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The Audacity of Hope

The junior senator from Illinois discusses how to transform U.S. politics, calling for a return to America's original ideals and revealing how they can address such issues as globalization and the function of religion in public life. Specifications Number of Pages: 375 Genre: Freedom + Security / Law Enforcement, Biography + Autobiography, Social Science Sub-Genre: Presidents + Heads of State Author: Barack Obama Age Range: Adult Language: English Street Date: November 6, 2007 Origin: Made in the USA or Imported

The junior senator from Illinois discusses how to transform U.S. politics, calling for a return to America's original ideals and revealing how they can address such issues as globalization and the function of religion in public life.
Specifications
Number of Pages: 375
Genre: Freedom + Security / Law Enforcement, Biography + Autobiography, Social Science
Sub-Genre: Presidents + Heads of State

Author: Barack Obama
Age Range: Adult
Language: English
Street Date: November 6, 2007

Origin: Made in the USA or Imported

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That’s what satisfies me now, I think—being useful to my family and the people who

elected me, leaving behind a legacy that will make our children’s lives more hopeful

than our own. Sometimes, working in Washington, I feel I am meeting that goal. At

other times, it seems as if the goal recedes from me, and all the activity I engage in—the

hearings and speeches and press conferences and position papers—are an exercise in

vanity, useful to no one.

When I find myself in such moods, I like to take a run along the Mall. Usually I go in

the early evening, especially in the summer and fall, when the air in Washington is

warm and still and the leaves on the trees barely rustle. After dark, not many people are

out—perhaps a few couples taking a walk, or homeless men on benches, organizing

their possessions. Most of the time I stop at the Washington Monument, but sometimes

I push on, across the street to the National World War II Memorial, then along the

Reflecting Pool to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, then up the stairs of the Lincoln

Memorial.

At night, the great shrine is lit but often empty. Standing between marble columns, I

read the Gettysburg Address and the Second Inaugural Address. I look out over the

Reflecting Pool, imagining the crowd stilled by Dr. King’s mighty cadence, and then

beyond that, to the floodlit obelisk and shining Capitol dome.

And in that place, I think about America and those who built it. This nation’s founders,

who somehow rose above petty ambitions and narrow calculations to imagine a nation

unfurling across a continent. And those like Lincoln and King, who ultimately laid

down their lives in the service of perfecting an imperfect union. And all the faceless,

nameless men and women, slaves and soldiers and tailors and butchers, constructing

lives for themselves and their children and grandchildren, brick by brick, rail by rail,

calloused hand by calloused hand, to fill in the landscape of our collective dreams.

It is that process I wish to be a part of.

My heart is filled with love for this country.

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