great. Sometimes, when you are sick, a mother's love will bring her mother to take care of you for your work. The heavy rain, love will make the mother an umbrella for you, they shower like "soaked through"...... All of these can show my mother's love for you, and I'll tell you about my mother's love.
That night, I feel like I'm in the refrigerator, cold, and head pain and dizziness, I caught a cold. When I was dizzy, I found myself lying on my mother's warm back. My mother found me uncomfortable and took me to the hospital. "But it's 12 now. Where is the hospital open?" I asked my mother. The mother said, "the hospital is open at night, not far from here." There is a hospital in front of me, but I still believe my mother. But who knew my mother had been carrying me back for almost two hours before she got to the hospital. Originally, mother afraid I want to walk, lie to me to say not far. To the hospital, the doctor prescribed some medicine, also said to the liquid cotton with press in my temple, head will slowly not pain. When the doctor said, my mother said to me, "I will help you press. You go to bed." I fell asleep after hearing my mother's words. By the time I woke up in the morning, my mother was still pressing for me. My mother took care of me all night, and she did not sleep at all, even if there was no complaint.
This is what I feel motherly love, this is the mother of their children without regret care, this is the great maternal love.
爱英语作文 篇9
This Sunday is Father’s Day. I am very happy. I’m writing a letter for you now. But my classmates are playing games.
Today is rainy. Please take care. Do you know? My study is good. There fore, don’t worry about my study. I have a good news to tell you. I have won the second award at the piano competition. Are you happy ?
On the weekend, I usually go hiking on the Song Shan Lake. We are very happy. But after we walk for a long time, we feel a little tired. When the sun goes down, we return home. I like going hiking. What about you?
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