[SIZE=-1]                 [SIZE=+2]"I have a Dream" 
by Martin Luther King Jr 
[Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial
in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963] 
Source: Martin Luther King, Jr: The Peaceful Warrior. Pocket Books: NY 1968  [/SIZE]        
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the 
greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. 
        Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we 
stand today, 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 their 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 the shameful 
condition. 
        In a sense we have come to our nation's 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, yes black men as well as white 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.  A 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 make real the promises of democracy.
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 God's children. 
Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands 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 Negro's 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 always 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 the Negro is suffering the unspeakable horrors.  
We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies are 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 Negro's 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, so even though we face the
difficulties of today and tomorrow, that in spite of the, 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 slaveowners 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 down in Alabama with it's viscious racists,
 with it's governor having his lips 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 that I go back to the South with.  
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 God's 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 
pilgrim's 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 slopes 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 molehill of Mississippi. 
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.  And when this happens, 
        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 God's 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!"   
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