The greatness of a speech is not in the ears of those who are present to hear it.  There were many gathered in Gettysburg who were disappointed at the president's brief remarks.  There were even more gathered in Nuremberg who rose to ecstasy on wings of hate provided by a madman.  A great speech isn't measured in the applause it brings, or in the approving comments in the next day's papers.

It's in the echoes.  It's in the way the words move down the corridor of years, painting events that come after, living in the minds of those who were not even alive when the words were uttered.

For those of us who lived through "I have a dream" or "ask not," those few words are enough to bring back a scene, a time, and heart-wrenching emotions.  For a generation before, "but fear itself" must have brought much the same reaction.  Before that, there was a "cross of gold," and before that "the better angels of our nature."

And before that, was a speech delivered by a young man of 28, a man just entering public life.  You may never have heard this speech, but it's words not only echo in our modern world, they resonate.