That kind of
thing, I think, is empty and hollow, and an audience soon finds
it out.
I believe that one always does himself and his audience an
injustice when he speaks merely for the sake of speaking. I do
not believe that one should speak unless, deep down in his heart,
he feels convinced that he has a message to deliver. When one
feels, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head, that
he has something to say that is going to help some individual or
some cause, then let him say it; and in delivering his message I
do not believe that many of the artificial rules of elocution
can, under such circumstances, help him very much. Although there
are certain things, such as pauses, breathing, and pitch of
voice, that are very important, none of these can take the place
of soul in an address. When I have an address to deliver, I like
to forget all about the rules for the proper use of the English
language, and all about rhetoric and that sort of thing, and I
like to make the audience forget all about these things, too.
Nothing tends to throw me off my balance so quickly, when I am
speaking, as to have some one leave the room. To prevent this, I
make up my mind, as a rule, that I will try to make my address so
interesting, will try to state so many interesting facts one
after another, that no one can leave.
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