There is a story called the Thorn Bird作文|There is a story ca

　　在日常學(xué)習(xí)、工作抑或是生活中，大家一定都接觸過作文吧，作文可分為小學(xué)作文、中學(xué)作文、大學(xué)作文（論文）。相信寫作文是一個讓許多人都頭痛的問題，下面是小編整理的There is a story called the Thorn Bird作文|There is a story called the Thorn Bird 英語作文，供大家參考借鑒，希望可以幫助到有需要的朋友。

　　There is a bird that sings only once in its life. All the while it sought the thornbush, plunged its body into the sharpest thorns, and sang among the wild branches. It eclipsed the lark and the nightingale, and the whole world fell to its feet. In the song, it transcends its own pain and finally dies. The best things can only be bought with great pain. Like perfection, it‘s just a legend.

　　Love the above paragraph. Like the thorn bird, he pursues all his life. The pursuit of ideals, the pursuit of wealth, the pursuit of happiness. However, too busy people, often ignore the roadside charming scenery. We are more greedy and hungry than the Thorn birds. But we don’t have the greatness of the Thorn bird “dead.” In the cycle of life, all the glory has blossomed.

　　Man is the most unsatisfied animal, so man is very tired. We always strive for perfection. Perfection is just a legend. There are no perfect people or things in the world. In fact, very simple is the truth, but we think of the complex. The person who pursues truth, often can be pulled by truth, be immersed in cannot extricate oneself. The pure childhood has been far away from me, leaving only broken memories and endless sadness. I do not know from when, we no longer believe in fairy tales, no longer believe that the prince and princess will have a perfect love; I no longer believe that my favorite glass ball is more precious than pearls. No longer believe that there is no ugliness in a good world, that justice will triumph over evil. Originally, I have long grown up.

　　Once thought, grew up far from their own. But with the departure of childhood, only to find that he has changed imperceptibly.

　　Before familiar with the people, like the flowers, moved by the film, has gradually blurred. No longer clear what they want, no longer believe in fairy tales, no longer believe in promises.

　　Heart in the blow again and again broken, a piece, a piece. The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. Wait for too long, to the end has become numb. I‘ve been told I’m too persistent. Now that is not persistence, but ignorance. Do not give up the abandoned ignorance, do not give up should not give up is persistent. I do not know how to face the people around the change, leave; I don‘t know how to believe someone. Eternity is only a miracle. But miracles don’t happen to me.

　　I‘m used to waiting. Accustomed to apologize, accustomed to concede, accustomed to bear all their own loneliness, fear. All I want is someone who can really open up. I feel so tired of living that I have no way out. Never had, you will not be afraid to lose it. I was afraid of the night, of being alone in an empty house, of not having anyone to talk to. Tears, will flood in the dark night, scrub my memory. I really hope I lose my memory, so I won’t be tired

　　Maybe it‘s just me doing it myself. When it’s lost, I realize I have to cherish it. Before always looking at the distance, looking forward to the miracle of the happening, the pursuit of distant dream. But the dream will wake up, no one will wait for who a lifetime, so, wake up only a person.

　　I like my “friends” very much. I like the feeling of being with them, comfortable and unfettered. Only time will dilute everything, now only left in the hands of incense.

　　In this world, after all, the majority of mediocre people, easy to be satisfied, content with the status quo is not necessarily unhappy. Like the thorn bird, its dying song is not necessarily a lament to itself, it is only lonely.

　　Lonely people tend to be lonelier. Some pain, can not describe, but can let you through the heart; Some people, can not remember, but can let you lose your mind; Some things, can not record, but can let you remember for a lifetime.

　　The thorn bird‘s whole life seeks its own dream. If dreams really come true, will it really be happy...

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