一篇关于爱的英语文章

When Love Beckons YouWhen love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to our roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.But if, in your fear, you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedneand paout of love’s threshing-floor, into the seasonleworld where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but it self and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must have desires, let these be your desires:To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.To know the pain of too much tenderness.To be wounded by your own understanding of love;And to bleed willingly and joyfully.To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;To return home at eventide with gratitude;And then to sleep with a payer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

一篇关于爱的英语文章

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 a 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 it is that I am unable to speak these words in her presence, but they flow easily from my pen.

How does a daughter 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 what her mother really is?

How does a grown woman thank 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, expect to bleher 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.

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