成長(zhǎng)英語(yǔ)作文
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成長(zhǎng)英語(yǔ)作文1
Looking back, we have already grew up, 18 has often hung in the mouth. Once upon a time, that is so sacred 18 years old, only know when we grow up, can fly. But now, when I really must face it, when suddenly feel a vague unprepared. I worry about whether oneself can fully understand 18 this ordinary digital contain rich connotations, but I understand, 18 means responsibility. Maybe growth itself is a kind of responsibility!
High school years, we spent six years before the flowering, 17 in the rainy season. Once in the confusion, and in quiet sighed for yourself in confusion and calm, we grow up. Hence, began to use my own brain to think about everything around, perhaps this is shallow, but we should not blindly follow a group of pride, to the child with reason and mature farewell once young ignorant.
18 is an end, is a start. At this moment, and lost, in pursuit of the conversion between, we feel happy, also experiencing pain. Almost all of the pain comes from the dream. When we tasted suffering to realize your dream, finally, it joy appreciate that: pain, often breeds happy seeds. This is not an easy growth, pain and sufferings, is not bad, we know that, when reality cannot change, we shall timely change, but we have always loved with real bargain, because we love the world, the happineand warmth and love and pain of the world. In the proceof growing up, we learned that you, for we cannot untie those small knot, we learned to smile, to appreciate beauty of it. Because we know that just graciously turned, can find new and beautiful scenery.
Growth is a pain, but I don't want to let it leave scar. Growth is a metamorphosis, experienced hardships to break coon.
In the growth of the road is often lonely, to learn in no one's time to give ourselves. Don't worry, fear brave, frankly, facing the growth of everything for yourself in the faith, encouragement, give yourself to yourself. In the growth of the journey, we need is calm, quiet, bravely facing.
成長(zhǎng)英語(yǔ)作文2
I believe that my beliefs are changing. Nothing is positive. Perhaps I’m in a stage of metamorphosis, which will one day have me emerging complete, sure of everything. Perhaps, I shall spend my life searching.
Until this winter, I believed in outward things, in beauty as I found it in nature and art. Beauty past—swift and sure—from the outside to the inside, bringing intense emotion. I felt a formless faith when I rode through summerwoods, when I heard the counterpoint of breaking waves, when I held a flower in my hand.
There was the same inspiration from art, here and there in flashes; in seeing for the first time the delicacy of a green jade vase, or the rich beauty of a rug; in hearing a passage of music played almost perfectly; in watching Markov dance Giselle; most of all, in reading. Other people’s creations, their sensitivity to emotion, color, sound, their feeling for form, instructed me. The necessity for beauty, I found to be the highest good, the human soul’s greatest gift. But there were moments when I wasn’t sure. There was an emptiness inside, which beauty could not fill.
This winter, I came to college. The questions put to me changed. Lists of facts—and who dragged whom how many times around the walls of what—lost importance. Instead, I was asked eternal question: what is beauty, what is truth, what is God? I talked about faith with other students. I read St. Augustine and Tolstoy. I wondered if I hadn’t been worshipping around the edges. Nature and art were the edges, and inner faith was the center. I discovered—really discovered—that I had a soul.
Just sitting in the sun one day, I realized the shattering meaning of St. Augustine’s statement that, “The sun and the moon, all the wonders of nature, are not God’s first works but second to spiritual works.” I had, up till then, perceived spiritual beauty only through the outward. It had come into me. Now I am groping towards an inner, spiritual consciousness that will be able to go out from me. I am lost in the middle ground. I’m learning.
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