爱英语作文

时间：2023-05-12 16:30:01 其他类英语作文我要投稿

有关爱英语作文汇总七篇

　　在平时的学习、工作或生活中，大家都经常接触到作文吧，作文是经过人的思想考虑和语言组织，通过文字来表达一个主题意义的记叙方法。那么你知道一篇好的作文该怎么写吗？下面是小编帮大家整理的爱英语作文7篇，供大家参考借鉴，希望可以帮助到有需要的朋友。

有关爱英语作文汇总七篇

爱英语作文篇1

　　There are so many people talking about how much their mother love them,whereas seldom people realize how much love their father give them.In fact,father's love is as strong as mother's,but normally,fathers are not very good of expressing their feelings.Father's love is deep and silent,that's why most people think their father love them less.If you carefully go through your childhood memory,you will notice your father is always there when you need them,though they never said it out loud how much they love you,father's like a shelter when the storm coming,father's like a door when there is danger outside,father is someone no matter how you treat him,he will choose to bear all the pressure and let you free.So please cheer for the love of father!

　　许多人谈论他们的母亲如何爱他们,但是很少有人意识到父亲给了他们多少的爱.实际上,父亲的爱和母亲的.爱一样强烈,但是通常父亲不是很善于表达他们的情感.父亲的爱是深沉宁静的,这就是为什么大多数人认为他们的父亲爱他们爱得少一些.如果你们仔细想想你们的童年,你们会发现,尽管父亲从不大声说出他们多爱你们,但是当你们需要他们的时候他们总会在那里.父亲是风暴来临时的避风港,父亲是外面世界危险时的家门,父亲就是那个不管你怎么对待他,他都会选择忍受一切压力而让你自由的人.所以请为父亲的爱而喝彩吧!

爱英语作文篇2

　　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3

　　People say that father’s love likes a mountain: heavy and silent. It’s heavy because he puts all his love to us and it’s silent because he does not know how to express. Faced his love, we accept it silently without saying a word to show our appreciation.

　　Before I was going to senior school, my father had never said a word to show his love to me, so that I thought he did not love me very much and sometimes I was upset about it. However, when I left home for senior school, he called me frequently and just asked me some simple questions like: how’s your study and life? When do you come home? or something like that. Gradually, I realize that he misses me although he would never say it out. So this is father’s love, not so obvious but

　　人们说，父亲的爱像一座山：沉重而无声。这是沉重的，因为他把所有的爱给我们，这是无声的，因为他不知道如何表达。面对他的爱，我们默默地接受它，不说一句话来表达我们的感激。

　　在我上高中之前，我的`父亲从来没有说过一句话来向我表明他的爱，所以我认为他不爱我，有时我是不高兴的。然而，当我离开家的高中，他经常给我打电话，问我一些简单的问题，如：你的学习和生活？你什么时候回家？或类似的东西。渐渐地，我意识到他很想念我，虽然他永远不会说出来。所以这是父亲的爱，而不是那么明显

爱英语作文篇4

　　From small to large, I think I am the happiest child in the world, because my parents' love for me is higher than the sky and deeper than the sea.

　　Once, when I was in school, I suddenly felt my head hurt so much that I could not hear the lesson. The teacher found that I was pale and not right. I asked my parents after calling the reason. In a few moments, mom and dad came. My mother hurried to me and touched my forehead and said nervously, "ah! Why is it so hot? It looks like a fever is coming to the hospital! " Mom took my hand, Dad carried my schoolbag, and we went straight to the hospital. In the car, my mother comforted me, "nothing is wrong. I will be good with you and your father in any disease. You are a man and must be strong!" When I got to the hospital, my mother hurriedly found the doctor and said, "see my son quickly!" The doctor walked over and looked at me with a glimpse of it. He said, as if nothing happened, "small things, just drop the stream!" At last, mom and Dad were relieved. When I was dripping, Dad sometimes went out to buy delicious food for me. Sometimes he went out to buy toys for me, and sometimes sat beside the bed to make me happy. Mommy massage my head for a while, press my shoulder for a while, ask me if I'm hungry or not, and wash my fruit for a while. Looking at it, my eyes moistened, and a warm current surged into my heart. Mom and Dad were very kind to me. I am the happiest child in the world. I was all right soon after mom and dad looked after them. But mom and dad are busy and thin. I can go to school, they look happy!

　　Mom and Dad, it's a book that can't be read. They give me love, I will never forget it. Now I have to study hard, find a good job when I grow up, and repay my parents.

爱英语作文篇5

　　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6

　　在我上高中之前，我父亲曾对我说了一句话来表达他对我的爱，所以我认为他不是很爱我，有时候我对此感到很苦恼。但是，当我离开家到高中的.时候，他经常给我打电话，而且只是问我一些简单的问题，比如你的学习和生活怎么样了？什么时候回家？或者是一些类似的问题。渐渐地，我意识到尽管他从不会说出来，但是他很想念我。所以这就是父爱，不是很明显但是绝对很深。

爱英语作文篇7

　　It is easy to have conflicts between children and families, because they live together for a long time and feelings are always ignored by each other. But the mother’s love to their children will never change. Sometimes I say bad words to my mother and she will forgive me soon and love me all the time. I must be a good girl.

　　孩子和家人之间经常会有矛盾，因为他们在一起生活的时间长了，总会忽略彼此的.感情。但是母亲对孩子的爱是永远不会改变的。有时我对我妈妈说了一些不好的话，她也很快就会原谅我，一如既往地爱我。我一定要做一个好女孩。

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