标题为 where do we go from here（我们将去向何方）
最好是写一些对未来的展望（现在是大学生）
PS:千万别把马丁路德金的那篇弄过来。。。 就是看了这篇才让我们写作文的%>_<%
第1个回答 2013-10-20
manacles of segregatiaswetyujon and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years
laterhjkddfyug, the Negro lives oserdtfyjkln a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast
ocean of materidtfyguihotal prosperityesrdtfyghjik. Onrehtgje hundreddfbghj,
a sense we've come to our nation's capital tkugjo cash a check. When the architects
of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the
Declafdtgyhjkration of Independence, they were signingftygjhkerty 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 fdsmbj,色如同地狱更换即可guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life,
Liberty dghjand the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has
defaulted on this promissory note, incdvfcvmsofar as her citizens of color are
concerned. Instead of kghjbhonoring thisbnmsd sacred obligation, America has given the
Negro peoplefgh 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 believedfxghjkdft thatesrdytfghguhjk there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of
opportunity of this nation. Artdyuhplnd so, we've 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 lift our
nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid本回答被提问者采纳
laterhjkddfyug, the Negro lives oserdtfyjkln a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast
ocean of materidtfyguihotal prosperityesrdtfyghjik. Onrehtgje hundreddfbghj,
a sense we've come to our nation's capital tkugjo cash a check. When the architects
of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the
Declafdtgyhjkration of Independence, they were signingftygjhkerty 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 fdsmbj,色如同地狱更换即可guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life,
Liberty dghjand the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has
defaulted on this promissory note, incdvfcvmsofar as her citizens of color are
concerned. Instead of kghjbhonoring thisbnmsd sacred obligation, America has given the
Negro peoplefgh 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 believedfxghjkdft thatesrdytfghguhjk there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of
opportunity of this nation. Artdyuhplnd so, we've 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 lift our
nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid本回答被提问者采纳
第2个回答 2013-10-20
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, the Negro still is 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
languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his
own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In
a sense we've 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 "unalienable 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. And so, we've 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 lift our
nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would
be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. 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. And 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. And 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 a 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 they have
come to realize that 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 the victim of the unspeakable horrors of
police brutality. 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 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 jail cells. And some of you have come from areas
where your quest -- 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
South Carolina, 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.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and
tomorrow, 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 the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that
one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of
injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an
oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little 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 its vicious racists, with its
governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and
"nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black
girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as
sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day
every valley shall be exalted, and 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, and 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.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day
when all of God's children will be able to sing with 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.
And 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 snow-capped 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 allow 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!
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, the Negro still is 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
languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his
own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In
a sense we've 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 "unalienable 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. And so, we've 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 lift our
nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would
be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. 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. And 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. And 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 a 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 they have
come to realize that 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 the victim of the unspeakable horrors of
police brutality. 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 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 jail cells. And some of you have come from areas
where your quest -- 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
South Carolina, 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.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and
tomorrow, 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 the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that
one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of
injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an
oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little 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 its vicious racists, with its
governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and
"nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black
girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as
sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day
every valley shall be exalted, and 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, and 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.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day
when all of God's children will be able to sing with 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.
And 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 snow-capped 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 allow 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!
