无论是在学校还是在社会中，大家对作文都不陌生吧，作文是从内部言语向外部言语的过渡，即从经过压缩的简要的、自己能明白的语言，向开展的、具有规范语法结构的、能为他人所理解的外部语言形式的转化。那么你有了解过作文吗？这次为您整理了英语美文长篇优秀3篇，如果对您有一些参考与帮助，请分享给最好的朋友。
I am in the family of the growth composition 600 words—— junior high school composition _ inspirational composition.
Flowers, growing in the soil; Fish grow in water. I thrive in kinship.
Hard love
"These English words must be remembered today, or else not!" My father was ordering me again, and he always did, in the tone of command, to do something. My father was strict with me because he wanted me to be a serious man. I understand him, but I sometimes grumble. At that moment, he would stare me hard, and the harsh eyes always shook me again and again, and I had to continue my study.
My father's strict requirements made my academic performance advance by leaps and bounds. Every time I get good grades, I always think of my father's sternness, the strict family ties.
A man may usually be known by the books he reads as well as by the company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or of men.
A good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same today that it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and cheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of adversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in age.
Men often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they have for a book just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, ‘Love me, love my dog.” But there is more wisdom in this:” Love me, love my book.” The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, and sympathize with each other through their favorite author. They live in him together, and he in them.
A good book is often the best urn of a life enshrining the best that life could think out; for the world of a man’s life is, for the most part, but the world of his thoughts. Thus the best books are treasuries of good words, the golden thoughts, which, remembered and cherished, become our constant companions and comforters.
Books possess an essence of immortality. They are by far the most lasting products of human effort. Temples and statues decay, but books survive. Time is of no account with great thoughts, which are as fresh today as when they first passed through their author’s minds, ages ago. What was then said and thought still speaks to us as vividly as ever from the printed page. The only effect of time have been to sift out the bad products; for nothing in literature can long survive e but what is really good.
Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see the as if they were really alive; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.
The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which on still listens.
I was six years old, my sister, Sally Kay, was a submissive three-year-old girl. For some reasons, I thought we needed to earn some money. I decided we should "hire out" as maids. We
visited the neighbors, offering to clean houses for them for a quater cents. Reasonable as our offer was, there were no takers. But one neighbor telephoned my mother to let her know what Mary Alice and Sally Kay were doing.
Mother had just hung up the phone when we came first into the back door into the kitchen of our apartement. "Girls," mother asked, "why were you two going around the neighborhood telling people you would clean their houses?" Mother wasn't angry with us. In fact, we learned afterwards she was amused that we had came up with such an idea.
But, for some reason, we both denied having done any such thing. Shocked and terribly hurt that her dear little girls could be such "boldfaced liars" . Mother then told us that Mrs. Jones had just called and told her we had been to her house and said we would clean it for a quater cents .
Faced with the truth, we admitted what we had done. Mother said we have fibed, we have not told the truth. She was sure that we knew better. She tried to explain why a fib hurt, but she didn't feel that we really understood.
Years later, she told us that the lesson she came up with for trying to teach us to be truthful would probably have been found upon by child psychologists. The idea came to her in a flash, and a tender-hearted mother told us it was the most difficult lesson she ever taught us. It was a lesson we never forgot. After admonishing us, mother cheerfully begain preparing for lunch. As we monching on sandwhiches, she asked:" Would you two like to go to see the movies this afternoon?"
"Wow, would we ever?" We wondered what movie would be playing. Mother said:"The Matinee".
"Oh, fatastic! We would be going to see The Matinee, would we lucky?" We got bathed and all dressed up. It was like getting ready for a birthday party. We hurried outside the apartment, not wanting to miss the bus that would take us downtown. On the landing, Mom stunned us by saying, "Girls, we are not going to the movies today." We didn't hear her right.
"What?" we objected. "What do you mean? Aren't we going to The Matinee? Mommy, you said that we are going to the Matinee. " Mother stooped and gathered us in her arms. I couldn't understand why there were tears in her eyes. We still had the time to get the bus, but hugging us, she gently explained this is a fib felt like. "It is important that what we say is true ," Mom said. "I fibbed to you just now and it felt awful to me. I don't ever want to fib again and I'm sure you don't want to fib again either. People must be able to believe each others. Do you understand? "
We assured her that we understood. We would never forget. And since we had learned a lesson, why not go to the movie to see The Matinee. There were still time. Not today. Mother told us. We would go another time. That is how over fifty years ago, my sister and I learned to be truthful. We have never forgotten how much a fib can be hurt.