The Final Conquest Of Poverty Is Within

To Hunger For Use And To Go Unused Is The Worst Hunger Of All.

Every Old Man Complains Of The Growing Depravity Of The World, Of The Petulance And Insolence Of The Rising Generation. He Recounts The Decency And Regularity Of Former Times, And Celebrates The Discipline And Sobriety Of The Age In Which His Youth Was Passed; A Happy Age Which Is Now No More To Be Expected, Since Confusion Has Broken In Upon The World, And Thrown Down All The Boundaries Of Civility And Reverence.

I Believe, With Abiding Conviction, That This People-nurtured By Their Deep Faith, Tutored By Their Hard Lessons, Moved By Their High Aspirations-have The Will To Meet The Trials That These Times Impose.

The American Indian, Once Proud And Free, Is Torn Now Between White And Tribal Values; Between The Politics And Language Of The White Man And His Own Historic Culture. His Problems, Sharpened By Years Of Defeat And Exploitation, Neglect And Inadequate Effort, Will Take Many Years To Overcome.

Every Man Has A Right To A Saturday Night Bath.