Ladies and gentlemen,
2 I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work - a life's work in the agony
3 and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the
4 materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in
5 trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the
6 purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by
7 using this fine moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and
8 young women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that
9 one who will some day stand here where I am standing.
10
11 Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can
12 even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I
13 be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the
14 problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because
15 only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.
16
17 He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid;
18 and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the
19 old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral
20 and doomed - love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does
21 so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses
22 anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His
23 griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the
24 glands.
25
26 Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of
27 man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply
28 because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the
29 last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will
30 still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.
31 I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal,
32 not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul,
33 a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to
34 write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding
35 him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which
36 have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can
37 be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
What is the rhetorical purpose of the fifth sentence of the fifth paragraph?
A. To indicate the lack of hope for the future
B. To create a negative view of the past
C. To undermine the current focus of the poet or writer
D. To reflect the positive accomplishments of humankind
E. To develop a rational argument for the role of the poet or writer