(優(yōu))學(xué)英語作文

　　在我們平凡的日常里，許多人都有過寫作文的經(jīng)歷，對作文都不陌生吧，作文是由文字組成，經(jīng)過人的思想考慮，通過語言組織來表達一個主題意義的文體。那么，怎么去寫作文呢？以下是小編整理的學(xué)英語作文3篇，僅供參考，大家一起來看看吧。

學(xué)英語作文 篇1

　　Hello, I’m Pang Bo Yu. I have a very happy family.

　　My mother is a worker. How old is she? Guess! She’s thirty-five, she like zebras. On Saturdays and Sundays, she likes swimming. She doesn’t work on Saturdays and Sundays.My grandfather and grandmother likes running on Saturdays and walking on Sundays. They like ducks, but I don’t. I like horses very much. In the evening, we watch TV. Some times I listen to music. But my mother, grandfather and grandmother doesn’t, they like reading.

　　I love my happy family very much. Do you like my family?

　　你好，我是龐博宇。我有一個非�？鞓返募彝�。

　　我的媽媽是一個工人。她多少歲了?你猜。她三十五歲了。她喜歡斑馬，在星期六和星期天，她喜歡去游泳。她在周六和周日不工作。我的祖父和祖母喜歡在周六跑步，在周日散步，他們喜歡鴨子，但我不喜歡。我很喜歡馬。我們在晚上看電視。有時候我聽音樂。但是我媽媽、祖父和祖母不喜歡，他們喜歡閱讀。

　　我喜愛我的'家，你呢?

學(xué)英語作文 篇2

　　During the summer vacation, my aunt in the country with the Qiandao Lake for a period of time. Every night, I and aunt one family sitting in front of the new bridge. I found that the moon is very beautiful very beautiful. The moon seem like very ordinary, but it can not. The light is soft, not too bright, no light reflection. Although it is not like the sun to shine on the earth, but bright and clear. The moon looks are always different, sometimes round as a plate, sometimes sad, sometimes as small as small as ... ... Beautiful beautiful. But it seems to always have a touch of sadness, but reduced its beauty. But no matter how the moon change, there is a kind of beauty that can not say, I want it.

學(xué)英語作文 篇3

　　i am only a philosopher, and there is only one thing that a philosopher can be relied on to do. you know that the function of statistics has been ingeniously described as being the refutation of other statistics. well, a philosopher can always contradict other philosophers. in ancient times philosophers defined man as the rational animal; and philosophers since then have always found much more to say about the rational than about the animal part of the definition. but looked at candidly, reason bears about the same proportion to the rest of human nature that we in this hall bear to the rest of america, europe, asia, africa, and polynesia. reason is one of the very feeblest of natures forces, if you take it at any one spot and moment. it is only in the very long run that its effects become perceptible. reason assumes to settle things by weighing them against one another without prejudice, partiality, or ecitement; but what affairs in the concrete are settled by is and always will be just prejudices, partialities, cupidities, and ecitements. appealing to reason as we do, we are in a sort of a forlorn hope situation, like a small sand-bank in the midst of a hungry sea ready to wash it out of eistence. but sand-banks grow when the conditions favor; and weak as reason is, it has the unique advantage over its antagonists that its activity never lets up and that it presses always in one direction, while mens prejudices vary, their passions ebb and flow, and their ecitements are intermittent. our sand-bank, i absolutely believe, is bound to grow, -- bit by bit it will get dyked and breakwatered. but sitting as we do in this warm room, with music and lights and the flowing bowl and smiling faces, it is easy to get too sanguine about our task, and since i am called to speak, i feel as if it might not be out of place to say a word about the strength of our enemy.

　　our permanent enemy is the noted bellicosity of human nature. man, biologically considered, and whatever else he may be in the bargain, is simply the most formidable of all beasts of prey, and, indeed, the only one that preys systematically on its own species. we are once for all adapted to the military status. a millennium of peace would not breed the fighting disposition out of our bone and marrow, and a function so ingrained and vital will never consent to die without resistance, and will always find impassioned apologists and idealizers.

　　not only are men born to be soldiers, but non-combatants by trade and nature, historians in their studies, and clergymen in their pulpits, have been wars idealizers. they have talked of war as of gods court of justice. and, indeed, if we think how many things beside the frontiers of states the wars of history have decided, we must feel some respectful awe, in spite of all the horrors. our actual civilization, good and bad alike, has had past war for its determining condition. great-mindedness among the tribes of men has always meant the will to prevail, and all the more so if prevailing included slaughtering and being slaughtered. rome, paris, england, brandenburg, piedmont, -- soon, let us hope, japan, -- along with their arms have made their traits of character and habits of thought prevail among their conquered neighbors. the blessings we actually enjoy, such as they are, have grown up in the shadow of the wars of antiquity. the various ideals were backed by fighting wills, and where neither would give way, the god of battles had to be the arbiter. a shallow view, this, truly; for who can say what might have prevailed if man had ever been a reasoning and not a fighting animal? like dead men, dead causes tell no tales, and the ideals that went under in the past, along with all the tribes that represented them, find to-day no recorder, no eplainer, no defender.

　　but apart from theoretic defenders, and apart from every soldierly individual straining at the leash, and clamoring for opportunity, war has an omnipotent support in the form of our imagination. man lives by habits, indeed, but what he lives for is thrills and ecitements. the only relief from habits tediousness is periodical ecitement. from time immemorial wars have been, especially for non-combatants, the supremely thrilling ecitement. heavy and dragging at its end, at its outset every war means an eplosion of imaginative energy. the dams of routine burst, and boundless prospects open. the remotest spectators share the fascination. with that awful struggle now in progress on the confines of the world, there is not a man in this room, i suppose, who doesnt buy both an evening and a morning paper, and first of all pounce on the war column.

　　a deadly listlessness would come over most mens imagination of the future if they could seriously be brought to believe that never again in saecula saeculorum would a war trouble human history. in such a stagnant summer afternoon of a world, where would be the zest or interest ?

　　this is the constitution of human nature which we have to work against. the plain truth is that people want war. they want it anyhow; for itself; and apart from each and every possible consequence. it is the final bouquet of lifes fireworks. the born soldiers want it hot and actual. the non-combatants want it in the background, and always as an open possibility, to feed imagination on and keep ecitement going. its clerical and historical defenders fool themselves when they talk as they do about it. what moves them is not the blessings it has won for us, but a vague religious ealtation. war, they feel, is human nature at its uttermost. we are here to do our uttermost. it is a sacrament. society would rot, they think, without the mystical blood-payment.

　　we do ill, i fancy, to talk much of universal peace or of a general disarmament. we must go in for preventive medicine not for radical cure. we must cheat our foe, politically circumvent his action, not try to change his nature. in one respect war is like love, though in no other. both leave us intervals of rest; and in the intervals life goes on perfectly well without them, though the imagination still dallies with their possibility. equally insane when once aroused and under headway, whether they shall be aroused or not depends on accidental circumstances. how are old maids and old bachelors made? not by deliberate vows of celibacy, but by sliding on from year to year with no sufficient matrimonial provocation. so of the nations with their wars. let the general possibility of war be left open, in heavens name, for the imagination to dally with. let the soldiers dream of killing, as the old maids dream of marrying. but organize in every conceivable way the practical machinery for making each successive chance of war abortive. put peace-men in power; educate the editors and statesmen to responsibility; -- how beautifully did their trained responsibility in england make the venezuela incident abortive! seize every pretet, however small, for arbitration methods, and multiply the precedents; foster rival ecitements and invent new outlets for heroic energy; and from one generation to another, the chances are that irritations will grow less acute and states of strain less dangerous among the nations. armies and navies will continue, of course, and will fire the minds of populations with their potentialities of greatness. but their officers will find that somehow or other, with no deliberate intention on any ones part, each successive incident has managed to evaporate and to lead nowhere, and that the thought of what might have been remains their only consolation.

　　the last weak runnings of the war spirit will be punitive epeditions. a country that turns its arms only against uncivilized foes is, i think, wrongly taunted as degenerate. of course it has ceased to be heroic in the old grand style. but i verily believe that this is because it now sees something better. it has a conscience. it knows that between civilized countries a war is a crime against civilization. it will still perpetrate peccadillos, to be sure. but it is afraid, afraid in the good sense of the word, to engage in absolute crimes against civilization.

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