I am weary of weeping. I am tired of weeping for young men and women cut down before they have fulfilled their life's promise.
In World War II, I wept for brothers and classmates and neighbors. In Korea, I wept for nephews and the husbands and sweethearts of younger women. In Vietnam I wept for the contemporaries of my son.
Between wars I have wept for the civil rights workers who laid their lives on the line for their ideals and were trampled and reviled by the ignorant dupes of the demagogues. I have wept for the Kennedys and for the Kings and for the fear and hate and ignorance that brought them down.
Today, I weep for the world's leaders and followers who will not acknowledge that peace and goodwill are superior to war and violence.
I am growing old and weary of weeping.