550字英語美文摘抄精選
書面表達是初中學英語教學的重點,也是一個難點。如何使學生的書面表達化難爲易?可以從英語中的經典美文入手。本站小編整理了550字英語美文，歡迎閱讀!
無私的真愛是這樣子的
My wife called, 'How long will you be with that newspaper? Will you come here and make your darling daughter eat her food?
I tossed the paper away and rushed to the scene. My only daughter, Sindu, looked frightened; tears were welling up in her eyes. In front of her was a bowl filled to its brim with curd rice. Sindu is a nice child, quite intelligent for her age.
I cleared my throat and picked up the bowl. 'Sindu, darling, why don't you take a few mouthful of this curd rice? Just for Dad's sake, dear'.
Sindu softened a bit and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. 'Ok, Dad. I will eat - not just a few mouthfuls, but the whole lot of this. But, you should...' Sindu hesitated. 'Dad, if I eat this entire curd Rice, will you give me whatever I ask for?'
'Promise'. I covered the pink soft hand extended by my daughter with mine, and clinched the deal. Now I became a bit anxious. 'Sindu, dear, you shouldn't insist on getting a computer or any such expensive items. Dad does not have that kind of money right now. Ok?'
'No, Dad. I do not want anything expensive'. Slowly and painfully, she finished eating the whole quantity. I was silently angry with my wife and my mother for forcing my child to eat something that she detested. After the ordeal was through, Sindu came to me with her eyes wide with expectation. All our attention was on her. 'Dad, I want to have my head shaved off, this Sunday!' was her demand.
'Atrocious!' shouted my wife, 'A girl child having her head shaved off? Impossible!'
'Never in our family!' My mother rasped. 'She has been watching too much of television. Our culture is getting totally spoiled with these TV programs!'
'Sindu, darling, why don't you ask for something else? We will be sad seeing you with a clean-shaven head.'
'Please, Sindu, why don't you try to understand our feelings?' I tried to plead with her.
'Dad, you saw how difficult it was for me to eat that Curd Rice'. Sindu was in tears. 'And you promised to grant me whatever I ask for. Now, you are going back on your words. Was it not you who told me the story of King Harishchandra, and its moral that we should honor our promises no matter what?'
It was time for me to call the shots. 'Our promise must be kept.'
'Are you out of your mind?' chorused my mother and wife.
'No. If we go back on our promises, she will never learn to honour her own. Sindu, your wish will be fulfilled.'
With her head clean-shaven, Sindu had a round-face, and her eyes looked big and beautiful.
On Monday morning, I dropped her at her school. It was a sight to watch my hairless Sindu walking towards her classroom. She turned around and waved. I waved back with a smile. Just then, a boy alighted from a car, and shouted, 'Sinduja, please wait for me!' What struck me was the hairless head of that boy. 'May be, that is the in-stuff', I thought.
'Sir, your daughter Sinduja is great indeed!' Without introducing herself, a lady got out of the car, and continued, 'that boy who is walking along with your daughter is my son Harish. He is suffering from... leukemia'. She paused to muffle her sobs. 'Harish could not attend the school for the whole of the last month. He lost all his hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy. He refused to come back to school fearing the unintentional but cruel teasing of the schoolmates. Sinduja visited him last week, and promised him that she will take care of the teasing issue. But, I never imagined she would sacrifice her lovely hair for the sake of my son!
Sir, you and your wife are blessed to have such a noble soul as your daughter.'
I stood transfixed and then, I wept. 'My little Angel, you are teaching me how selfless real love is!'
The happiest people on this planet are not those who live on their own terms but are those who change their terms for the ones whom they love !!
550字英語美文篇二生命那些匆匆的過客
When he told me he was leaving I felt like a vase which has just smashed. There were pieces of me all over the tidy, tan tiles. He kept talking, telling me why he was leaving, explaining it was for the best, I could do better, it was his fault and not mine. I had heard it before many times and yet somehow was still not immune; perhaps one did not become immune to such left and I tried to get on with my life. I filled the kettle and put it on to boil, I took out my old red mug and filled it with coffee watching as each coffee granule slipped in to the bone china. That was what my life had been like, endless omissions of coffee granules, somehow never managing to make that cup of coffee. Somehow when the kettle piped its finishing warning I pretended not to hear it. That's what Mike's leaving had been like, sudden and with an awful finality. I would rather just wallow in uncertainty than have things finished. I laughed at myself. Imagine getting all philosophical and sentimental about a mug of coffee. I must be getting old.
And yet it was a young woman who stared back at me from the mirror. A young woman full of promise and hope, a young woman with bright eyes and full lips just waiting to take on the world. I never loved Mike anyway. Besides there are more important things. More important than love, I insist to myself firmly. The lid goes back on the coffee just like closure on the whole Mike experience.
He doesn't haunt my dreams as I feared that night. Instead I am flying far across fields and woods, looking down on those below me. Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is only when I wake up that I realize I was shot by a hunter, brought down by the burden of not the bullet but the soul of the man who shot it. I realize later, with some degree of understanding, that Mike was the hunter holding me down and I am the bird that longs to fly.
The next night my dream is similar to the previous nights, but without the hunter. I fly free until I meet another bird who flies with me in perfect harmony. I realize with some relief that there is a bird out there for me, there is another person, not necessarily a lover perhaps just a friend, but there is someone out there who is my soul mate. I think about being a broken vase again and realize that I have glued myself back together, what Mike has is merely a little part of my time in earth, a little understanding of my physical being. He has only, a little piece of me.
550字英語美文篇三生活的藝術
The art of living is to know when to hold fast and when to let life is a paradox: it enjoinsus to cling to its many gifts even while it ordains their eventual relinquishment. The rabbis ofold put it thisway: “A man comes to this world with his fist clenched, but when he dies, his handis open.”Surely we ought to hold fast to life, for it is wondrous, and full of a beauty that breaksthrough every pore of God’s own earth. We know that this is so, but all too often werecognize this truth only in our backward glance when we remember what was and thensuddenly realize that it is no remember a beauty that faded, a love that waned. Butwe remember with far greater pain that we did not see that beauty when it flowered,that wefailed to respond with love when it was tendered.
A recent experience re-taught me this truth. I was hospitalized following a severe heart attackand had been in intensive care for several days. It was not a pleasant morning, I hadto have some additional tests. The required machines were located in a building at theopposite end of the hospital, so I had to be wheeled across the courtyard on a weemerged from our unit, the sunlight hit ’s all there was to my experience. Just the lightof the sun. And yet how beautiful it was—how warming, how sparking, how brilliant! I lookedto see whether anyone else relished the sun’s golden glow, but everyone was hurrying to andfro，most with eyes fixed on the ground. Then I remembered how often I, too, had beenindifferent to the grandeur of each day, too preoccupied with petty and sometimes evenmean concerns to respond from that experience is really as commonplace as was theexperience itself:life’s gifts are precious，but we are too heedless of them.
Here then is the first pole of life’s paradoxical demands on us: never too busy for the wonderand the awe of life. Be reverent before each dawning day. Embrace each hour. Seize eachgolden fast to life, but not so fast that you cannot let go. This is the second sideof life’s coin, the opposite pole ofits paradox: We must accept our losses, and learn how to is not an easy lesson to learn, especially when we are young and think that the world isours to command, that whatever we desire with the fullforce of our passionate being can，naywill be ours. But then life moves along to confront with realities,and slowly but surely this truthdawns upon every stage of life we sustain losses，and grow in the process.
We begin our independent lives only when we emerge from the womb and lose its protectiveshelter. We entera progression of schools, then we leave our mothers and fathers and ourchildhood homes. We get married and have children and then have to let them go. Weconfront the death of our parents and our spouses. We face the gradual or not so gradualwaning of our strength. And ultimately, as the parable of the open and closed hand suggests,we must confront the inevitability of our own demise， losing ourselves as it were, allthat wewere or dreamed to be.
生活的藝術是要懂得如何取捨。因爲生活本身自相矛盾：它一面告誡我們珍惜它所賜予的諸多恩惠，一面又註定最終將其全部收回。古時猶太教的拉比對此這樣詮釋：“一個人初降人世時手緊握成拳，撒手人寰時卻手掌張開。”我們當然應該牢牢抓住生活，因爲它奇妙無比、美不勝收，滲透了上帝的每一寸土地。我們明白這一點，但往往是在憶及往事、驀然回首卻發現好景不再時纔有所感觸。我們記得凋零的美，消褪的愛。但我們更痛楚地憶起，在美麗綻放時沒有欣賞那份美麗，在情意綿綿時沒有迴應那份愛意。
最近的經歷讓我重新認識到這個真理。在嚴重心臟病發作後，我被送進醫院，在重症室住了好幾天。那可不是令人愉快的地方。一天早晨，我不得不再做些其它檢查。所需的器械在醫院對面盡頭的一幢樓裏，因此我必須被推着從院子經過。檢查完出來時，陽光照在我身上。那是我當時感受到的一切。和煦的陽光，多麼美麗，多麼溫暖，多麼耀眼，多麼燦爛!環顧四周，想看其他人是否也在欣賞這金燦燦的陽光，但來來去去的每個人都行色匆匆，眼睛大都盯着地面。這時，我憶起我也經常因被瑣碎、有時甚至毫無意義的事佔據頭腦而每天對這樣壯觀的景色熟視無睹。就在那一刻，我突然意識到生活的饋贈是多麼珍貴，而我們卻忽視了它們。
這就是生活自相矛盾要求我們的第一極：不要因生活過於忙碌而忽略了它的奇妙和莊嚴。在每個黎明到來之前心懷敬意。擁抱每一小時。抓住珍貴的每分鐘。抓住生活，但不要抓得太緊，以致於無法放棄。這是生活硬幣的另一面，也是其矛盾的另一極：我們必須接受失去，並且學會放棄。要學會這一課並非易事，尤其當我們年輕氣盛時，自認爲是世界的主宰，認爲用充滿激情的軀體全力追求的東西能夠，而且最終將會是我們的。但光陰荏苒，面對現實，我們才漸漸明白並非如此。在人生的每個階段我們都會蒙受損失，並在此過程中成長。
我們只有脫離母體、失去庇護所時纔開始獨立生活。我們進入各級學校，然後離開父母。我們結婚生子，然後再放飛子女。我們面對父母和配偶的離世。我們逐漸或很快變得衰弱。最終，如同張開和握緊的手的寓言，我們必須面對不可避免的死亡，失去原來的自 我，失去我們原有的或夢想的一切。
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