1、Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anything! Plagiarism is severely punished! Important note: All these essays are strictly for reference only. Any form of copying or imitation is considered plagiarism and hence severely punished by admission officers. Remember that these 50 essay
2、s are very popular and have been around for a very long time (probably even before you were born!). Therefore, the admission officers are VERY familiar with them. Again, do NOT copy or imitate anything from these essays if you want to succeed. 哈佛50篇essay-1。塑造自我 A Formation of Self Before even touchi
3、ng the camera, I made a list of some of the photographs I would take: web covered with water, grimace reflected in the calculator screen, hand holding a tiny round mirror where just my eye is visible, cats striped underbelly as he jumps toward the lens, manhole covers, hand holding a translucent sec
4、tion of orange, pinkies partaking of a pinkie swear, midsection with jeans, hair held out sideways at arms length, bottom of foot, soap on face. This, I think is akin to a formation of self. Perhaps I have had the revelations even if the photos are never taken. I already know the dual strains the bi
5、ographers will talk about, strains twisting through a life. The combination is embodied here: I write joyfully, in the margin of my lab book, beside a diagram of a beaker, “Isolated it today, Beautiful wispy strands, spider webs suspended below the surface, delicate tendrils, cloudy white, lyrical,
6、elegant DNA! This is DNA! So beautiful!” I should have been a Renaissance man. It kills me to choose a field (to choose between the sciences and the humanities!). My mind roams, I wide-eyed, into infinite caverns and loops. I should fly! Let me devour the air, dissolve everything into my bloodstream
7、, learn! The elements are boundless, but, if asked to isolate them, I can see tangles around medicine and writing. The trick will be to integrate them into a whole, and then maybe I can take the photograph. Aahh, is it already there, no? Cant you see it? I invoke the Daedalus in me, everything that
8、has gone into making me, hoping it will be my liberation. Music is one such element. The experience of plying in an orchestra from the inside is an investigation into subjectivity. It is reminiscent of Heisenbergs uncertainty principle: the more one knows the speed of a particle, the less one knows
9、its position. Namely the position of the observer matters and affects the substance of the observation; even science is embracing embodiment. I see splashes of bright Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anything! Plagiarism is severely punished! rain in violin arpeggios fading away
10、 in singed circles, a clarinet solo fades blue to black, and a flute harmony leaves us moving sideways, a pregnant silence, the trumpets interrupt with the smell of lightning. Perhaps in the audience you would sense something else. I think of rowing as meditation. Pshoow, huh, aaah; pshoow, huh, aaa
11、h. I can close my eyes and still hear it. We glide over reflected sky and lean. And defy the request for “leadership positions,” laugh at it, because it misses the entire point, that we are integral, one organism. I hear the oars cut the water, shunk shunk; there are no leaders. Once I heard an echo
12、 from all quarters. “Do not rush,” said the conductor, “follow the baton.” “Do not rush,” said the coach, “watch the body in front of you.” Do not rush. I write about characters words: how they use words, how they manipulate them, how they create their own realities; words used dangerously, flippant
13、ly, talking at cross purposes, deliberately being vague; the nature of talking, of words and realities. Perhaps mine has been a flight of fancy too. But, come on, its in the words, a person, a locus, somewhere in the words. Its all words. I love the words. I should be a writer, but I will be a docto
14、r, and out of the philosophical tension I will create a self. ANALYSIS This essay is a good example of an essay that shows rather than tells the reader who the author is. Through excited language and illustrative anecdotes, she offers a complex picture of her multifaceted nature. The writing is as f
15、luid as its subject matter. One paragraph runs into the next with little break for transition or explicit connection. It has the feel of an ecstatic stream-of-consciousness, moving rapidly toward a climactic end. The author is as immediate as she is mysterious. She creates and intimate relationship
16、with her reader, while continuously keeping him/her “in the dark” as she jumps from one mental twist to another. She openly exposes her charged thoughts, yet leaves the ties between them uncemented. This creates an unpredictability that is risky but effective. Still, one ought to be wary in presenti
17、ng as essay of this sort. The potential for obliqueness is high, and, even here, the reader is at times left in confusion regarding the coherence of the whole. Granted the essay is about confluence of seeming opposites, but poetic license should not obscure important content. This particular essay c
18、ould have been made stronger with a more explicit recurring theme to help keep the reader focused. In general, though, this essay stands out as a bold, impassioned presentation of self. It lingers in the memory as an entangled web of an intricate mind. Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or i
19、mitate anything! Plagiarism is severely punished! “Growing Up” “Growing Up” Im short. Im five foot five well, five foot six if I want to impress someone. If the average height of American men is five foot ten, that means Im nearly half a foot shorter than the average Joe out there. And then there ar
20、e the basketball players. My height has always been something thats set me apart; its helped define me. Its just that as long as I can remember, I havent liked the definition very much. Every Sunday in grade school my dad and I would watch ESPN Primetime Football. Playing with friends at home, I alw
21、ays imagined the booming ESPN voice of Chris Berman giving the play-by-play of our street football games. But no matter how well I performed at home with friends, during school recess the stigma of “short kid” stuck with me while choosing teams. Still concerned as senior year rolled along, I visited
22、 a growth specialist. Pacing the exam room in a shaky, elliptical orbit worried, “What if Ive stopped growing? Will my social status forever be marked by my shortness?” In a grade school dream, I imagined Chris “ESPN” Bermans voice as he analyzed the fantastic catch I had made for a touchdown when w
23、ith a start the doctor strode in. damp with nervous sweat, I sat quietly with my mom as he showed us the X-ray taken of my hand. The bones in my seventeen-year-old body had matured. I would not grow any more. Whoa. I clenched the steering wheel in frustration as I drove home. What good were my grade
24、s and “college transcript” achievements when even my friends poked fun of the short kid? What good was it to pray, or to genuinely live a life of love? No matter how many Taekwondo medals I had won, could I ever be considered truly athletic in a wiry, five foot five frame? I could be dark and handso
25、me, but could I ever be the “tall” in “tall, dark and handsome”? All I wanted was someone special to look up into my eyes; all I wanted was someone to ask, “Could you reach that for me?” Its been hard to deal with. I havent answered all those questions, but I have learned that height isnt all its ma
26、de out to be. I d rather be a shorter, compassionate person than a tall tyrant. I can be a giant in so many other ways: intellectually, spiritually and emotionally. Ive ironically grown taller from being short. Its enriched my life. Being short has certainly had its advantages. During elementary sch
27、ool in earthquake-prone California for example, my teachers constantly praised my “duck and cover” skills. The school budget was tight and the desks were so small an occasional limb could always be seen sticking out. Yet Chris Shim, “blessed” in height, always managed to squeeze himself into a compa
28、ct and safe fetal position. The same quality has paid off in hide-and-go-seek. (Im the unofficial champion on my block.) Lincoln once debated with Senator Stephen A. Douglas a magnificent orator, nationally recognized as the leader of the Democratic Party of 1858 and barely five feet four inches tal
29、l. It seems silly, but standing on the floor of the Senate last year I remembered Senator Douglas and imagined that I would one day debate with a Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anything! Plagiarism is severely punished! future president. (It helped to have a tall, lanky, beard
30、ed man with a stove-top hat talk with me that afternoon.) But I could just as easily become an astronaut, if not for my childlike, gaping-mouth-eyes-straining wonderment of the stars, then maybe in the hope of growing a few inches (the spine spontaneously expands in the absence of gravity). Even at
31、five feet, six inches, the actor Dustin Hoffman held his own against Tome Cruise in the movie Rainman and went on to win his second Academy Award for Best Actor. Michael J. Fox (55”) constantly uses taller actors to his comedic advantage. Height has enhanced the athleticism of “Muggsy” Bogues, the s
32、hortest player in the history of the NBA at five foot three. Hes used that edge to lead his basketball team in steals (they dont call him “Muggsy” for nothing). Their height has put no limits to their work in the arts or athletics. Neither will mine. Im five foot five. Ive struggled with it at times
33、, but Ive realized that being five-five cant stop me from joining the Senate. It wont stem my dream of becoming an astronaut (I even have the application from NASA). My height cant prevent me from directing a movie and excelling in Taekwondo (or even basketball). At five foot five I can laugh, jump,
34、 run, dance, write, paint, help, volunteer, pray, love and cry. I can break 100 in bowling. I can sing along to Nat King Cole. I can recite Audrey Hepburns lines from Breakfast at Tiffanys. I can run the mile in under six minutes, dance like a wild monkey and be hopelessly wrapped up in a good book
35、(though I have yet to master the ability to do it all at once). Ive learned that my height, even as a defining characteristic, is only a part of the whole. It wont limit me. Besides, this way Ill never outgrow my favorite sweater. ANALYSIS “Growing Up” follows the form of discussing a physical or ch
36、aracter trait, and exploring its impact on ones life. Shims strategy is for the reader to understand his frustrations with his height, a physical characteristic that has played a great role in the way he sees himself among his family, friends, and peers. This piece works because it is to the point,
37、honest, and straight-forward. The opening, “Im short,” delivers a clear message to the reader of the essays main idea. As the essay progresses, Shim reveals his personal feelings and aspirations. He gives us a window into the very moment of discovery that he would no longer be able to grow. We are t
38、aken on a tour of what makes Shim tick. Being short has shaped and influenced his outlook on the world, yet it has not diminished his goals. It is personal, yet remains positive. He recognizes both the benefits and negatives of his short stature and is able to convey them in a thoughtful manner. Fur
39、thermore, the essay not only lets us into Shims thoughts on being small but tells us his varied interests in politics, space exploration, sports, and the arts. Shim hasnt just told us how his height “doesnt limit him” he has shown us why. Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anythin
40、g! Plagiarism is severely punished! “Pieces of Me” “Pieces of Me” -Sandra E. Pullman The black and white composition book is faded, and the corners are bent. It doesnt lie flat as many paper clips mark favorite places. Almost every sheet is covered with writing some in bold handwriting hardly revise
41、d, others uncertainly jotted down completely marked up and rewritten. Flipping through the thin pages, I smile, remembering from careless thoughts to assassinate prose to precisely worded poems, this journal marks a year of my life as a writer. In junior year, my English teacher asked us to keep a j
42、ournal for creative writing, as a release from otherwise stressful days. We were free to write on any topic we chose. From then on as often as I could, I would steal away to the old wooden rocking chair in the corner of my room and take time off to write. As I now try to answer the question of who a
43、m I for this essay, I immediately think of my journal. I am a writer. My writing is the most intensely personal part of me. I pour my heart out into my journal and am incredibly protective of it. Its difficult for me to handle criticism or change rejection: I can tell he wouldnt read it right wouldn
44、t let the meaning sink into him slow and delicious it would sound awful through his careless eyes I want him to open himself up to it and let in a piece of me I want him to know this side of me no one ever has I want him to be the one to understand let me see he prods once more I tell myself this ti
45、me Ill do it I let myself go but as it passes into his rough hands I see it for the first time its awkward and wrong just like me I snatch it back from him and crumble it it falls with hardly a noise into the trash I am a child. Growing up, I would always ride my bike over to the elementary school a
46、cross the street and into the woods behind it. Crab apple trees scented the fall air and the winding dirt paths went on forever. Id drop my bike at the base of a tree and climb as high as I could. All afternoon I would sit in these trees whose branches curved out a seat seemingly made just for me. O
47、ne day I biked across the street to come face to face with construction trucks. Those woods are now a parking lot. I cry every time I see cars parked where my crab apple trees once stood: He allowed the sweet sadness to linger As he contemplated a world Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or
48、imitate anything! Plagiarism is severely punished! That he knew too much about. I am a daughter, a cousin, a great-niece. My family is very important to me. My mother has a huge extended family and we all get together once a year for a reunion. I play with my little cousins and toss them in the air
49、to their squealing delight. Many of my relatives are elderly, however, and I find it hard to deal with serious illness in these people I love. I am also deathly afraid of growing old and losing all sense of myself. When visiting relatives, I have to come to terms with these feelings: With the toe of my sneaker, I push at the ancient pale yellow carpet. Like all the items in the apartment, it is way past its prime. It is matted down in most places, pressed into the floor from years of peoples shoes traversing back and forth. I
