描写人物外貌的英语作文 600字高中英语作文
(一)I think she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. 我认为她是我见过的女孩中最漂亮的一个，She is exciting, amazing and sexy. When we first met I felt her erotic emanation. Now I know that she is
extremely intelligent too.
(二)She is 24 years old, and she has a 3-year-old son. So she is a mother. A sharp mother. She has a piercing in her tongue and two tattoos, one on her stomach (an Indian man’s face) and one on her back (it is non-figurative). I like them very much. If you meet her, look at her face; it is so sweet. She has a birthmark on the tip of her nose.
(三)Sometimes I call her ”spotted nose.” It is so sweet. Really. Like a little cat. But her eyes. They are blue like the sky in spring or the ocean in a stormy night. They are so maddening. Well, let’s talk about her mouth. When she is smiling she has two little face-lines by the side of her lips. (dimples)
(四)She is the most beautiful mother in the world and she is a real muse, a muse which every poet wants, lovely, wild, tender, sweet, and deep with secrets and love. A real woman.
关于春天的英语文章
关于春天的英语文章 精彩句子抢先看 1、In some years,April bursts upon Virginia hills in one prodigious leap-and all the stage is filled at once,whole choruses of tulips,arabesques of forsythia,cadenzas of flowering plum. 2、It pauses,overcome by shyness,like my grandchild at the door,peeping in,ducking out of sight,giggling in the hallway. 3、Where were those seeds a month ago?The apples display their milliner's scraps of ivory silk,rose-tinged.All the sleeping things wake it,feel it, crumble April in your hands.
Spring are not always the same.In some years,April bursts upon Virginia hills in one prodigious leap-and all the stage is filled at once,whole choruses of tulips,arabesques of forsythia,cadenzas of flowering plum.The trees grow leavws overnight.
In other years,spring tipoes in.It pauses,overcome by shyness,like my grandchild at the door,peeping in,ducking out of sight,giggling in the hallway."I know you are out there,"I cry."Come in”And April slips into our arms.
The dogwood bud, pale green,is inlaid with russet markings.Within the perfect cup a score of clustered seeds are nestled.One examines the bud in awe:Where were those seeds a month ago?The apples display their milliner's scraps of ivory silk,rose-tinged.All the sleeping things wake it,feel it, crumble April in your hands.
Look to the rue anemone,if you will,or the pea patch,or to the stubborn weed that thrusts its shoulders through a city street.This is how it was,is now,and ever shall be, the world without end.In the serene certainty of spring recurring,who fear the distant fall?
