500字英语美文摘抄精选
500字英语美文摘抄精选
美文,不禁浮现出一个美丽的情境,赋予优美的语境和丰富的情感;美文,不禁联想到一种美幻的意境,充满情感的体验和丰富的表达。学习啦小编整理了500字英语美文，欢迎阅读!
500字英语美文篇一
我喜欢这种淡淡的感觉
I like the subtle fresh green budding from the branches of the tree--the herald of spring, ushering in the dawn...
我喜欢这种淡淡的感觉 我喜欢看树枝上那淡淡的嫩绿,它是春天的使者,它是一天清晨的开始……
I like the subtle flow of cloud that makes the sky seem even more vast, azure and immense...
我喜欢天空中那淡淡的云，它将天空衬的更高更蓝更宽……
I like the subtle wind. In spring, it steals a kiss on my cheek; in autumn, it caresses my face; in summer, it brings in cool sweet smell; in winter, it carries a crisp chilliness...
我喜欢淡淡的风。春风轻吻脸颊，秋风抚面温柔，夏天的风送来凉爽，冬天的风带来清凉……
I like the subtle taste of tea that last long after a sip. The subtle bitter is what it is meant to be...
我喜欢喝淡淡的茶,淡淡之中才品出它余味的清香,淡淡的苦才是它原来的味道……
I like the subtle friendship that does not hold people together. In stead, an occasional greeting spreads our longings far beyond...
我喜欢追求淡淡的友谊。彼此之间不需要天天在一起，偶尔一句：你好吗?思念就像发芽一样蔓延开来……
I like the subtle longing for a friend, when I sink deeply in a couch, mind wandering in memories of the past...
我喜欢淡淡地思念一个人,静静地将自己包围在沙发之中，任思绪在回忆里飘荡……
Love should also be subtle, without enslaving the ones fallen into her arms. Not a bit less nor a bit more...
爱也要淡淡的。爱，不要成为囚，少是愁多也是忧……
Subtle friendship is true; subtle greetings are enough; subtle love is tender; subtle longing is deep; subtle wishes come from the bottom of your heart...
淡淡的一点友谊很真，淡淡的一点问候很醇，淡淡的一点依恋很清，淡淡的一点孤独很美，淡淡的一点思念很深，淡淡的一点祝福最真……
500字英语美文篇二
In my dual profession as an educator and health care provider, I have worked with numerous children infected with the virus that causes AIDS. The relationships that I have had with these special kids have been gifts in my life. They have taught me so many things, but I have especially learned that great courage can be found in the smallest of packages. Let me tell you about Tyler.
Tyler was born infected with HIV: his mother was also infected. From the very beginning of his life, he was dependent on medications to enable him to survive. When he was five, he had a tube surgically inserted in a vein in his chest. This tube was connected to a pump, which he carried in a small backpack on his back. Medications were hooked up to this pump and were continuously supplied through this tube to his bloodstream. At times, he also needed supplemented oxygen to support his breathing.
Tyler wasn't willing to give up one single moment of his childhood to this deadly disease. It was not unusual to find him playing and racing around his backyard, wearing his medicine-laden backpack and dragging his tank of oxygen behind him in his little wagon. All of us who knew Tyler marveled at his pure joy in being alive and the energy it gave him. Tyler's mom often teased him by telling him that he moved so fast she needed to dress him in red. That way, when she peered through the window to check on him playing in the yard, she could quickly spot him.
This dreaded disease eventually wore down even the likes of a little dynamo like Tyler. He grew quite ill and, unfortunately, so did his HIV-infected mother. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to survive, Tyler's mom talked to him about death. She comforted him by telling Tyler that she was dying too, and that she would be with him soon in heaven.
A few days before his death, Tyler beckoned me over to his hospital bed and whispered, "I might die soon. I'm not scared. When I die, please dress me in red. Mom promised she's coming to heaven, too. I'll be playing when she gets there, and I want to make sure she can find me."
500字英语美文篇三
We lived on the banks of the Tennessee River, and we owned the summers when we were girls. We ran wild through humid summer days that never ended but only melted one into the other. We floated down rivers of weekdays with no school, no rules , no parents, and no constructs other than our fantasies. We were good girls, my sister and I. We had nothing to rebel against. This was just life as we knew it, and we knew the summers to be long and to be ours.
The road that ran past our house was a one-lane rural route. Every morning, after our parents had gone to work, I'd wait for the mail lady to pull up to our box. Some days I would put enough change for a few stamps into a mason jar lid and leave it in the mailbox. I hated bothering mail lady with this transaction, which made her job take longer. But I liked that she knew that someone in our house sent letters into the outside world.
I liked walking to the mailbox in my bare feet and leaving footprints on the dewy grass. I imagined that feeling the wetness on the bottom of my feet made me a poet. I had never read poetry, outside of some Emily Dickinson. But I imagined that people who knew of such things would walk to their mailboxes through the morning dew in their bare feet.
We planned our weddings with the help of Barbie dolls and the tiny purple wild flowers growing in our side yard. We became scientists and tested concoctions of milk, orange juice, and mouthwash. We ate handfuls of bittersweet chocolate chips and licked peanut butter off spoons. When we ran out of sweets to eat, we snitched sugary Flintstones vitamins out of the medicine cabinet. We became masters of the Kraft macaroni and cheese lunch, and we dutifully called our mother at work three times a day to give her updates on our adventures. But don't call too often or speak too loudly or whine too much, we told ourselves, or else they'll get annoyed and she'll get fired and the summers will end.
We shaped our days the way we chose, far from the prying eyes of adults. We found our dad's Playboys and charged the neighborhood boys money to look at them. We made crank calls around the county, telling people they had won a new car. "What kind?" they'd ask. "Red," we'd always say. We put on our mom's old prom dresses, complete with gloves and hats, and sang backup to the C.W. McCall song convoy, " which we'd found on our dad's turntable.
We went on hikes into the woods behind our house, crawling under barbed wire fences and through tangled undergrowth. Heat and humidity found their way throught he leaves to our flushed faces. We waded in streams that we were always surprised to come across. We walked past cars and auto parts that had been abandoned in the woods, far from any road. We'd reach the tree line and come out unexpectedly into a cow pasture. We''d perch on the gate or stretch out on the large flat limes tone outcrop that marked the end of the Woods Behind Our House.
One day a thunderstorm blew up along the Tennessee River. It was one of those storms that make the day go dark and the humidity disappear. First it was still and quiet. There was electricity in the air and then the sharp crispness of a summer day being blown wide open as the winds rushed in. We threw open all the doors and windows. We found the classical radio station from two towns away and turned up the bass and cranked up the speakers. We let the wind blow in and churn our summer day around. We let the music we were only vaguely familiar with roar through the house. And we twirled. We twirled in the living room in the wind and in the music. We twirled and we imagined that we were poets and dancers and scientists and spring brides.
We twirled and imagined that if we could let everything --- the thunder, the storm, the wind , the world --- into that house in the banks of the Tennessee River, we could live in our summer dreams forever. When we were girls.
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