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Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the

lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry has been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrance have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contendingif we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtainedwe must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitableand let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

I Am a Filipino I am a Filipino inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such I must prove equal to a two-fold task- the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future. I sprung from a hardy race child of many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope- hope in the free abundance of new land that was to be their home and their childrens forever. This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green and purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain that their view

encompassed, every river and lake that promise a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is a hollowed spot to me. By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this land and all the appurtenances thereof the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and timber, the mountains with their bowels swollen with minerals the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for centuries without number, the land of my fathers. This land I received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until the world no more. I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes seed that flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapulapu to battle against the alien foe that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor. That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gergorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst fourth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacaang Palace, in the symbolic act of possession and racial vindication. The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again. It is the insigne of my race, and my generation is but a stage in the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness. I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an eager participant in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shape of the lethargy that has bound his limbs, and start moving where destiny awaits. For, I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have destroyed forever the peace and quiet that once were ours. I can no longer live, being apart from those world now trembles to the roar of bomb and cannon shot. For no man and no nation is an island, but a part of the main,

there is no longer any East and West only individuals and nations making those momentous choices that are hinges upon which history resolves. At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand a forlorn figure in the eyes of some, but not one defeated and lost. For through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me I have seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light of justice and equality and freedom and my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert or destroy. I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I may prove worthy of my inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries, and it shall be compounded of the joyous cries of my Malayan forebears when they first saw the contours of this land loom before their eyes, of the battle cries that have resounded in every field of combat from Mactan to Tirad pass, of the voices of my people when they sing: Land of the Morning,Child of the sun returningNeer shall invaders trample thy sacred shore. Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen million people all vibrating to one song, I shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge. Out of the songs of the farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields; out of the sweat of the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal; out of the silent endurance of stevedores at the piers and the ominous grumbling of peasants Pampanga; out of the first cries of babies newly born and the lullabies that mothers sing; out of the crashing of gears and the whine of turbines in the factories; out of the crunch of ploughs upturning the earth; out of the limitless patience of teachers in the classrooms and doctors in the clinics; out of the tramp of soldiers marching, I shall make the pattern of my pledge: "I am a Filipino born of freedom and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance for myself and my childrens children forever.

I Am a Filipino By Carlos P. Romulo

I Have a Dream Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have come to our nations capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of Gods children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negros legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will

now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. we must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" we can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negros basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governors lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. This will be the day when all of Gods children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring." And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of Gods children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Dirty Hands Im proud of my dirty hands. Yes, they are dirty. And they are rough and knobby and calloused. And Im proud of the dirt and the knobs and the calluses. I didnt get them that way by playing bridge or drinking afternoon tea out of dainty cups, or playing the well-advertised Good Samaritan at charity balls. I got them that way by working with them, and Im proud of the work and the dirt. Why shouldnt I feel proud of the work they do these dirty hands of mine? My hands are the hands of plumbers, of truck drivers and street cleaners; ofcarpenters; engineers, machinists and workers in steel. They are not pretty hands, they are dirty and knobby and calloused. But they are strong hands, hands that make so much that the world must have or die. Someday, I think, the world should go down on its knees and kiss all the dirty hands of the working world, as in the days long past, armored knights would kiss the hands of ladies fair. Im proud of my dirty hands. The world has kissed such hands. The world will always kiss such hands. Men and women put reverent lips to the hands of Him who held the hammer and the saw and the plane. His werent pretty hands either when they chopped trees, dragged rough lumber, and wielded carpenters tools. They were workingmans hands strong, capable proud hands. And werent pretty hands when the executioners got through them. They were torn right clean through by ugly nails, and the blood was running from them, and the edges of the wounds were raw and dirty and swollen; and the joints were crooked and the fingers were horribly bent in a mute appeal for love. They werent pretty hands then, but, Oh God, they were beautiful those hands of the Savior. Im proud of those dirty hands, hands of my Savior, hands of God. And Im proud of my hands too, dirty hands, like the hands of my Savior, the Hands of my God!

by John P. Delaney S.J.

The Death Penalty Gentlemen of the Jury, if there is a culprit here, it is not my son, it is myself, it is I! I, who for these twenty-five years have opposed capital punishment, have contented for the inviolability of human life, have committed this crime for which my son is now arraigned. Here I denounce myself, Mr. Advocate General! I have committed it under all aggravated circumstances deliberately, repeatedly, and tenaciously. Yes, this old and absurd lextalionix this law of blood for blood I have combated all my life all my life, Gentlemen of the Jury! And while I have breath, I will continue to combat it, by all my efforts as a writer, by all my words and all my votes as a legislator! I declare it before the crucifix; before that victim of the penalty of death, who sees and hears us; before that gibbet, to which, two thousand years ago, for the eternal instruction of the generations the human law nailed the Divine! In all that my son has written on the subject of capital punishment and for writing and publishing that for which he is now on trial, in all that he has written, he has merely proclaimed the sentiments with which, from his infancy, I have inspired him. Gentlemen, Jurors, the right to criticize a law, and to criticize it severely especially a penal is placed beside the duty of amelioration, like the torch beside the work under the artisans hand. The right of the journalist is a sacred, as necessary, as the right of the legislator. What are the circumstances? A man, a convict, a sentenced wretch, is dragged, on a certain morning, to one of our public squares. There he finds the scaffold! He shudders. He struggles. He refuses to die. The victim clings to the scaffold, and shrieks for pardon. His clothes are torn, his shoulders bloody still he resists. They drag him forth, haggard, bloody, weeping, pleading howling for life calling upon God, calling upon his father and mother, For like a very child had this man become in the prospect of death they drag him forth to execution. He is hoisted on the scaffold, and his head falls! And then through every conscience runs a shoulder. Never had legal murder appeared with an aspect so indecent, so abominable. All feel jointly implicated in the deed it is at this very moment that from a young mans breast escapes a cry, wrung from his very heart a cry of pity and anguish a cry of horror a cry of humanity. And this cry would punish! And in the face of the appalling facts which I have narrated, you would say to the guillotine, Thou art right! and to Pity, saintly Pity, Thou art wrong! Gentlemen of the Jury, it cannot be! Gentlemen, I have finished.

I ACCUSE Whether you like it or not, you are sitting atop a time bomb. Worst, you are taking lightly the inescapable reality that it exist all because you have been lulled all these years into a belief that everything is fine, just fine, thanks to a captive, intimidated and prostituted media. So, on with that false sense of security, the serenity with which you have accepted the things around you. Its such a lovely landscape, you say, Join me, lets bask under the sun. before it explodes you dont say!

In the meantime, the timing device ticks on, ticking off the seconds from the hour, until, with the final countdown to zero, it is too late to avoid the explosion to elude the ugly truth, that we have been gullible idiots all along, playing into the hands of sweet-talking demagogues with their ready answers and empty promises. But the signs could not have escaped you they are so starkly real to be ignored, so intimately linked with everyday life, yours and mine ours. You could not have failed to notice them, or while they bluntly portray the present, they are just as inseparably a part of your future and the future of your children.

Thus, before you, is a wide panoramic view of the suffering from want, from neglect, from the indifference of those in whom the welfare of the people has been entrusted. One wonders how you can be so blind. While no relief is in sight nor had been attempted in all seriousness and dedication, now here comes again Mr. X with tongue in cheek, unabashed, and with all the theatrics at his command, beguiling the electorate once more with his artifice, offering himself for another tenure of incompetence, poor performance, and untrustworthiness in public office. God! What have we done that we should be visited by such a blight! There really are people who simply do not know how much we endure them! Meanwhile, the time-bomb ticks on and unless defused on time, we shall all be blown to smithereens! Just what is ailing us today? Mr. Xs entry into the picture is illustrative of the callousness, the daring, and the atrocious impudence of phonies, so thick-faced they are insensitive to

the public condemnation of their crimes and misdeeds. These are the kinds who prey on a credulous electorate, then, before the ink dries on their oaths of office, the kind who immediately maps out measures to the feast of public funds! Let us beware of such candidate, such kind of public servant, in the same way that one avoids a plague! Voting for him is simply calamitous for beneath that benign and smiling face is a scheming mind bent on devious ways to enrich himself in office. An octopus in human form has tentacles reach deep into the farthest and tiniest crevices where the last centavo may be heard to tingle, for there is nothing to satiate his avarice, there is nothing to satisfy his inordinate greed. It is time too, to realize that the hoary arms of this monster, fondling an armalite, cast a shadow over our lives, our present and our future and those of our successors. It is time, therefore, that this candidate who begs for our votes should stand an accounting for his omissions, his dubious accomplishments or the manner by which he conducted himself while in office or in committing his crimes. Unhappily, the measure of a public official should be one at par with Caesars wife above suspicion. I say, unhappily because Mr. X could hardly measure up to pur barest expectations. In fact, if he has any decency left in him, he should never have shown his face in public for the shame and the ignominy he had placed on his name, and the ill-repute to which his town had been made to bear, all because of a single scoundrel. For once, let us vote for integrity in office, for performance and deportment beyond reproach, for the honor of this town we all love. For once let us join hands to vote for Mr. Y, and thus let prosperity be with us once more. And in one decisive stroke of rallying behind his leadership, let the time-bomb of disaster be dismantled, with law and order, peace and progress restored under a benevolent God, supreme once more over our land and fortunes!

The Defense of Brutus Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe: censure me to your wisdom, and wake your senses, that you mat the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesars, to him I say that Brutus love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I

love Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen?

As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak: for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak: for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak: for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

Tribute by Anthony Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious, If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answerd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable men Come I to speak in Caesars funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar; And I must pause till it come back to me.

Because Of What We Are, Of What We Believe For every generation, there is a destiny. For some, history decides. For this generation, the choice must be our own. Our destiny in the midst of change will rest on the changed character of our people and on their faith. In a land of great wealth, families must not live in hopeless poverty. In a land rich in harvest, children must not be hungry. In a land of healing miracles, neighbors must not suffer and die untended. In a great land of learning and scholars, young people must be taught to read and write. How incredible it is that in this fragile existence, we should hate and destroy one another. There are possibilities enough for all who will abandon mastery; others to pursue mastery over nature. There is world enough for all to seek their happiness in their own way.

We have discovered that every child who learns, and every man who finds work, and every sick body that is made whole like a candle added to an altar brightens the hope of all the faithful. So let us reject any among us, who seek to reopen old wounds, and rekindle old hatreds. They stand in the way of a seeking nation. Let us join reason to faith and action to experience, to transform our unity of interest into a unity of purpose. To achieve change without hatred; not without difference of opinion but without the deep and abiding divisions which scar the union for generations. Under the covenant of justice, liberty and union, we have become a nation. And we have kept our freedom. It is the excitement of becoming always becoming, trying, probing, resting, and trying again but always gaining. If we fail now, then we will have forgotten in abundance what we learned in hardship; that democracy rests on faith, that freedom asks more that it gives. If we succeeded, it will not be because of what we have, but it will be because of what we are; not because of what we own, but rather because of what we believe. For we are a nation of believers. Underneath the clamor of buildings and the rush of our days pursuits, we are the believers in justice and liberty and union. And in our own union we believe that every man must some day be free. And we believe in ourselves. For this is what our country is all about. It is the uncrossed desert and the unclimbed bridge. It is the star that is not reached and the harvest that is sleeping in the unplowed ground. Is our world gone? We say farewell, is a new world coming? We welcome it and we will bend it to the hopes of man. But you must look within your own hearts to the old promises and to the old dreams. They will lead you the best of all.

Hold Your Tongue Some people say that their heads are right on top of their stomachs and when anything goes wrong with their stomachs they cannot sleep. An

equally serious condition is one in which words are always on the tips of peoples tongue, so that reason never intervenes to stop their utterances. This advice was once given to those whose speech is an intemperate; Think before you speak; then talk to yourself, ruling of the most difficult of all tasks. For that reason, the ancient Persians taught their youths two things: to be secret, and to tell the truth. Those who abuse speech are divided into three general classes: The first are those who are always putting people in their place as if they were ordained by God and the Constitution to tell off everybody for what they call their own good. The second class is those who detract from the merit of others by criticizing, finding fault or putting an evil interpretation on all they say or do. They go to an art museum and criticize every picture for not being hung properly, but they never see that the pictures in their own homes are all upside down. A critical spirit is born of wrong behavior. There is not a critical person in the world that is not in need of criticism. Criticism of others is an escape from necessary self-criticism. The third is made up of just plain liars. Conscious of their own littleness and insignificance or by creating a mythical world, which is built according to their own specifications. Socrates said: Speak that I may see thee. Speech is the index of the mind, and the summation of a soul, all that the person has been, is, and will be. We can say: He is an ignorant man, He is a proud man, He is a kind man, He is a cruel man. The whirlwind on the tongue is the sign of the tempest in the soul. If there is envy in the heart, it will show in the tone of the voice; if there is love in the heart even the words share the glow. But a skunk in the cellar soon smells up the whole house. It is a physical and a psychological impossibility to develop the art of a good and humble heart out of which comes out words. The power of edifying speech increases with the improvement in morals. Many of the suggestions are in reality nothing else than the art of deceit and amount to How to disguise you feeling, How to praise when you want to damn, How to compliment when you want to condemn, How to influence people when you hate them.

Believe You Can Succeed And You Will Success means many wonderful, positive things. Success means personal prosperity: a fine home, vacations, travel, new things, financial security,

giving your children maximum advantages, etc Success means winning admiration,leadership, being looked up to by people in your business and social life. Success means freedom: freedom from worries, fears, frustrations, and failure. Success means self-respect, continually finding more real happiness and satisfaction from life, being able to do more for those who depend on you. Success means winning! Success-achievement is the goal of life! Every human being wants success. Everybody wants the best this life can deliver. Nobody enjoys crawling, living in mediocrity. No one likes feeling second-class and feeling forced to go that way. Some of the most practical success-building wisdom is found in that Biblical quotation stating that faith can move mountains. Believe, really believe, that you can move a mountain and you can! Not many people believe that they can move mountains. So, as a result, not many people do. On some occasion youve probably heard some say something like, its nonsense to think you can make a mountain, move away. Its simply impossible. People who think this way have belief confused with wishful thinking. And true enough, you cant wish away a mountain. You cant wish yourself into an executive suite. Nor can you wish yourself into a five-bedroom, threebath house or the high-income brackets. You cant wish yourself into a position of leadership. But you can move a mountain with belief. You can win success by believing you can succeed. There is nothing neither magical nor mystical about the power of belief. Belief works this way. Belief, the Im positive-I-can attitude, generates the power, skill, and energy needed to do. When you believe I-can-do-it, the how-to-do-it develops. Everyday all over the world, young people start working in new jobs. Each of them wishes that someday he could enjoy the success that goes by reaching the top. But the majority of these young people simply dont have the belief that it takes the top rungs. And they dont reach the top. Believing its impossible to climb high, they do not discover the steps that lead to great heights. Their behavior remains that of the average person. But a small number of these young people really believe they will succeed. They approach their work with the Im going-to-the-top

attitude. And with substantial belief they reach the top. Believing they will succeed and that its not impossible these folks study and observe the behavior of senior executives. They learn how successful people approach problems and make decisions. They observe the attitudes of successful people. Those who believe they can move mountains, do. Those who believe that they cant, cannot. Belief triggers the power to do. Belief in great results is the driving force, the power behind all great books, plays, scientific discoveries. Belief in success is behind every successful business, church, and political organization. Belief in success is the one basic, absolutely essential ingredient in successful people. Believe, really believe, you can succeed and you will!

I will Persist Until I Succeed I was not delivered unto this World in defeat, nor does failure course in my veins. I will hear not those who weep and complain, for their disease is contagious. The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. The prizes of life are at the end of each journey, not near the beginning; and it is not given to me to know how many steps are necessary in order to reach my goal. Failure I may still encounter at the thousandth step, yet success hides behind the next bend in the road. Never will I know how close it lies unless I turn the corner. I will be likened to the rain drop which washes away the mountain, the ant that devours a tiger, the star which brightens the earth, and the slave who builds a pyramid. I will build my castle one brick at a time for I know that small attempts, repeated, will complete any undertaking. I will persist until I succeed. I will never consider defeat and I will remove from my vocabulary such words and phrases as quit, cannot, unable, impossible, out of the question, improbable, failure, unworkable, hopeless, and retreat. I will avoid despair but if this diseaseof the mind should infect me then I will work on in despair. I will toil and I will endure. I will remember the ancient law of averages and I will bend it to my good. Each frown I meet only prepares me for the smile to come. Each misfortune I encounter I will carry in it the seed of tomorrows good luck. I must have the night to appreciate the day. I must fail often to succeed only once. I will persist until I succeed.

Never will I allow any day to end with a failure. Thus I will plant the seed of tomorrows success and gain an insurmountable advance over those who cease their labor at a prescribed time. When others cease their struggle, then mine will begin, and my harvest will be full. Nor will I allow yesterdays success to lull me into todays complacency, for this is the greatest foundation of failure. I will forget the happenings of the day that is gone, whether they were good or bad, and greet the new sun with confidence that this will be the best day of my life. So long as there is breath in me, that long will I persist? For I know one of the greatest principles of success if I persist long enough, I will win. I will persist! I will win!