[00:02.03]049. Man Will Prevail [00:13.50]I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work - [00:18.10]a life’s work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, [00:25.99]but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. [00:32.89]So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be diffcult to find a dedication for the money part of it [00:40.55]commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. [00:45.25]But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, [00:48.60]by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men [00:53.61]and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, [00:58.22]among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing. [01:04.90]Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. [01:14.22]There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: [01:19.05]When will I be blown up? Because of this, [01:23.19]the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself [01:30.24]which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. [01:38.10]He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; [01:46.77]and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, [01:51.10]leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, [01:57.77]the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed - [02:04.38]love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. [02:14.22]He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories whthout hope and, [02:23.56]worst of all, without pity or compassion. [02:28.05]His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands. [02:38.20]Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. [02:45.20]I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: [02:53.34]that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, [03:03.70]that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. [03:13.69]I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, [03:22.68]not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, [03:29.13]a spirit capable of compassion and sacrfice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s duty is to write about these things. [03:41.01]It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, [03:45.17]by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice [03:53.62]which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, [04:01.19]it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

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