初中英語課前3分鐘演講短文（通用3篇）
初中英語課前3分鐘演講短文 篇1
Wide sea diving, the days of the birds to fly. Everyone carries a dream of their own.
However, what is the dream? What is dream? Dream is looking forward to, and the dream is strong - is fleeting dream you insist on the ideal as their courage and perseverance, are you responsible for their own highest level. But ask yourself, how many of us to accomplish his original dream in mind?
Our dream is a simple belief, is a future and life of their own responsibility. Perhaps, is the Youth
grand ambitions; perhaps, is the adolescent confusion and impulsive; maybe just a plain desire, desire applause, eager for success. Countless "may," innumerable "hope" because of our youthful full of miracles, large and small dreams in our hearts, in every corner of life filled with fragrance.
Only the ideal but no effort is useless. If you want to be a teacher, you should to study hard. If you want to be a player, you should do more exercises. If you want to become a businessman, he should learn to get along with people. For example, my wish is to be a famous writer grew up, because I really love writing, so from now on, I should read more, more accumulate knowledge, and strive to improve writing level. No pains, no gains, because my efforts, so my article was punished in many newspapers , and in many composition contest, I see the success I'm happy, so, struggle is the bridge to the ideal.
Yes, my dream. to give my famliy a warm, give my friend happy. Yes, my dream. The podium from the first station began his love this place, started from the first published an article looking forward to the world of words, decided to stay here from the beginning, stick to bottom of my heart desire.
初中英語課前3分鐘演講短文 篇2
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return. But what is more painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let that person know how you feel.
A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it was never meant to be and you just have to let go.
The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.
It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.
初中英語課前3分鐘演講短文 篇3
Springs 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 leaves overnight.
In other years, spring tiptoes 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’re 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 up – primrose, baby iris, blue phlox. The earth warms – you can smell 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 can fear the distant fall?