優美英語文章三篇

             今天我們一起來看看幾篇優美的英語文章吧，下面是小編帶來的，歡迎閱讀！

        優美英語文章一

　　"We are reading the first verse of the first chapter of a book whose pages are infinite..."

　　I do not know who wrote those words, but I have always liked them as a reminder that the future can be anything we want to make it. We can take the mysterious, hazy future and carve out of it anything that we can imagine, just as a sculptor carves a statue from a shapeless stone.

　　We are all in the position of the farmer. If we plant a good seed, we reap a good harvest. If our seed is poor and full of weeds, we reap a useless crop. If we plant nothing at all, we harvest nothing at all.

　　I want the future to be better than the past. I don’t want it contaminated by the mistakes and errors with which history is filled. We should all be concerned about the future because that is where we will spend the remainder of our lives.

　　The past is gone and static. Nothing we can do will change it. The future is before us and dynamic. Everything we do will affect it. Each day brings with it new frontiers, in our homes and in our business, if we only recognize them. We are just at the beginning of the progress in every field of human endeavor

　　優美英語文章二

　　Dear God，

　　Now that I am no longer young， I have friends whose mothers have passed away. I have heard these sons and daughters say they never fully appreciated their mothers until it was too late to tell them.　　I am blessed with the dear mother who is still alive. I appreciate her more each day. My mother does not change， but I do. As I grow older and wiser， I realize what an extraordinary person she is. How sad that I am unable to speak these words in her presence， but they flow easily from my pen.　　How does a daughter begin to thank her mother for life itself? For the love， patience and just plain hard work that go into raising a child? For running after a toddler， for understanding a moody teenager， for tolerating a college student who knows everything? For waiting for the day when a daughter realizes her mother really is?　　How does a grown woman thank for a mother for continuing to be a mother? For being ready with advice***when asked *** or remaining silent when it is most appreciated? For not saying：”I told you so”， when she could have uttered these words dozens of times? For being essentially herself—loving， thoughtful， patient， and forgiving?　　I don’t know how， dear God， except to bless her as richly as she deserves and to help me live up to the example she has set. I pray that I will look as good in the eyes of my children as my mother looks in mine.

　　優美英語文章三

　　Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance. I have duly forgotten the name of an old lady who was a customer on my paper route when I was a twelve-year-old boy in Marinette， Wisconsin back in 1954. Yet it seems like just yesterday that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I can only hope to pass on to someone else someday.　　On a mindless Saturday afternoon， a friend and I were throwing rocks onto the roof of the old lady’s house from a secluded spot in her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the rocks changed to missiles as they rolled to the roof’s edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky.　　I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and sent it for a ride. The stone was too smooth， however， so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight for a small window on the old lady’s back porch. At the sound of fractured glass， we took off from the old lady’s yard faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.　　I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken porch window. However， a few days later， when I was sure that I hadn’t been discovered， I started to feel guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper， but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.　　I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money， and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window. I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.　　I waited until it was dark， snuck up to the old lady’s house， and put the envelope of retribution through the letter slot in her door. My soul felt redeemed and I couldn’t wait for the freedom of， once again， looking straight into the old lady’s eyes.　　The next day， I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper and said， “Here， I have something for you.” It was a bag of cookies. I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.　　After several cookies， I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag. When I opened the envelope， I was stunned. Inside was the seven dollars and a short note that said， “I’m proud of you.”