【精华】英语高中作文汇编6篇
在学习、工作、生活中，大家最不陌生的就是作文了吧，作文是经过人的思想考虑和语言组织，通过文字来表达一个主题意义的记叙方法。你知道作文怎样才能写的好吗？下面是小编收集整理的英语高中作文6篇，希望对大家有所帮助。
英语高中作文 篇1
It has been reported that many stores in the supermarket had been shut down. It is known to all that as the development of e-commerce, people like to buy things online, which makes the shops have less customers. The challenge that e-commerce brings requires the traditional business to make some changes.
据报道,许多在超市的商店被关闭。众所周知,随着电子商务的发展,人们喜欢在网上买东西,这使得商店客户变少。电子商务带来的挑战需要传统业务做出一些改变。
There are many reasons for the shops to go bankrupted. On the one hand, the rent is high. The shops in the supermarket need to pay a lot of money in order to rent the good place. We can see that every year, the price of land is increasing, so as the rent. On the other hand, most people go to the clothes shop to try on the clothes and buy the same style online. Because the price will be much cheaper online.
商店破产的原因有很多。一方面,房租很高。在超市的商店需要支付很多钱，为了租个好地方。我们可以看到,每一年,土地价格增加,租金也一样。另一方面,大多数人去服装店试穿衣服，然后在网上购买相同的样式。因为网上价格会便宜很多。
The traditional shops face the challenge, they need to make some adjustments, or they will be replaced by e-commerce completely. The customers are in the first place, if the shops have some features that attract them, they are willing to pay the bill. So don’t complain about the Internet, making change is the way out.
传统的商店面临挑战,它们需要做一些调整,否则会完全被电子商务所取代。顾客们是上帝,如果商店有一些特性,吸引着他们,他们愿意支付账单。所以不要抱怨互联网,改变才是出路。
英语高中作文 篇2
In every school a "top" crowd sets the pace, while the others follow their lead. Let's say the top crowd decides that it is smart to wear bright red sweaters.Pretty soon everybody is wearing a bright red sweater. There is nothing wrong with that, except the fact that on some people a bright red sweater is extremely unbecoming. The situation can even become dangerous, if the top crowd decides that it is smart to drink or to drive cars at seventy miles an hour.Then the people who follow the lead are endangering their lives. They are like the sheep being led to the butcher.
Now, chances are that you have come across situations like these more than once in your life; chances are that one time or another you probably did something you knew to be wrong. You may have excused yourself by saying, "Gee, the crowd does it." Well, let the crowd do it, but don't do it yourself. Learn to say, "No."
Develop your own standards and your own judgment. If you know the crowd is planning something you disagree with,have the courage to bow out politely. You'll have the satisfaction of standing on your own two feet.
每所学校中都有一群领头学生做出榜样，其他人蜂拥效仿。比如这些领头学生决定穿鲜红色羊毛衫很时尚，那很快人人都会穿着鲜红色羊毛衫。这件事本身没什么问题，除了有些人极不适合穿鲜红色毛衫这一事实。但如果这些领头学生觉得喝酒或以70英里的时速开车很时尚的话，情况甚至会变得危险起来。这些盲从的学生在危及自己的生命。他们就像被领到屠夫前的羊群。
在你生命中，这种情况你可能遇到不止一次;可能你时不时也会做自己知道是不对的事情。你可能会为自己开脱说：“大家都在这么做嘛。”那让大家这么做好了，但你自己不要这样做。要学会说“不。”
要有自己的标准和判断。如果你知道大家正计划你不赞成的事情，鼓起勇气礼貌地退出。你会为自己学会自立感到满意的。
英语高中作文 篇3
there were three of them. there were four of us, and april lay on the campsite and on the river, a miture of dawn at a damp etreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. this was deer lodge on the pine river in ossipee, new hampshire, though the lodge was naught but a foundation remnant in the earth. brother bentleys father, oren, had found this place sometime after the first world war, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude abounding here. now we were here, post world war ii, post korean war, vietnam war on the brink. so much learned, so much yet to learn.
peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a cooper hawk that had smashed down through trees for a squealing rabbit, yap of a fo at a youngster, a skunk at rooting.
we had pitched camp in the near darkness, ed leblanc, brother bentley, walter ruszkowski, myself. a dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a loggers path) flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought wed again have no traffic, came a growling engine, an old solid body van, a chevy, the kind i had driven for frankie pike and the lobster pound in lynn delivering lobsters throughout the merrimack valley. it had pre-ww ii high fenders, a faded black paint on a body youd swear had been hammered out of corrugated steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer of ammunition on the band. they could have been conscripts for emilano zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.
"mornin, been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. his hands were large, the fingers long and i could picture them in a shop barn working a primal plane across the face of a maple board. custom-made, old elegance, those hands said.
< 2 >
"barely had coffee," ed leblanc said, the most vocal of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "weve got a whole pot almost. have what you want." the pot was pointed out sitting on a hunk of grill across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. the pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, wed gone back to get it. when we fished the pine river, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though wed often unearth our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. it is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon in you, stoke last evenings cheese and pepperoni. first man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. that means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers of false dawn. i suspect thats where "scrambled eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. so, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.
"youre early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." eddie added, his invitation tossed kindly into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "we have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." we have the food of kings if you really want to know. there were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 main street, saugus, massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.
"been there aready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old boy scout sash across his chest, the galay of flies in supreme positioning. they were old yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three oclock to get here at this hour. they were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. that fact alone would win any of us over. obviously, theyd been around, a heft of time already accrued.
< 3 >
then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. it was not a timid banging, not a minor signal. bang! bang! it came, and bang! again. and the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "im not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab away." a toothless meshing came in his words, like walter brennan at work in the jail in rio bravo or some such movie.
"comin, pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout sash riding him like a bandoleer.
they pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show his venerable self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley cars. across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lakes three-pounder. but on the pine river, upstream or downstream, under alders choking some parts of the rivers flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge and phantom trout hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.
"oh, boy," eddie said at an aside, "theres the boss man, and look at those tools." admiration leaked from his voice.
rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied, and his venerable self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. i was willing to bet that my sister pat, the dealer in antiques, would scoop up that rocker if given the slightest chance. the old one looked about the campsite, noted clothes drying from a previous days rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut and true in its epanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt raccoons with smelly cork handles, no garbage in sight. he nodded.
we had passed muster.
"you the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever year. we knowed sunthin bout you. never disturbed you afore. but we share the good spots." he looked closely at brother bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "your daddy ever fish here, son?"
< 4 >
brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "a ways back," brother said in his clipped north saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. old oren bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge, and a great curve in the pine river so that a miles walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. paradise up north.
his venerable self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "knowed him way back some. met him at the iron bridge. we passed a few times." instantly we could see the story. a whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. he pointed at the coffeepot. "the boysll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. ill sit a while and take some of thet." he said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before i knew why.
the white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. he spoke to his sons. "you boys be back no moren two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."
the most orderly son said, "sure, pa. two-three hours." the two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the pine river, their boots swishing at thigh line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered limbs, eperience on the move. trout beware, we thought.
"we been carpenters fever," he said, the clip still in his words. "those boys a mine been some good at it too." his head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur of the stream a tinkling idyllic music rising up the banking. old venerable himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing taking place. he was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. it said, "im paying attention and i know you are. this is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in may with the mayflies, in june with the black flies." the gift and the scourge, wed often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.
< 5 >
brother was still at memory, we could tell. silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. a bird talked to us from a high limb. a fo called to her young. we were on the pine river once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in paradise.
"names roger treadwell. boys are nathan and truett." the introductions had been accounted for.
old venerable roger treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "you boys wouldnt have a couple spare beers, would ya?"
now thats the way to start the day on the pine river.
英语高中作文 篇4
Last Friday was my birthday.We had a birthday party at school.
We held it at the break time.My parents brought me a big birthday cake.
I lit the candles and put them on the cake.My classmates sang the birthday song to me.I was so touching at the moment.
I made a wish that I can study well and make progress every day.Soon after that,I cut the cake and shared it with my classmates.
Although the birthday part lasted for 20 minutes,we all felt happy.
上周五是我的生日。在学校里我们有一个生日聚会。
我们在休息时间举行。我的父母给我一个大的生日蛋糕。我点燃了蜡烛,把它们放在蛋糕。我的同学对我唱起了生日歌。此刻我是如此动人。
我希望我能好好学习,天天向上。不久后,我切蛋糕,与我的同学分享它。
虽然生日部分持续了20分钟,我们都感到快乐。
英语高中作文 篇5
Most people believe that perfect outlook will bring good luck, those people who have good looking will get succeed easier than those who don’t. The fact is that not all the good looking people share good chances to become succeed. It is reported that the women who have perfect outlook are hard to get people’s acceptance, because people will treat the pretty women’s success as the lure of their bosses. This is most people’s impression about pretty women, they think the pretty girls don’t have special talent, people own their success to the pleasure of boss. While on the other hand, handsome men are easier to get people’s acceptance, the good looking will make men impress others, people admit the hand guys, for they think they are not only talented, but also attractive. Pretty women and handsome men get different treatment when they succeed, we should not judge people from their outlook.
大部分人相信完美的外貌会带来好运，长得好看的人比那些长得不好看的.人容易成功。
实际上，并不是所有长得好看的人都有好机会获得成功。
据报道，长得好看的女人很难得到人们的认同，因为人们会把漂亮女人的成功当做是对老板的勾引。
这是大部分人对漂亮女人的印象，他们觉得美丽的女孩没有特殊才能，人们把她们成功归功于老板的喜悦。
然而另一方面，长得英俊的男人很容易的到人们的认同，好看的外貌能给人留下很深的印象
人们佩服英俊的小伙子，因为他们觉得小伙子不仅有天赋，而且也好看。漂亮女人和英俊男人成功的时候人们会对他们有不同的态度
我们不应该根据人们的外貌来判断人。
英语高中作文 篇6
Everyone knows that failure always accompanies us in our life. No matter what we do, none of us can say we will surely succeed, because there is no such thing as plain sailing.
大家都知道,失败总是伴随着我们的生活。无论我们做什么,没有人能说我们肯定会成功,因为没有所谓的一帆风顺。
About failure, different people have different opinions. Generally speaking, on one hand, people think "failure is the mother of success". They think we won't understand the profound meaning of success until we go through failure. On the other hand, for some people, failure is frustration. They think if a person goes through too much failure, he will collapse and lose confidence in his life.
对失败,不同的人有不同的观点。一般来说,一方面,人们认为“失败是成功之母”。他们认为我们不会理解的深刻含义成功直到我们经历失败。另一方面,对于一些人来说,失败是失望。他们认为如果一个人经历太多的失败,他将会崩溃,在他的生活中失去信心。
In my opinion, failure is the footstone and catalyst of the edifice of success. "You don't know what you have until it's gone." If you have never lost it, and always get it easily, you will not cherish what you get and own.
在我看来,失败是成功的基石和催化剂的大厦。“你不知道你所拥有的,直到它消失了。如果你没有失去它,总是很容易,你不会珍惜你所得到的。”
