英语作文写作—描述性写作
描述性定义英语作文模板
描述性定义英语作文模板Descriptive Definition of an English Essay Template。
An English essay template is a structured framework that provides a clear and organized layout for writing an essay in the English language. It serves as a guide for students and writers to effectively present their ideas, arguments, and analysis in a coherent and logical manner. The template typically includes an introduction, body paragraphs, and a conclusion, each with specific guidelines for content and structure.Introduction:The introduction of an English essay template is designed to grab the reader's attention and provide background information on the topic. It usually consists of a hook, which can be a quote, a question, or a thought-provoking statement, followed by a brief overview of the topic and a thesis statement that presents the main argument or purpose of the essay.Body Paragraphs:The body paragraphs of an English essay template are where the main content and analysis of the topic are presented. Each body paragraph focuses on a specific point or aspect related to the thesis statement and includes supporting evidence, examples, and analysis to strengthen the argument. The structure of each body paragraph typically follows the "PEE" (Point, Evidence, Explanation) or "TEA" (Topic sentence, Evidence, Analysis) format to ensure clarity and coherence.Transition:Transitions are essential in an English essay template to connect the ideas and arguments between paragraphs and ensure a smooth flow of the essay. Transitional words and phrases such as "furthermore," "however," "in addition," and "on the other hand" are commonly used to signal shifts in the discussion and maintain the coherence of the essay.Conclusion:The conclusion of an English essay template summarizes the main points of the essay and restates the thesis statement in a new light. It should not introduce new information but rather provide a sense of closure and leave the reader with a lasting impression. The conclusion may also include a call to action, a prediction, or a suggestion for further research or consideration.Language and Style:An English essay template should adhere to the conventions of academic writing, including proper grammar, punctuation, and citation of sources. The use of formal language, clear and concise sentences, and a consistent tone throughout the essay is essential to convey professionalism and credibility.Revision and Editing:A well-crafted English essay template emphasizes the importance of revision and editing to refine the content and ensure coherence, clarity, and accuracy. Writers are encouraged to review their work for any errors in grammar, spelling, or structure, and to seek feedback from peers or instructors for further improvement.In conclusion, an English essay template is a valuable tool for students and writers to organize their thoughts and present their ideas in a clear, logical, and persuasive manner. By following the structure and guidelines provided in the template, individuals can effectively communicate their arguments and analysis while adhering to the standards of academic writing.。
描述性英语作文定稿版
描述性英语作文精编W O R D版IBM system office room 【A0816H-A0912AAAHH-GX8Q8-GNTHHJ8】M y N e w R o o m m a t e It was my first day at the institute．I got into the building where 1 was going to live．My eyes searched carefully from the door of one bedroom to that of another for my name which ought to have been pasted on the door of one of these bedrooms．At last I found it．On stepping into the bedroom I found there was already in it a student who was making his bed．Having exchanged with me a few words of greetings，he resumed his arrangement of bedding and no longer paid any attention to me．“What a stuck-up fellow．”I thought and began to survey the room．It looked quite similar to any other bedroom in the building．Even the furniture in all bedrooms was uniform．It seemed my bedroom had already been thoroughly cleaned by my new roommate．He was thin，short and dark-skinned．His hair looked like a bundle of straw．His dirty clothes and lusterless eyes clearly indicated that he had had a long journey．His clothes were made of cheap cloth．His coat was too short，and the legs of his trousers were too loose．He wore a pair of unfashionable rubber shoes．Thus he did not look like a smart freshman at a11.“A yokel,” I concluded．The second time he spoke，his accent told me that he was from the south．“May I help you get your luggage from the office?”I did not decline his help because I really needed it．He was quick in movement． He walked out of the room and was soon far ahead of me in the corridor．“A good guy,” I said to myself．“I will make friends with him．”I hurried and caught up with him．My English TeacherI like most of my teachers in college．They were，for the most part，friendly and competent, willing to help students．I liked them — but I don’t remember them very well，except for Mr. Jones，my freshman English teacher．He was an enthusiastic， sensitive man，who knew his subject and was determined that we would learn it and love it, too．Mr. Jones was a tall，slender man in his mid-forties with gray, thinning hair．Perched precariously on his nose，his glasses gave him a serious look．But they didn’t remain there long，for he was always either taking them off and polishing their two pieces of glass or putting either of the two earpieces in his mouth when he was meditating a response to some question raised by a student．When on his way to our classroom，he always carried two or three books with strips of paper sticking out of them，which were for marking the passages he wanted to read to us．I remember, too， his cardigan sweaters．He must have had a dozen of them．On rainy days he would have a blue raincoat on．But what is most tenacious in my memory is his smile．When he smiled，his whole face lit up；his eyes sparkled．His smile made you feel good，at ease，and somehow reassured．Though habitually friendly and at ease with everybody, he was a bit primin classroom，and he could be stem on occasions．He never called us by ourfirst names．He obviously enjoyed his work and loved his students，but he kept his distance．He never deliberately or publicly embarrassed a student by using sarcastic language．Nevertheless he could distinctly reveal his displeasure in his own way．He’d look steadily at an offending student for quite a few freezing seconds．That was usually enough for the little culprit to be cowed．But if it didn’t work，he’d say something to the student in a lowered tone of voice．He didn’t do this often, though．Mr. Jones had personality, integrity, vitality — a11 of which made him popular；but what I liked most about him was that he was a fine teacher It was true that he cared about his students，but he cared more about teaching them his subject．And that meant homework，lots of it，and pop quizzes now and then to keep them current on the reading．He lectured occasionally to provide background information whenever we moved on to a new literary period．After a brief glance at his notes，he’d begin to move around as he talked to the blackboard to the window, back to the 1ectem．But he preferred discussion，a Socratic dialogue．He’d write several questions on the board for the next day’s discussion，and he’d expect you to be prepared to discuss them．He directed the discussion, but he didn’t dominate it：for he was a goodlistener and made sure we all had a chance to respond, whether we wanted to or not．If he was pleased with a response，he’d nod his head and smile．Occasionally he’d read a student’s essay, praising its good points and then winking at the writer as he passed it back．But he was tough-minded，too，as I suggested before．He really nailed you for sloppy work or inattention．When you got an A from him，you really felt good，for he wasn’t an easy grader．We used to complain about his grading standards，usually to no avail, though he would change a grade if he thought he had been unfair．Mr. Jones was a competent teacher．He knew what he was doing in classroom，and he could conduct his class very well．But what was more important was that he made his students fall in love with the course he offered．He led us to take the initiative in delving into it on out own．Mariak AnagianShe was ninety-two years old when I met her, a gentle，diminutive lady in European dress．Her face was deeply lined，and her coarse grey hair had yellowed with the years．She spoke softly in a quivering voice in half English and half American．Her gnarled hands testified to the years of hard work on the farm in her homeland．Yet．in her dark eyes and in her gentle manner there was a childlike simplicity as she told me her story．I thought“she has the wisdom that comes with years of experience and the gentle purity of a child—that was a wonderful but strange combination of traits．”I knew that l would never forget her．Her name was Mariak Anagian When she was a young woman，her homeland was invaded by foreign troops．She had been keeping house for her father, brothers， husband，and her two young children．One day she returned from the market and found the mutilated（残缺不全的）bodies of her father and one ofher brothers on her doorstep．They were among the many victims of the war．Mariak’s husband was much older than she，and he soon succumbed to the rigorous demands of field work and mental strain，leaving Mariak alone in the world to take care of her two small children．Many of the town’s people helped her, and she was able to produce enough on the small farm to feed her family．Shortly after the turn of the century, her daughter married and went to America．A few years later，Mariak’s daughter sent her some money which enabled her to come to the United States．Thus Mariak came to live in the United States for thirty years．As Mariak told her story, her eyes grew large with fear and her breath quickened with excitement．Then she wept．After a short time，she sat silently with her head bowed．Suddenly, she rose from the chair, lifted her skirt to just above her ankles，and began to dance in short，jerky steps．She sang almost inaudibly in her native language，but I knew it was a children’s song．Her simple melody and simple dance steps were typically those of an average child．Her eyes shone with youthful gaiety, and her voice was light and happy．Her grandson appeared at this time，spoke to her affectionately, and led her away from the room．My Dormitory BedroomMy dormitory bedroom on the second floor of Bienville Hall is small and cluttered up．Its dark green walls and dirty white ceiling make it look gloomy and thuseven smaller than it is．On entering the bedroom．one would find my bed is right in his way because it takes up half of the room．The two large windows over my bed are obstructed from view by the golden heavy drapes．Against the left wall is a large book case extending into the comer which is behind the head of my bed．The bookcase is crammed with piles of sheets of paper, books，and knickknacks．Wedged in between the bookcase and the wall opposite the bed is a small grey metal desk．Near the desk stands a brown wooden chair which fills up the left end of the room．Stuffed under the desk is a wastepaper basket overflowing with tom pieces of Paper and refuse．The wall above the bookcase and desk is completely taken up with two small posters．On the right side of the room is a narrow closet with clothes，shoes，hats，tennis racquets， and boxes bulging out of its sliding doors．Every time 1 walk out of my bedroom．I think to myself, Now I know what it is like to live in a closet．”SubwaysSubways are long，dark，gloomy, sooty tunnels under the ground．Trains with many cars clatter on steel tracks through these tunnels．The automatic doors open noisily, one at each end and another in the middle of the car．The trains have bright electric lights and long benches for passengers’comfort．There are many colorful posters on the damp metal walls of the trains．Some advertise toothpaste for the family．Many posters plead for support for charity organizations．A lot of posters urge subway riders to buy a special lime-scented deodorant or a particular lemon-oil haft tonic．A fewposters ask readers to buy this soap or that shoe polish．Most of the riders read the posters．A few of them read books or newspapers．Not many riders talk to their fellow travelers as they burrow through the earth from one end of the city to another．A Spring MorningIt was early in a morning in spring．The sun was just scrambling upward from the eastern horizon and shedding vermilion steaks to penetrate the ambient clouds that were drifting across the sky．Soon the campus was bathedin the first rays of the sun. Then the lake，the trees and the bamboos looked as if they were all gilded．The ground was covered with tender grasses and the beaded dewdrops stood on their tips and were ready to reflect the nascent sunshine．Birds flew about in the woods，twittering restlessly．Some boy students who were absorbed in reading leaned against trees with buds peeping out from beneath the gray bark．A couple of girl students were reading from their English textbooks aloud while walking up and down the gravel path around the lake where a sort of stream rose to form swirls of thin mist．It was really a morning of beauty, vigor and hope．A Pleasant SummerWhat can aptly characterize a pleasant summer should consist of such as bright sunshine，refreshing breeze，and comfortable warmth．In a pleasant summer, when the breeze is soothing，when the blue sky is heartening，and whenthe white clouds are nurturing your reverie，you cannot refrain from imagining that you are overwhelmed with heavenly bliss．The invigorating air and the intoxicating landscape are all what you need to make yourself feelirresistibly fascinated with your own life．Given them all，what else do you need to make your life more worth livingNone indeed!The beautiful landscape pampers you．The high mountains in the distance，the crystalline brook meandering in your vicinity, the verdure surrounding you，the fragrant flowers nodding to you，the birds circling overhead，the little wild beasts skittering away into wilderness，are all pleasing sights to your mind and the eyes．A walk along a pond covered with sweet lily—flowers or teeming with various aquatic growths is also a very good pastime．Even though it is rather warm in daytime，most nights in a pleasant summer can be extremely enjoyable with stars twinkling in the sky and the shining moon cascading a profusion of light onto treetops．The soothing breeze caresses your face lovingly．Musical cicadas are singing merrily from the branches of trees．What else do you want of a summer 1ike this! Nothing else indeed!A TeaspoonA teaspoon is a utensil for scooping up and carrying small amounts of something. It has two joined parts: a flat, narrow, tapered handle, by whichit is held, and a shadow, oval bowl to dip and carry liquid, food or other materials. The handle is about four inches long. It arches slightly upward at the wide end. It curves sharply downward at the narrow end. The shape of the handle allows it to fit easily in the hand when it is correctly held resting across the third finger and grasped between the thumb and first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand. When the bowl is level the handle points upward at a shallow angle. A spoon is usually made of metal or some other hard-wearing, unbreakable material.Roger H. Garrison, “A Teaspoon” in A Guide to CreativeWritingThe Earliest Coins in ChinaOf the various currencies in ancient China, the round bronze coin with a square hole in the center was by far the most common. The earliest coins inthis form, known as Qin ban liang, were a product of China’s firstcentralized kingdom, the Qin dynasty, established by Qin Shi Huang in 221 B.C. Before the Qin dynasty, Chinese currency had taken many forms. Coins shapedlike various items of clothing, farm implements, or knives were in circulation, but they were costly and hard to produce, and difficult to carry and transport. The new coins were a great improvement – they were relatively simple to cast and could be strung together for ease of transportation. The new coins alsohad a particular philosophical significance to the ancient Chinese, who madethe coins to symbolize their belief that heaven was round and the earth as square, and that heaven sheltered the earth and all things in the universe were united. This concept of unity was important to the Qin emperors, who ruled over a unified China and believed their power great enough to spread to the four corners of the earth.The coins also had great aesthetic appeal. They were thought to represent the relationship between man and nature. Commonly found in nature, the circle represents freedom, comfort, and ease; whereas the square is seen as something man-made, a symbol of law, order, and restraint.A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn!A wet Sunday in a country inn! Whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation．The rain pattered against the casements；the bells tolledfor church with a melancholy sound．I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye；but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement．The windows of my bed．room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys．while those of my sitting．room commanded a full view of the stable yard．I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable yard on a rainy day．The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travelers and stable-boys．In one comer was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck；there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart，among which was a miserable，crest．fallen cock，drenched out of all life and spirit；his drooping tail matted，as it were，into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back；near the cart was a half-dozing cow, chewing her cud，and standing patiently to be rained on，with wreaths of vapor rising from her reeking hide；a wall-eyed horse，tired of the loneliness of the stable，was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves；an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by，uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp：a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in patterns，looking as sulky as the weather itself；everything，in short，was comfortless and forlorn，excepting a crew of hardened ducks，assembled like boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over their liquor．An Open RobberyThe expensive shops in a famous arcade near Piccadilly were just opening．At this time of the morning，the arcade was almost empty．Mr．Taylor, the owner of a jewelry shop，was admiring a new window display．Two of his assistants had been working busily since 8 o’clock and had only just finished．Diamond necklaces and tings had been beautifully arranged on a background of black velvet．After gazing at the display for several minutes．Mr．Taylor went back into his shop．The silence was suddenly broken when a large car, with its headlights on and its horn blaring，roared down the arcade．It came to a stop outside the jeweler’s．One man stayed at the wheel while two others with black stockingsover their faces jumped out and smashed the window of the shop with iron bars．While this was going on，Mr． Taylor was upstairs．He and his assistants began throwing furniture out of the window．Chairs and tables went flying into the arcade．One of the thieves was struck by a heavy statue，but he was too busy helping himself to diamonds to notice any pain．The raid was all over in three minutes，for the men scrambled back into the car and it moved off at a fantastic speed．Just as it was leaving，Mr．Taylor rushed out and ran after it throwing ashtrays and vases，but it was impossible to stop the thieves．They had got away with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds．。
描述性英语作文
描述性英语作文内部编号：（YUUT-TBBY-MMUT-URRUY-UOOY-DBUYI-0128）M y N e w R o o m m a t e It was my first day at the institute．I got into the building where 1 was going to live．My eyes searched carefully from the door of one bedroom to that of another for my name which ought to have been pasted on the door of one of these bedrooms．At last I found it．On stepping into the bedroom I found there was already in it a student who was making his bed．Having exchanged with me a few words of greetings，he resumed his arrangement of bedding and no longer paid any attention to me．“What a stuck-up fellow．”I thought and began to survey the room．It looked quite similar to any other bedroom in the building．Even the furniture in all bedrooms was uniform．It seemed my bedroom had already been thoroughly cleaned by my new roommate．He was thin，short and dark-skinned．His hair looked like a bundle of straw．His dirty clothes and lusterless eyes clearly indicated that he had had a long journey．His clothes were made of cheap cloth．His coat was too short，and the legs of his trousers were too loose．He wore a pair of unfashionable rubber shoes．Thus he did not look like a smart freshman at a11.“A yokel,” I concluded．The second time he spoke，his accent told me that he was from the south．“May I help you get your luggage from the office”I did not decline his help because I really needed it．He was quick in movement． He walked out of the room and was soon far ahead of me in the corridor．“A good guy,” I said to myself．“I will make friends with him．”I hurried and caught up with him．My English TeacherI like most of my teachers in college．They were，for the most part，friendly and competent, willing to help students．I liked them —but I don’t remember them very well，except for Mr. Jones，my freshman English teacher．He was an enthusiastic， sensitive man，who knew his subject and was determined that we would learn it and love it, too．Mr. Jones was a tall，slender man in his mid-forties with gray, thinning hair．Perched precariously on his nose，his glasses gave him a serious look．But they didn’t remain there long，for he was always either taking them off and polishing their two pieces of glass or putting either of the two earpieces in his mouth when he was meditating a response to some question raised by a student．When on his way to our classroom，he always carried two or three books with strips of paper sticking out of them，which were for marking the passages he wanted to read to us．I remember, too， his cardigan sweaters．He must have had a dozen of them．On rainy days he would have a blue raincoat on．But what is most tenacious in my memory is his smile．When he smiled，his wholeface lit up；his eyes sparkled．His smile made you feel good，at ease，and somehow reassured．Though habitually friendly and at ease with everybody, he was a bit prim in classroom，and he could be stem on occasions．He never called us by our first names．He obviously enjoyed his work and loved his students，but he kept his distance．He never deliberately or publicly embarrassed a student by using sarcastic language．Nevertheless he could distinctly reveal his displeasure in his own way．He’d look steadily at an offending student for quite a few freezing seconds．That was usually enough for the little culprit to be cowed．But if itdidn’t work，he’d say something to the student in a lowered tone of voice．He didn’t do this often, though．Mr. Jones had personality, integrity, vitality — a11 of which made him popular；but what I liked most about him was that he was a fine teacher It was true that he cared about his students，but he cared more about teaching them his subject．And that meant homework，lots of it，and pop quizzes now and then to keep them current on the reading．He lectured occasionally to provide background information whenever we moved on to a new literary period．After a brief glance at his notes，he’d begin to move around as he talked to the blackboard to the window, back to the 1ectem．But he preferred discussion，a Socratic dialogue．He’d write several questions on the board for the nextday’s discussion，and he’d expect you to be prepared to discussthem．He directed the discussion, but he didn’t dominate it：for he was a good listener and made sure we all had a chance to respond, whether we wanted to or not．If he was pleased with a response，he’d nod his head and smile．Occasionally he’d read a student’s essay, praising its good points and then winking at the writer as he passed it back．But he was tough-minded，too，as I suggested before．He really nailed you for sloppy work or inattention．When you got an A from him，you really felt good，for he wasn’t an easy grader．We used to complain about his grading standards，usually to no avail, though he would change a grade if he thought he had been unfair．Mr. Jones was a competent teacher．He knew what he was doing in classroom，and he could conduct his class very well．But what was more important was that he made his students fall in love with the course he offered．He led us to take the initiative in delving into it on out own．Mariak AnagianShe was ninety-two years old when I met her, a gentle，diminutive lady in European dress．Her face was deeply lined，and her coarse grey hair had yellowed with the years．She spoke softly in a quivering voice in half English and half American．Her gnarled hands testified to the years of hard work on the farm in her homeland．Yet．in her dark eyes and in her gentle manner there was a childlike simplicity as she toldme her story．I thought“she has the wisdom that comes with years of experience and the gentle purity of a child—that was a wonderful but strange combination of traits．”I knew that l would never forget her．Her name was Mariak Anagian When she was a young woman，herhomeland was invaded by foreign troops．She had been keeping house for her father, brothers， husband，and her two young children．One day she returned from the market and found the mutilated（残缺不全的）bodies of her father and one of her brothers on her doorstep．They were among the many victims of the war．Mariak’s husband was much older than she，and he soon succumbed to the rigorous demands of field work and mental strain，leaving Mariak alone in the world to take care of her two small children．Many of the town’s people helped her, and she was able to produce enough on the small farm to feed her family．Shortly after the turn of the century, her daughter married and went to America．A few years later，Mariak’s daughter sent her some money which enabled herto come to the United States．Thus Mariak came to live in the United States for thirty years．As Mariak told her story, her eyes grew large with fear and her breath quickened with excitement．Then she wept．After a short time，she sat silently with her head bowed．Suddenly, she rose from the chair, lifted her skirt to just above her ankles，and began to dance inshort，jerky steps．She sang almost inaudibly in her native language，but I knew it was a children’s song．Her simple melody and simpledance steps were typically those of an average child．Her eyes shone with youthful gaiety, and her voice was light and happy．Her grandson appeared at this time，spoke to her affectionately, and led her away from the room．My Dormitory BedroomMy dormitory bedroom on the second floor of Bienville Hall is small and cluttered up．Its dark green walls and dirty white ceiling make it look gloomy and thuseven smaller than it is．On entering the bedroom．one would find my bed is right in his way because it takes up half of the room．The two large windows over my bed are obstructed from view by the golden heavy drapes．Against the left wall is a large book case extending into the comer which is behind the head of my bed．The bookcase is crammed with piles of sheets of paper, books，and knickknacks．Wedged in between the bookcase and the wall opposite the bed is a small grey metal desk．Near the desk stands a brown wooden chair which fills up the left end of the room．Stuffed under the desk is a wastepaper basket overflowing with tom pieces of Paper and refuse．The wall above the bookcase and desk is completely taken up with two small posters．On the right side of the room is a narrow closet with clothes，shoes，hats，tennis racquets，and boxes bulging out of its sliding doors．Every time 1 walk out of my bedroom．I think to myself, Now I know what it is like to live in a closet．”SubwaysSubways are long，dark，gloomy, sooty tunnels under the ground．Trains with many cars clatter on steel tracks through these tunnels．The automatic doors open noisily, one at each end and another in the middle of the car．The trains have bright electric lights and long benches for passengers’ comfort．There are many colorful posters on the damp metal walls of the trains．Some advertise toothpaste for the family．Many posters plead for support for charity organizations．A lot of posters urge subway riders to buy a special lime-scented deodorant or a particular lemon-oil haft tonic．A few posters ask readers to buy this soap or that shoe polish．Most of the riders read the posters．A few of them read books or newspapers．Not many riders talk to their fellow travelers as they burrow through the earth from one end of the city to another．A Spring MorningIt was early in a morning in spring．The sun was just scrambling upward from the eastern horizon and shedding vermilion steaks to penetrate the ambient clouds that were drifting across the sky．Soon the campus was bathed in the first rays of the sun. Then the lake，the trees and the bamboos looked as if they were all gilded．The ground was covered with tender grasses and the beaded dewdrops stood on their tips and were ready to reflect the nascent sunshine．Birds flew about in the woods，twittering restlessly．Some boy students who were absorbed in reading leaned against trees with buds peeping out from beneath the gray bark．A couple of girl students were reading from their English textbooks aloud while walking up and down the gravel path around the lake where a sort of stream rose to form swirls of thin mist．It was really a morning of beauty, vigor and hope．A Pleasant SummerWhat can aptly characterize a pleasant summer should consist of such as bright sunshine，refreshing breeze，and comfortable warmth．In a pleasant summer, when the breeze is soothing，when the blue sky is heartening，and when the white clouds are nurturing your reverie，you cannot refrain from imagining that you are overwhelmed with heavenly bliss．The invigorating air and the intoxicating landscape are all what you need to make yourself feel irresistibly fascinated with your own life．Given them all，what else do you need to make your life more worth living None indeed!The beautiful landscape pampers you．The high mountains in the distance，the crystalline brook meandering in your vicinity, the verdure surrounding you，the fragrant flowers nodding to you，the birds circling overhead，the little wild beasts skittering away into wilderness，are all pleasing sights to your mind and the eyes．A walkalong a pond covered with sweet lily—flowers or teeming with various aquatic growths is also a very good pastime．Even though it is rather warm in daytime，most nights in a pleasant summer can be extremely enjoyable with stars twinkling in the sky and the shining moon cascading a profusion of light onto treetops．The soothing breeze caresses your face lovingly．Musical cicadas are singing merrily from the branches of trees．What else do you want of a summer 1ike this! Nothing else indeed!A TeaspoonA teaspoon is a utensil for scooping up and carrying small amounts of something. It has two joined parts: a flat, narrow, tapered handle, by which it is held, and a shadow, oval bowl to dip and carry liquid, food or other materials. The handle is about four inches long. It arches slightly upward at the wide end. It curves sharply downward at the narrow end. The shape of the handle allows it to fit easily in the hand when it is correctly held resting across the third finger and grasped between the thumb and first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand. When the bowl is level the handle points upward at a shallow angle. A spoon is usually made of metal or some other hard-wearing, unbreakable material.Roger H. Garrison, “A Teaspoon” in A Guide to Creative WritingThe Earliest Coins in ChinaOf the various currencies in ancient China, the round bronze coin with a square hole in the center was by far the most common. The earliest coins in this form, known as Qin ban liang, were a product of China’s first centralized kingdom, the Qin dynasty, established by Qin Shi Huang in 221 . Before the Qin dynasty, Chinese currency had taken many forms. Coins shaped like various items of clothing, farm implements, or knives were in circulation, but they were costly and hard to produce, and difficult to carry and transport. The new coins were a great improvement – they were relatively simple to cast and could be strung together for ease of transportation. The new coins also had a particular philosophical significance to the ancient Chinese, who made the coins to symbolize their belief that heaven was round and the earth as square, and that heaven sheltered the earth and all things in the universe were united. This concept of unity was important to the Qin emperors, who ruled over a unified China and believed their power great enough to spread to the four corners of the earth.The coins also had great aesthetic appeal. They were thought to represent the relationship between man and nature. Commonly found in nature, the circle represents freedom, comfort, and ease; whereas the square is seen as something man-made, a symbol of law, order, and restraint.A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn!A wet Sunday in a country inn! Whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation．The rain pattered against the casements；the bells tolledfor church with a melancholy sound．I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye；but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement．The windows of my bed．room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys．while those of my sitting．room commanded a full view of the stable yard．I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable yard on a rainy day．The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travelers and stable-boys．In one comer was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck；there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart，among which was a miserable，crest．fallen cock，drenched out of all life and spirit；his drooping tail matted，as it were，into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back；near the cart was a half-dozing cow, chewing her cud，and standing patiently to be rained on，with wreaths of vapor rising from her reeking hide；a wall-eyed horse，tired of the loneliness of the stable，was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves；an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by，uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp：a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in patterns，looking as sulkyas the weather itself；everything，in short，was comfortless and forlorn，excepting a crew of hardened ducks，assembled like boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over theirliquor．An Open RobberyThe expensive shops in a famous arcade near Piccadilly were just opening．At this time of the morning，the arcade was almost empty．Mr．Taylor, the owner of a jewelry shop，was admiring a new window display．Two of his assistants had been working busily since 8 o’clock and had only just finished．Diamond necklaces and tings had been beautifully arranged on a background of black velvet．After gazing at the display for several minutes．Mr．Taylor went back into his shop．The silence was suddenly broken when a large car, with its headlights on and its horn blaring，roared down the arcade．It came to a stop outside the jeweler’s．One man stayed at the wheel while two others with black stockings over their faces jumped out and smashed the window of the shop with iron bars．While this was going on，Mr． Taylor was upstairs．He and his assistants began throwing furniture out of the window．Chairs and tables went flying into the arcade．One of the thieves was struck by a heavy statue，but he was too busy helping himself to diamonds to notice any pain．The raid was all over in three minutes，for the men scrambled back into the car and it moved off at afantastic speed．Just as it was leaving，Mr．Taylor rushed out and ran after it throwing ashtrays and vases，but it was impossible to stop the thieves．They had got away with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds．。
高中英语作文分类
高中英语作文分类高中英语作文通常可以分为以下几种类型：1. 叙述性作文 (Narrative Writing)- 描述个人经历、故事或事件。
- 例如："Last summer, I went on a trip to the countryside with my family. It was an unforgettable experience."2. 描述性作文 (Descriptive Writing)- 描述人、地点、物体或场景。
- 例如："The library was a sanctuary of knowledge, filled with rows of books that whispered stories of the past and the future."3. 议论文 (Argumentative Writing)- 提出观点，提供证据，反驳反方观点。
- 例如："Online learning has its advantages and disadvantages, but in my opinion, it offers greaterflexibility and accessibility."4. 说明文 (Expository Writing)- 解释概念、过程或事件。
- 例如："Global warming is a phenomenon that has been observed over the past century, resulting from the increase in greenhouse gases."5. 应用文 (Applied Writing)- 包括书信、电子邮件、报告等。
- 例如："Dear Sir/Madam, I am writing to express my interest in the internship position advertised on your company's website."6. 创意写作 (Creative Writing)- 创作故事、诗歌或剧本。
描述性英语作文资料讲解
My New RoommateIt was my first day at the institute．I got into the building where 1 was going to live．My eyes searched carefully from the door of one bedroom to that of another for my name which ought to have been pasted on the door of one of these bedrooms．At last I found it．On stepping into the bedroom I found there was already in it a student who was making his bed．Having exchanged with me a few words of greetings，he resumed his arrangement of bedding and no longer paid any attention to me．“What a stuck-up fellow．”I thought and began to survey the room．It looked quite similar to any other bedroom in the building．Even the furniture in all bedrooms was uniform．It seemed my bedroom had already been thoroughly cleaned by my new roommate．He was thin，short and dark-skinned．His hair looked like a bundle of straw．His dirty clothes and lusterless eyes clearly indicated that he had had a long journey．His clothes were made of cheap cloth．His coat was too short，and the legs of his trousers were too loose．He wore a pair of unfashionable rubber shoes．Thus he did not look like a smart freshman at a11.“A yokel,”I concluded．The second time he spoke，his accent told me that he was from the south．“May I help you get your luggage from the office?”I did not decline his help because I really needed it．He was quick in movement．He walked out of the room and was soon far ahead of me in the corridor．“A good guy,”I said to myself．“I will make friends with him．”I hurried and caught up with him．My English TeacherI like most of my teachers in college．They were，for the most part，friendly and competent, willing to help students．I liked them — but I don’t remember them very well，except for Mr. Jones，my freshman English teacher．He was an enthusiastic，sensitive man，who knew his subject and was determined that we would learn it and love it, too．Mr. Jones was a tall，slender man in his mid-forties with gray, thinning hair．Perched precariously on his nose，his glasses gave him a serious look．But they didn’t remain there long，for he was always either taking them off and polishing their two pieces of glass or putting either of the two earpieces in his mouth when he was meditating a response to some question raised by a student．When on his way to our classroom，he always carried two or three books with strips of paper sticking out of them，which were for marking the passages he wanted to read to us．I remember, too，his cardigan sweaters．He must have had a dozen of them．On rainy days he would have a blue raincoat on．But what is most tenacious in my memory is his smile．When he smiled，his whole face lit up；his eyes sparkled．His smile made you feel good，at ease，and somehow reassured．Though habitually friendly and at ease with everybody, he was a bit prim in classroom，and he could be stem on occasions．He never called us by our first names．He obviously enjoyed his work and loved his students，but he kept his distance．He never deliberately or publicly embarrassed a student by using sarcastic language．Nevertheless he could distinctly reveal his displeasure in his own way．He’d look steadily at an offending student for quite a few freezing seconds．That was usually enough for the little culprit to be cowed．But if it didn’t work，he’d say something to the student in a lowered tone of voice．He didn’t do this often, though．Mr. Jones had personality, integrity, vitality — a11 of which made him popular；but what I liked most about him was that he was a fine teacher It was true that he cared about his students，but he cared more about teaching them his subject．And that meant homework，lots of it，and pop quizzes now and then to keep them current on thereading．He lectured occasionally to provide background information whenever we moved on to a new literary period．After a brief glance at his notes，he’d begin to move around as he talked to the blackboard to the window, back to the 1ectem．But he preferred discussion，a Socratic dialogue．He’d write several questions on the board for the next day’s discussion，and he’d expect you to be prepared to discuss them．He directed the discussion, but he didn’t dominate it：for he was a good listener and made sure we all had a chance to respond, whether we wanted to or not．If he was pleased with a response，he’d nod his head and smile．Occasionally he’d read a student’s essay, praising its good points and then winking at the writer as he passed it back．But he was tough-minded，too，as I suggested before．He really nailed you for sloppy work or inattention．When you got an A from him，you really felt good，for he wasn’t an easy grader．We used to complain about his grading standards，usually to no avail, though he would change a grade if he thought he had been unfair．Mr. Jones was a competent teacher．He knew what he was doing in classroom，and he could conduct his class very well．But what was more important was that he made his students fall in love with the course he offered．He led us to take the initiative in delving into it on out own．Mariak AnagianShe was ninety-two years old when I met her, a gentle，diminutive lady in European dress．Her face was deeply lined，and her coarse grey hair had yellowed with the years．She spoke softly in a quivering voice in half English and half American．Her gnarled hands testified to the years of hard work on the farm in her homeland．Yet．in her dark eyes and in her gentle manner there was a childlike simplicity as she told me her story．I thought“she has the wisdom that comes with years of experience and the gentle purity of a child—that was a wonderful but strange combination of traits．”I knew that l would never forget her．Her name was Mariak Anagian When she was a young woman，her homeland was invaded by foreign troops．She had been keeping house for her father, brothers，husband，and her two young children．One day she returned from the market and found the mutilated（残缺不全的）bodies of her father and one of her brothers on her doorstep．They were among the many victims of the war．Mariak’s husband was much older than she，and he soon succumbed to the rigorous demands of field work and mental strain，leaving Mariak alone in the world to take care of her two small children．Many of the town’s people helped her, and she was able to produce enough on the small farm to feed her family．Shortly after the turn of the century, her daughter married and went to America．A few years later，Mariak’s daughter sent her some money which enabled her to come to the United States．Thus Mariak came to live in the United States for thirty years．As Mariak told her story, her eyes grew large with fear and her breath quickened with excitement．Then she wept．After a short time，she sat silently with her head bowed．Suddenly, she rose from the chair, lifted her skirt to just above her ankles，and began to dance in short，jerky steps．She sang almost inaudibly in her native language，but I knew it was a children’s song．Her simple melody and simple dance steps were typically those of an average child．Her eyes shone with youthful gaiety, and her voice was light and happy．Her grandson appeared at this time，spoke to her affectionately, and led her away from the room．My Dormitory BedroomMy dormitory bedroom on the second floor of Bienville Hall is small and cluttered up．Its dark green walls and dirty white ceiling make it look gloomy and thus even smaller than it is．On entering the bedroom．one would find my bed is right in his way because it takes up half of the room．The two large windows over my bed are obstructed from view by the golden heavy drapes．Against the left wall is a large book case extending into the comer which is behind the head of my bed．The bookcase is crammed with piles of sheets of paper, books，and knickknacks．Wedged in between the bookcase and the wall opposite the bed is a small grey metal desk．Near the desk stands a brown wooden chair which fills up the left end of the room．Stuffed under the desk is a wastepaper basket overflowing with tom pieces of Paper and refuse．The wall above the bookcase and desk is completely taken up with two small posters．On the right side of the room is a narrow closet with clothes，shoes，hats，tennis racquets，and boxes bulging out of its sliding doors．Every time 1 walk out of my bedroom．I think to myself, Now I know what it is like to live in a closet．”SubwaysSubways are long，dark，gloomy, sooty tunnels under the ground．Trains with many cars clatter on steel tracks through these tunnels．The automatic doors open noisily, one at each end and another in the middle of the car．The trains have bright electric lights and long benches for passengers’comfort．There are many colorful posters on the damp metal walls of the trains．Some advertise toothpaste for the family．Many posters plead for support for charity organizations．A lot of posters urge subway riders to buy a special lime-scented deodorant or a particular lemon-oil haft tonic．A few posters ask readers to buy this soap or that shoe polish．Most of the riders read the posters．A few of them read books or newspapers．Not many riders talk to their fellow travelers as they burrow through the earth from one end of the city to another．A Spring MorningIt was early in a morning in spring．The sun was just scrambling upward from the eastern horizon and shedding vermilion steaks to penetrate the ambient clouds that were drifting across the sky．Soon the campus was bathed in the first rays of the sun. Then the lake，the trees and the bamboos looked as if they were all gilded．The ground was covered with tender grasses and the beaded dewdrops stood on their tips and were ready to reflect the nascent sunshine．Birds flew about in the woods，twittering restlessly．Some boy students who were absorbed in reading leaned against trees with buds peeping out from beneath the gray bark．A couple of girl students were reading from their English textbooks aloud while walking up and down the gravel path around the lake where a sort of stream rose to form swirls of thin mist．It was really a morning of beauty, vigor and hope．A Pleasant SummerWhat can aptly characterize a pleasant summer should consist of such as bright sunshine，refreshing breeze，and comfortable warmth．In a pleasant summer, when the breeze is soothing，when the blue sky is heartening，and when the white clouds are nurturing your reverie，you cannot refrain from imagining that you are overwhelmed with heavenly bliss．The invigorating air and the intoxicating landscape are all what you need to make yourself feel irresistibly fascinated with your own life．Given them all，what else do you need to make your life more worth living? None indeed!The beautiful landscape pampers you．The high mountains in the distance，the crystalline brook meandering in your vicinity, the verdure surrounding you，the fragrant flowers nodding to you，the birds circling overhead，the little wild beasts skittering away into wilderness，are all pleasing sights to your mind and the eyes．A walk along a pond covered with sweet lily—flowers or teeming with various aquatic growths is also a very good pastime．Even though it is rather warm in daytime，most nights in a pleasant summer can be extremely enjoyable with stars twinkling in the sky and the shining moon cascading a profusion of light onto treetops．The soothing breeze caresses your face lovingly．Musical cicadas are singing merrily from the branches of trees．What else do you want of a summer 1ike this! Nothing else indeed!A TeaspoonA teaspoon is a utensil for scooping up and carrying small amounts of something. It has two joined parts: a flat, narrow, tapered handle, by which it is held, and a shadow, oval bowl to dip and carry liquid, food or other materials. The handle is about four inches long. It arches slightly upward at the wide end. It curves sharply downward at the narrow end. The shape of the handle allows it to fit easily in the hand when it is correctly held resting across the third finger and grasped between the thumb and first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand. When the bowl is level the handle points upward at a shallow angle. A spoon is usually made of metal or some other hard-wearing, unbreakable material.Roger H. Garrison, “A Teaspoon” in A Guide to Creative WritingThe Earliest Coins in ChinaOf the various currencies in ancient China, the round bronze coin with a square hole in the center was by far the most common. The earliest coins in this form, known as Qin ban liang, were a product of China’s first centralized kingdom, the Qin dynasty, established by Qin Shi Huang in 221 B.C. Before the Qin dynasty, Chinese currency had taken many forms. Coins shaped like various items of clothing, farm implements, or knives were in circulation, but they were costly and hard to produce, and difficult to carry and transport. The new coins were a great improvement – they were relatively simple to cast and could be strung together for ease of transportation. The new coins also had a particular philosophical significance to the ancient Chinese, who made the coins to symbolize their belief that heaven was round and the earth as square, and that heaven sheltered the earth and all things in the universe were united. This concept of unity was important to the Qin emperors, who ruled over a unified China and believed their power great enough to spread to the four corners of the earth.The coins also had great aesthetic appeal. They were thought to represent the relationship between man and nature. Commonly found in nature, the circle represents freedom, comfort, and ease; whereas the square is seen as something man-made, a symbol of law, order, and restraint.A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn!A wet Sunday in a country inn! Whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation．The rain pattered against the casements；the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound．I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye；but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement．The windows of my bed．room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys．while those of my sitting．room commanded a full view of the stable yard．I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable yard on a rainy day．The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travelers and stable-boys．In one comer was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck；there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart，among which was a miserable，crest．fallen cock，drenched out of all life and spirit；his drooping tail matted，as it were，into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back；near the cart was a half-dozing cow, chewing her cud，and standing patiently to be rained on，with wreaths of vapor rising from her reeking hide；a wall-eyed horse，tired of the loneliness of the stable，was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves；an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by，uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp：a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in patterns，looking as sulky as the weather itself；everything，in short，was comfortless and forlorn，excepting a crew of hardened ducks，assembled like boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over their liquor．An Open RobberyThe expensive shops in a famous arcade near Piccadilly were just opening．At this time of the morning，the arcade was almost empty．Mr．Taylor, the owner of a jewelry shop，was admiring a new window display．Two of his assistants had been working busily since 8 o’clock and had only just finished．Diamond necklaces and tings had been beautifully arranged on a background of black velvet．After gazing at the display for several minutes．Mr．Taylor went back into his shop．The silence was suddenly broken when a large car, with its headlights on and its horn blaring，roared down the arcade．It came to a stop outside the jeweler’s．One man stayed at the wheel while two others with black stockings over their faces jumped out and smashed the window of the shop with iron bars．While this was going on，Mr．Taylor was upstairs．He and his assistants began throwing furniture out of the window．Chairs and tables went flying into the arcade．One of the thieves was struck by a heavy statue，but he was too busy helping himself to diamonds to notice any pain．The raid was all over in three minutes，for the men scrambled back into the car and it moved off at a fantastic speed．Just as it was leaving，Mr．Taylor rushed out and ran after it throwing ashtrays and vases，but it was impossible to stop the thieves．They had got away with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds．。
常考英语作文类型
常考英语作文类型1. Narrative Writing (叙事写作)- 描述一个个人经历或故事，包括事件的开始、发展和结局。
- 使用第一人称或第三人称视角。
- 例子："Last summer, I embarked on a solo trip to Japan..."2. Descriptive Writing (描述性写作)- 详细描述一个场景、人物、地点或物品。
- 使用感官细节来让读者产生共鸣。
- 例子："The bustling market was a symphony of colors and sounds..."3. Expository Writing (说明文写作)- 解释一个概念、过程或事件。
- 通常使用第三人称，保持客观和信息性。
- 例子："Global warming is a phenomenon that affects the entire planet..."4. Persuasive Writing (说服性写作)- 试图说服读者接受一个观点或采取行动。
- 使用逻辑论证和情感诉求。
- 例子："Eating organic food not only benefits our health but also the environment..."5. Argumentative Writing (辩论性写作)- 呈现一个论点，并提供支持该论点的证据。
- 反驳对立观点，并加强自己的立场。
- 例子："Although some argue that social media is detrimental, it has undeniable benefits..."6. Reflective Writing (反思性写作)- 分析和思考个人经历、思想或情感。
- 通常结合叙述和分析，展示个人成长或变化。
描述性英语作文
My New RoommateIt was my first day at the institute．I got into the building where 1 was going to live．My eyes searched carefully from the door of one bedroom to that of another for my name which ought to have been pasted on the door of one of these bedrooms．At last I found it．On stepping into the bedroom I found there was already in it a student who was making his bed．Having exchanged with me a few words of greetings，he resumed his arrangement of bedding and no longer paid any attention to me．“What a stuck-up fellow．”I thought and began to survey the room．It looked quite similar to any other bedroom in the building．Even the furniture in all bedrooms was uniform．It seemed my bedroom had already been thoroughly cleaned by my new roommate．He was thin，short and dark-skinned．His hair looked like a bundle of straw．His dirty clothes and lusterless eyes clearly indicated that he had had a long journey．His clothes were made of cheap cloth．His coat was too short，and the legs of his trousers were too loose．He wore a pair of unfashionable rubber shoes．Thus he did not look like a smart freshman at a11.“A yokel,”I concluded．The second time he spoke，his accent told me that he was from the south．“May I help you get your luggage from the office?”I did not decline his help because I really needed it．He was quick in movement．He walked out of the room and was soon far ahead of me in the corridor．“A good guy,”I said to myself．“I will make friends with him．”I hurried and caught up with him．My English TeacherI like most of my teachers in college．They were，for the most part，friendly and competent, willing to help students．I liked them — but I don’t remember them very well，except for Mr. Jones，my freshman English teacher．He was an enthusiastic，sensitive man，who knew his subject and was determined that we would learn it and love it, too．Mr. Jones was a tall，slender man in his mid-forties with gray, thinning hair．Perched precariously on his nose，his glasses gave him a serious look．But they didn’t remain there long，for he was always either taking them off and polishing their two pieces of glass or putting either of the two earpieces in his mouth when he was meditating a response to some question raised by a student．When on his way to our classroom，he always carried two or three books with strips of paper sticking out of them，which were for marking the passages he wanted to read to us．I remember, too，his cardigan sweaters．He must have had a dozen of them．On rainy days he would have a blue raincoat on．But what is most tenacious in my memory is his smile．When he smiled，his whole face lit up；his eyes sparkled．His smile made you feel good，at ease，and somehow reassured．Though habitually friendly and at ease with everybody, he was a bit prim in classroom，and he could be stem on occasions．He never called us by our first names．He obviously enjoyed his work and loved his students，but he kept his distance．He never deliberately or publicly embarrassed a student by using sarcastic language．Nevertheless he could distinctly reveal his displeasure in his own way．He’d look steadily at an offending student for quite a few freezing seconds．That was usually enough for the little culprit to be cowed．But if it didn’t work，he’d say something to the student in a lowered tone of voice．He didn’t do this often, though．Mr. Jones had personality, integrity, vitality — a11 of which made him popular；but what I liked most about him was that he was a fine teacher It was true that he cared about his students，but he cared more about teaching them his subject．And that meant homework，lots of it，and pop quizzes now and then to keep them current on thereading．He lectured occasionally to provide background information whenever we moved on to a new literary period．After a brief glance at his notes，he’d begin to move around as he talked to the blackboard to the window, back to the 1ectem．But he preferred discussion，a Socratic dialogue．He’d write several questions on the board for the next day’s discussion，and he’d expect you to be prepared to discuss them．He directed the discussion, but he didn’t dominate it：for he was a good listener and made sure we all had a chance to respond, whether we wanted to or not．If he was pleased with a response，he’d nod his head and smile．Occasionally he’d read a student’s essay, praising its good points and then winking at the writer as he passed it back．But he was tough-minded，too，as I suggested before．He really nailed you for sloppy work or inattention．When you got an A from him，you really felt good，for he wasn’t an easy grader．We used to complain about his grading standards，usually to no avail, though he would change a grade if he thought he had been unfair．Mr. Jones was a competent teacher．He knew what he was doing in classroom，and he could conduct his class very well．But what was more important was that he made his students fall in love with the course he offered．He led us to take the initiative in delving into it on out own．Mariak AnagianShe was ninety-two years old when I met her, a gentle，diminutive lady in European dress．Her face was deeply lined，and her coarse grey hair had yellowed with the years．She spoke softly in a quivering voice in half English and half American．Her gnarled hands testified to the years of hard work on the farm in her homeland．Yet．in her dark eyes and in her gentle manner there was a childlike simplicity as she told me her story．I thought“she has the wisdom that comes with years of experience and the gentle purity of a child—that was a wonderful but strange combination of traits．”I knew that l would never forget her．Her name was Mariak Anagian When she was a young woman，her homeland was invaded by foreign troops．She had been keeping house for her father, brothers，husband，and her two young children．One day she returned from the market and found the mutilated（残缺不全的）bodies of her father and one of her brothers on her doorstep．They were among the many victims of the war．Mariak’s husband was much older than she，and he soon succumbed to the rigorous demands of field work and mental strain，leaving Mariak alone in the world to take care of her two small children．Many of the town’s people helped her, and she was able to produce enough on the small farm to feed her family．Shortly after the turn of the century, her daughter married and went to America．A few years later，Mariak’s daughter sent her some money which enabled her to come to the United States．Thus Mariak came to live in the United States for thirty years．As Mariak told her story, her eyes grew large with fear and her breath quickened with excitement．Then she wept．After a short time，she sat silently with her head bowed．Suddenly, she rose from the chair, lifted her skirt to just above her ankles，and began to dance in short，jerky steps．She sang almost inaudibly in her native language，but I knew it was a children’s song．Her simple melody and simple dance steps were typically those of an average child．Her eyes shone with youthful gaiety, and her voice was light and happy．Her grandson appeared at this time，spoke to her affectionately, and led her away from the room．My Dormitory BedroomMy dormitory bedroom on the second floor of Bienville Hall is small and cluttered up．Its dark green walls and dirty white ceiling make it look gloomy and thus even smaller than it is．On entering the bedroom．one would find my bed is right in his way because it takes up half of the room．The two large windows over my bed are obstructed from view by the golden heavy drapes．Against the left wall is a large book case extending into the comer which is behind the head of my bed．The bookcase is crammed with piles of sheets of paper, books，and knickknacks．Wedged in between the bookcase and the wall opposite the bed is a small grey metal desk．Near the desk stands a brown wooden chair which fills up the left end of the room．Stuffed under the desk is a wastepaper basket overflowing with tom pieces of Paper and refuse．The wall above the bookcase and desk is completely taken up with two small posters．On the right side of the room is a narrow closet with clothes，shoes，hats，tennis racquets，and boxes bulging out of its sliding doors．Every time 1 walk out of my bedroom．I think to myself, Now I know what it is like to live in a closet．”SubwaysSubways are long，dark，gloomy, sooty tunnels under the ground．Trains with many cars clatter on steel tracks through these tunnels．The automatic doors open noisily, one at each end and another in the middle of the car．The trains have bright electric lights and long benches for passengers’comfort．There are many colorful posters on the damp metal walls of the trains．Some advertise toothpaste for the family．Many posters plead for support for charity organizations．A lot of posters urge subway riders to buy a special lime-scented deodorant or a particular lemon-oil haft tonic．A few posters ask readers to buy this soap or that shoe polish．Most of the riders read the posters．A few of them read books or newspapers．Not many riders talk to their fellow travelers as they burrow through the earth from one end of the city to another．A Spring MorningIt was early in a morning in spring．The sun was just scrambling upward from the eastern horizon and shedding vermilion steaks to penetrate the ambient clouds that were drifting across the sky．Soon the campus was bathed in the first rays of the sun. Then the lake，the trees and the bamboos looked as if they were all gilded．The ground was covered with tender grasses and the beaded dewdrops stood on their tips and were ready to reflect the nascent sunshine．Birds flew about in the woods，twittering restlessly．Some boy students who were absorbed in reading leaned against trees with buds peeping out from beneath the gray bark．A couple of girl students were reading from their English textbooks aloud while walking up and down the gravel path around the lake where a sort of stream rose to form swirls of thin mist．It was really a morning of beauty, vigor and hope．A Pleasant SummerWhat can aptly characterize a pleasant summer should consist of such as bright sunshine，refreshing breeze，and comfortable warmth．In a pleasant summer, when the breeze is soothing，when the blue sky is heartening，and when the white clouds are nurturing your reverie，you cannot refrain from imagining that you are overwhelmed with heavenly bliss．The invigorating air and the intoxicating landscape are all what you need to make yourself feel irresistibly fascinated with your own life．Given them all，what else do you need to make your life more worth living? None indeed!The beautiful landscape pampers you．The high mountains in the distance，the crystalline brook meandering in your vicinity, the verdure surrounding you，the fragrant flowers nodding to you，the birds circling overhead，the little wild beasts skittering away into wilderness，are all pleasing sights to your mind and the eyes．A walk along a pond covered with sweet lily—flowers or teeming with various aquatic growths is also a very good pastime．Even though it is rather warm in daytime，most nights in a pleasant summer can be extremely enjoyable with stars twinkling in the sky and the shining moon cascading a profusion of light onto treetops．The soothing breeze caresses your face lovingly．Musical cicadas are singing merrily from the branches of trees．What else do you want of a summer 1ike this! Nothing else indeed!A TeaspoonA teaspoon is a utensil for scooping up and carrying small amounts of something. It has two joined parts: a flat, narrow, tapered handle, by which it is held, and a shadow, oval bowl to dip and carry liquid, food or other materials. The handle is about four inches long. It arches slightly upward at the wide end. It curves sharply downward at the narrow end. The shape of the handle allows it to fit easily in the hand when it is correctly held resting across the third finger and grasped between the thumb and first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand. When the bowl is level the handle points upward at a shallow angle. A spoon is usually made of metal or some other hard-wearing, unbreakable material.Roger H. Garrison, “A Teaspoon” in A Guide to Creative WritingThe Earliest Coins in ChinaOf the various currencies in ancient China, the round bronze coin with a square hole in the center was by far the most common. The earliest coins in this form, known as Qin ban liang, were a product of China’s first centralized kingdom, the Qin dynasty, established by Qin Shi Huang in 221 B.C. Before the Qin dynasty, Chinese currency had taken many forms. Coins shaped like various items of clothing, farm implements, or knives were in circulation, but they were costly and hard to produce, and difficult to carry and transport. The new coins were a great improvement – they were relatively simple to cast and could be strung together for ease of transportation. The new coins also had a particular philosophical significance to the ancient Chinese, who made the coins to symbolize their belief that heaven was round and the earth as square, and that heaven sheltered the earth and all things in the universe were united. This concept of unity was important to the Qin emperors, who ruled over a unified China and believed their power great enough to spread to the four corners of the earth.The coins also had great aesthetic appeal. They were thought to represent the relationship between man and nature. Commonly found in nature, the circle represents freedom, comfort, and ease; whereas the square is seen as something man-made, a symbol of law, order, and restraint.A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn!A wet Sunday in a country inn! Whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation．The rain pattered against the casements；the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound．I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye；but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement．The windows of my bed．room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys．while those of my sitting．room commanded a full view of the stable yard．I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable yard on a rainy day．The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travelers and stable-boys．In one comer was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck；there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart，among which was a miserable，crest．fallen cock，drenched out of all life and spirit；his drooping tail matted，as it were，into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back；near the cart was a half-dozing cow, chewing her cud，and standing patiently to be rained on，with wreaths of vapor rising from her reeking hide；a wall-eyed horse，tired of the loneliness of the stable，was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves；an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by，uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp：a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in patterns，looking as sulky as the weather itself；everything，in short，was comfortless and forlorn，excepting a crew of hardened ducks，assembled like boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over their liquor．An Open RobberyThe expensive shops in a famous arcade near Piccadilly were just opening．At this time of the morning，the arcade was almost empty．Mr．Taylor, the owner of a jewelry shop，was admiring a new window display．Two of his assistants had been working busily since 8 o’clock and had only just finished．Diamond necklaces and tings had been beautifully arranged on a background of black velvet．After gazing at the display for several minutes．Mr．Taylor went back into his shop．The silence was suddenly broken when a large car, with its headlights on and its horn blaring，roared down the arcade．It came to a stop outside the jeweler’s．One man stayed at the wheel while two others with black stockings over their faces jumped out and smashed the window of the shop with iron bars．While this was going on，Mr．Taylor was upstairs．He and his assistants began throwing furniture out of the window．Chairs and tables went flying into the arcade．One of the thieves was struck by a heavy statue，but he was too busy helping himself to diamonds to notice any pain．The raid was all over in three minutes，for the men scrambled back into the car and it moved off at a fantastic speed．Just as it was leaving，Mr．Taylor rushed out and ran after it throwing ashtrays and vases，but it was impossible to stop the thieves．They had got away with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds．。
描述性文章英文范文(优选4篇)
描述性文章英文范文(优选4篇)描述性文章英文范文第1篇环境污染类英语作文环境污染（environment pollution）是指人类直接或间接地向环境排放超过其自净力量的物质或能量，从而使环境的质量降低，对人类的生存与进展、生态系统和财产造成不利影响的现象。
详细包括：水污染、大气污染、噪声污染、放射性污染等。
人类生产活动对自然环境的污染主要包括两个方面：一是工业生产过程中产生的废水废气废渣和农业上使用的农药、化肥等对水、大气、土壤、食品的污染；二是在自然资源开发和利用中，产生的.对环境的污染。
信任大家对于环保都有肯定的熟悉，也曾读过关于限塑令，节省用水爱护环境等为主题的作文。
我们来看一下这篇范文，试着找出其中的优点与不足。
描述性文章英文范文第2篇明天（星期五）全班同学将去参观科学博物馆（the Science Museum），由你（班长）通知全体同学，如何写中考英语作文（通知）。
（通知的开头和结尾已给出）内容如下：1. 早上8点钟在校门口集合，步行前往。
2. 下星期一交一份有关参观的报告。
3. 参观时要仔细听，认真看并登记好玩的东西，中考英语作文《如何写中考英语作文（通知）》。
4. 不行在博物馆内大声喧哗及拍照。
5. 带笔和笔记本。
要求：①不要逐句翻译。
②字数60～80。
Fellow students，We are going to visit the Science Museum tomorrow. We will meet at the school gate at eight in the morning and we will go there on foot. Take your pens and notebooks with you. We should listen and watch carefully and write down something interesting when you visit the museum. Please dont make any noise in the museum and dont take any pictures. Youll have to hand in a report about the visit next Monday.Thank you.[如何写通知类英语作文]描述性文章英文范文第3篇We should see in a descption of modern society whether we should or not. Fm my point of view, it may lead to unnecessary tuble. On the one hand, there are o reasons for this phenomenon.It is reported that some malicious people use this method to blackmail those who are fendly and ful. On the other hand, due to the increasing presse of modern life and the generally accepted concept of "time is money", people are sk aware and alert to this kind of deception. People often care about themselves than others, let alone strangers.Howr, as we all know, easygoing has always been regarded as a virtue in Chinese culte. We should adhere to and carry forward this fine tradition. Of cose, we should also pay attention to potential dangers to avoid being deceived.中文翻译：我们应当在一幅关于现代社会描述中看到我们是应当关心还是不需要别人关心简略描述从我角度来看，可能会招致不必要麻烦。