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This I Believe. Examples of Opening Paragraphs.

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this i believe

This I Believe

Examples of Opening Paragraphs


I believe people have become tighter, meaner and less tolerant than ever. I never remember people being so uncool. I don’t remember people getting the third degree because they decided to wear brown shoes instead of black. If you get too close to someone on the road, they want to get out and shoot you for possibly hitting their car. What’s wrong with these people?

I believe it pays to be cool… most people in this day and age are always terribly stressed and hyper-sensitive to absolutely everything. They will age quickly. Cool people stay young forever!

Differences are important and they should be respected. For example, many important people throughout history were considered different, such as Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Harriet Tubman, Peter Tchaikovsky, and Abraham Lincoln. They did great things, but some people thought they were weird, because they had strong feelings about something. I can relate to these people, because I’ve been in that situation before, many times.


Last week, my granddaughter started kindergarten, and, as is conventional, I wished her success. I was lying. What I actually wish for her is failure. I believe in the power of failure.

Success is boring. Success is proving that you can do something that you already know you can do, or doing something correctly the first time, which can often be a problematical victory. First-time success is usually a fluke. First-time failure, by contrast, is expected; it is the natural order of things.

As I sat watching the clock slowly whittle away the last remaining minutes of my elementary school career, I noticed my heart was beating rather quickly.

With only sixty seconds left of sixth grade, I slyly slipped my hand into my backpack and carefully examined the weapon I had created in order to punctuate my final day as an elementary school student. I was anxious; my palms were sweating, and my heart was racing. My anxiety is not to be confused with the excitement felt by the other students in my class, who were maniacally anticipating the official start of summer. No, I was frantically trying to construct a “Plan B”, as I had stumbled upon a fatal flaw in “Plan A” earlier in the day. Stupidly, I had not had the forethought to think of a contingency plan, but I was not about to let that stop me from utilizing the light, rubber sphere that was safely stowed within my bag.


From the time I was young, I’ve noticed changes in people’s hairstyles, clothes, facial expressions, behaviors. New blouses, new shoes, new bangs, a frown instead of a smile—you name it, I usually see it.

Often times, people act surprised and ask, “You noticed?” I respond, “I pay attention.”

I believe in paying attention to the world around me, in the power of paying attention.

I believe in studying.

I often find a room in my school’s library that reminds me of a cell in a monastery. The room is white and perfectly still. Here, I move fluidly through my notes, textbook, atlas of human anatomy, and back again, without the distraction of even a breath. For me, studying has become a solitary ritual, but I am not alone. There are other students in identical rooms, heads hinged down, shoulders hovered above fiberglass tables, reading as if they were searching for something elsewhere.


I feel that when I get old and gray, memories will be the only thing I have to bring a smile each day. Unlike most, I won’t be thinking of the usual things that people dwell on, like the appearance that comes with old age, or even dying. As I look at how the times will be changing in front of me, I will only be thinking of the moments that I stepped out of the norm, the times that I chose to be different not to draw attention to myself, but as a statement to my peers and ultimately the world, that I am an individual.

By choosing to get a Mohawk, I was taking a chance, not only with my hair, but with my pride as well. I have never been a guy that completely blended in with the crowd, but I had never done anything this dangerous either.

I walked into the toyshop, clutching my mother’s hand. I browsed around, admiring the fluffy stuffed animals, brightly colored kites, and shiny plastic jewelry, all the while remembering what my mother had told me earlier, that “I was allowed to look but I couldn’t buy anything” because I already spent my five dollar earlier at the candy store. I spotted a basket on the counter filled with tiny rubber pigs. The old man at the counter saw me admiring them, knelt down beside me, and explained that these were lucky pigs that take away all your worries as long as you keep it close to you. . I showed them to my mom and asked if I could get one; they were only five cents. Insistent on teaching me the value of a dollar, she wouldn’t budge. , I hid my face in my hands and began to cry. I was afraid. If a lucky pig took away my fears, imagine the rest of my life without one. The man at the counter beckoned to me. I walked over, sniffling. He handed me a tiny rubber pig and said, “Keep this little guy safe for me, would you?” My face lit up and I wrapped my arms around him.


I recently read a quote by the late Irish novelist Jonathan Swift, who said: “May you live all the days of your life.” Even as I read it, I realized that that simple phrase caused a seed that had been growing for thirteen years to burst – suddenly, vibrantly – into bloom.

I believe that, as Jonathan Swift said, you should live all the days of your life. You only get so many days on Earth – 36,500 if you’re lucky – and I believe that each one should be memorable in some way. You could make this happen by trying a new food, making a new friend, or embarking on an adventure, but you should try to live every day. Don’t procrastinate on things just because you can. Go out of your way to make each day an adventure

One cookie left. Only one sweet, tantalizing, perfect cookie left.

It’s the unspoken prize that everyone wants and no one will take. It would be so simple for me just to grab it. I mean, it is barely three feet from the plate to my mouth. One tiny movement of my arm and I’ll be enjoying the gooey-goodness that only a chocolate-chip cookie can bring. I can see myself throwing all self-control to the wind and gleefully cramming that last precious cookie into my face, my grunts of delight audible through the storm of crumbs flying from my mouth… but I leave the last cookie.