I've never actually read the whole speech. I was just reading a story about
the speech and about how the first part was a lot more militant than people
remember, and it i true. It is a very powerful speech, and I really appreciate
your posting it so I could read it at last in its entirety.

I'm glad you found it valuable. NPR plays it from time to time and it just
seemed to me that a great many people have never actually read or heard the
speach in its fully glory.

Hearing Dr. King acknowledge the anger of the time, but still call for peace --
this was a strong warning to the politics and to the center of this country
that it was time for real change.

I think the work of the civil rights movement has been wonderfully successfull
and we have all benefited from that work, but it must continue. The fight now
is about equal dollars to match those equal freedoms. Adaquate education,
healthcare, and opportunity are the cornerstones of the next steps.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
in response to
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


On August 28, 1963 Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his now famous "I have
a dream" speech on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. On the
40th anniversary of this speech, instead of just hearing about it, please take
just a few minutes to read it. In your mind, imagine the powerful southern
voice of his delivering the speech. In your mind imagine the atmosphere of
battle into which it was delivered. Dr. King's work and words are every bit as
powerful today as they were forty years ago. The problems of today are less
literally 'freedom' and less specifically relevant only to brown skinned
Americans, but are still very much reflective of the broader sense of the lack
of freedoms and avenues to escape the endless cycles of poverty, violence, and
destruction that result from the separations in our society -- be they based on
color, creed, sex, or religion. Souce: Martin Luther King, Jr: The Peaceful
Warrior, Pocket Books, NY 1968
by way of National Civil Rights Museum, http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org/ "I
Have A Dream"
by Martin Luther King, Jr, 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
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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 the state of Alabama, whose
governor's 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 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 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 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!"

: Every time I hear that speech it brings tears to my eyes - even if I'm not
american, and wasn't born when dr. Kind delivered it. It remains one of the
most powerful speeches I've ever heard.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
in response to
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


On August 28, 1963 Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his now famous "I have
a dream" speech on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. On the
40th anniversary of this speech, instead of just hearing about it, please take
just a few minutes to read it. In your mind, imagine the powerful southern
voice of his delivering the speech. In your mind imagine the atmosphere of
battle into which it was delivered. Dr. King's work and words are every bit as
powerful today as they were forty years ago. The problems of today are less
literally 'freedom' and less specifically relevant only to brown skinned
Americans, but are still very much reflective of the broader sense of the lack
of freedoms and avenues to escape the endless cycles of poverty, violence, and
destruction that result from the separations in our society -- be they based on
color, creed, sex, or religion. Souce: Martin Luther King, Jr: The Peaceful
Warrior, Pocket Books, NY 1968
by way of National Civil Rights Museum, http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org/ "I
Have A Dream"
by Martin Luther King, Jr, 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
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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 the state of Alabama, whose
governor's 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 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 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 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!"

Thanks for posting this.