Self-Improvement Through Public Speaking

It does not matter whether you want to be a public speaker or not, everybody should have such complete control of himself, should be so self-centered and self-posed that he can get up in any audience, no matter how large or formidable, and express his thoughts clearly and distinctly.

Whether or not you want to be a public speaker, everyone should have complete self-control and composure. Everyone should be able to stand before any audience, no matter how large or intimidating, and express their thoughts clearly and distinctly.

Self-expression in some manner is the only means of developing mental power. It may be in music; it may be on canvas: it may be through oratory; it may come through selling goods or writing a book; but it must come through self-expression.

Expressing yourself in some way is the only way to develop mental power. You may express yourself through music, painting, or public speaking. You may do it by selling goods or writing a book. But you must express yourself.

Self-expression in any legitimate form tends to call out what is in a man, his resourcefulness, inventiveness; but no other form of self-expression develops a man so thoroughly and so effectively, and so quickly unfolds all of his powers, as expression before an audience.

Any legitimate form of self-expression tends to bring out a man's resourcefulness and inventiveness. But no other form develops a man as thoroughly or effectively, or brings out all his powers as quickly, as speaking before an audience.

It is doubtful whether anyone can reach the highest standard of culture without studying the art of expression, especially public vocal expression. In all ages oratory has been regarded as the highest expression of human achievement. Young people, no matter what they intend to be, whether blacksmith or farmer, merchant or physician, should make it a study.

It is doubtful that anyone can reach the highest level of culture without studying the art of expression, especially public speaking. Throughout history, oratory has been regarded as the highest expression of human achievement. All young people should study it, whatever they plan to become. This includes blacksmiths, farmers, merchants, and physicians.

Nothing else will call out what is in a man so quickly and so effectively as the constant effort to do his best in speaking before an audience. When one undertakes to think on his feet and speak extemporaneously before the public, the power and the skill of the entire man are put to a severe test.

Nothing brings out a man’s abilities as quickly or effectively as constantly trying to do his best when speaking before an audience. When a man tries to think on his feet and speak in public without preparation, all his powers and skills are put to a severe test.

The writer has the advantage of being able to wait for his moods. He can write when he feels like it; and he knows that he can burn his manuscript again and again if it does not suit him. There are not a thousand eyes upon him. He does not have a great audience criticizing every sentence, weighing every thought. He does not have to step upon the scales of every listener's judgment to be weighed, as does the orator. A man may write as listlessly as he pleases, use much or little of his brain or energy, just as he chooses or feels like doing. No one is watching him. His pride and vanity are not touched, and what he writes may never be seen by anyone. Then, there is always a chance for revision. In conversation, we do not feel that so much depends upon our words; only a few persons hear them, and perhaps no one will ever think of them again. In music, whether vocal or instrumental, what one gives out is only partially one's own; the rest is the composer's.

A writer has the advantage of being able to wait for the right mood. He can write when he feels like it. He knows he can burn his manuscript again and again if it does not satisfy him. A thousand eyes are not on him. He does not have a large audience criticizing every sentence and weighing every thought. Unlike a public speaker, he does not have to stand before each listener and be judged. A man can write as listlessly as he pleases. He can use as much or as little of his brain or energy as he chooses or feels like using. No one is watching him. His pride and vanity are not affected, and no one may ever see what he writes. He also always has a chance to revise it. In conversation, we do not feel that so much depends on our words. Only a few people hear them, and perhaps no one will ever think of them again. In music, whether singing or playing an instrument, a person's performance is only partly his own. The rest belongs to the composer.

Yet anyone who lays any claim to culture, should train himself to think on his feet, so that he can at a moment's notice rise and express himself intelligently. The occasions for little speaking are increasing enormously. A great many questions which used to be settled in the office are now discussed and settled at dinners. All sorts of business deals are now carried through at dinners. There was never before any such demand for dinner oratory as to-day.

Yet anyone who claims to be cultured should learn to think on their feet. They should be able to stand up and speak intelligently at a moment's notice. Opportunities to give short speeches are increasing enormously. Many questions once settled in the office are now discussed and settled at dinners. All kinds of business deals are now completed at dinners. There has never been such a demand for dinner speeches as there is today.

We know men who have, by the dint of hard work and persistent grit, lifted themselves into positions of prominence, and yet they are not able to stand on their feet in public, even to make a few remarks, or scarcely to put a motion without trembling like an aspen leaf. They had plenty of opportunities when they were young, at school, in debating clubs to get rid of their self-consciousness and to acquire ease and facility in public speaking, but they always shrank from every opportunity, because they were timid, or felt that somebody else could handle the debate or questions better.

We know men who have risen to prominent positions through hard work and determination. Yet they cannot stand up in public, even to make a few remarks, without trembling like a leaf. They can hardly even make a motion. When they were young, they had plenty of opportunities at school and in debating clubs. They could have overcome their self-consciousness and learned to speak in public with ease and skill. But they always avoided those opportunities because they were timid or felt someone else could handle the debate or questions better.

There are plenty of business men to-day who would give a great deal of money if they could only go back and improve the early opportunities for learning to think and speak on their feet which they threw away. Now they have money, they have position, but they are nobodies when called upon to speak in public. All they can do is to look foolish, blush, stammer out an apology and sit down.

Plenty of businessmen today would pay a lot to go back and use the early opportunities they wasted. They could have learned to think and speak on their feet. Now they have money and status, but they are nobodies when asked to speak in public. All they can do is look foolish, blush, stammer out an apology, and sit down.

Some time ago I was at a public meeting when a man who stands very high in the community, who is king in his specialty, was called upon to give his opinion upon the matter under consideration, and he got up and trembled and stammered and could scarcely say his soul was his own. He could not even make a decent appearance. He had power and a great deal of experience, but there he stood, as helpless as a child, and he felt cheap, mortified, embarrassed, and probably would have given anything if he had early in life trained himself to get himself in hand so that he could think on his feet and say with power and effectiveness that which he knew.

Some time ago, I attended a public meeting where a highly respected man was asked for his opinion on the matter under discussion. He was a leader in his field. But when he stood up, he trembled and stammered and could scarcely get a word out. He could not even make a decent showing. He had ability and a great deal of experience, but there he stood, as helpless as a child. He felt small, humiliated, and embarrassed. He probably would have given anything if he had learned early in life to master himself. Then he could have thought on his feet and expressed what he knew powerfully and effectively.

At the very meeting where this strong man who had the respect and confidence of everybody who knew him, and who made such a miserable failure of his attempt to give his opinion upon an important public matter on which he was well posted, being so confused and self-conscious and "stage struck" that he could say scarcely anything, a shallow-brained business man, in the same city, who hadn't a hundredth part of the other man's practical power in affairs, got up and made a brilliant speech, and strangers no doubt thought that he was much the stronger man. He had simply cultivated the ability to say his best thing on his feet, and the other man had not, and was placed at a tremendous disadvantage.

A strong man once tried to give his opinion at a meeting on an important public matter he knew well. Everyone who knew him respected and trusted him, but his attempt was a miserable failure. He was so confused, self-conscious, and "stage struck" that he could barely say anything. At the same meeting, a shallow-minded businessman from the same city got up and made a brilliant speech. He did not have a hundredth of the other man's practical ability in business and public affairs. Yet strangers no doubt thought he was the stronger man. The businessman had simply learned to express his best ideas while speaking on his feet. The other man had not, and this put him at a tremendous disadvantage.

A very brilliant young man in New York who has climbed to a responsible position in a very short time, tells me that he has been surprised on several occasions when he has been called upon to speak at banquets, or on other public occasions, at the new discoveries he has made of himself of power which he never before dreamed he possessed, and he now regrets more than anything else that he has allowed so many opportunities for calling himself out to go by in the past.

A brilliant young man in New York has risen to a position of responsibility in a very short time. He tells me that he has been surprised by what he has discovered about himself on several occasions. When asked to speak at banquets or other public events, he found abilities he had never dreamed he possessed. Now, more than anything else, he regrets letting so many opportunities to bring out his abilities pass him by.

The effort to express one's ideas in lucid, clean-cut, concise, telling English tends to make one's everyday language choicer and more direct, and improves one's diction generally. In this and other ways speech-making develops mental power and character. This explains the rapidity with which a young man develops in school or college when he begins to take part in public debates or in debating societies.

Trying to express your ideas in clear, concise, and effective English improves your everyday speech. It makes your language more precise and direct and improves your choice of words generally. In these and other ways, public speaking develops mental power and character. This explains why a young man develops rapidly in school or college when he begins to take part in public debates or debating societies.

Every man, says Lord Chesterfield, may choose good words instead of bad ones and speak properly instead of improperly; he may have grace in his motions and gestures, and may be a very agreeable instead of disagreeable speaker if he will take care and pains.

Lord Chesterfield says that every man can choose good words instead of bad ones and speak properly instead of improperly. He can move and gesture gracefully. He can also be a pleasant rather than an unpleasant speaker, if he takes care and makes the effort.

It is a matter of painstaking and preparation. There is everything in learning what you wish to know. Your vocal culture, manner, and mental furnishing, are to be made a matter for thought and careful training. Nothing will tire an audience more quickly than monotony, everything expressed on the same dead level. There must be variety; the human mind tires very quickly without it.

It takes careful effort and preparation. Learning what you want to know makes all the difference. Give careful thought and training to your voice, manner, and knowledge. Nothing tires an audience faster than monotony, with everything expressed in the same dull way. There must be variety. The human mind tires very quickly without it.

This is especially true of a monotonous tone. It is a great art to be able to raise and lower the voice with sweet flowing cadences which please the ear.

This is especially true of a monotonous tone. It is a great skill to raise and lower your voice in sweet, flowing rhythms that please the ear.

Gladstone said, "Ninety-nine men in every hundred never rise above mediocrity because the training of the voice is entirely neglected and considered of no importance."

Gladstone said, "Ninety-nine out of every hundred men never rise above mediocrity because voice training is completely neglected and considered unimportant."

It was indeed said of a certain Duke of Devonshire that he was the only English statesman who ever took a nap during the progress of his own speech. He was a perfect genius for dry uninteresting oratory, moving forward with a monotonous droning, and pausing now and then as if refreshing himself by slumber.

Indeed, it was said that a certain Duke of Devonshire was the only English statesman who ever napped during his own speech. He had a real genius for dry, boring speeches. He would drone on in a monotone, pausing now and then as if to refresh himself with sleep.

In thinking on one's feet before an audience, one must think quickly, vigorously, effectively. At the same time he must speak effectively through a properly modulated voice, with proper facial and bodily expression and gesture. This requires practise in early life.

When thinking on your feet before an audience, you must think quickly, vigorously, and effectively. At the same time, you must speak effectively, varying your voice and using appropriate facial expressions, body movements, and gestures. This requires practice early in life.

In youth the would-be orator must cultivate robust health, since force, enthusiasm, conviction, will-power are greatly affected by physical condition. One, too, must cultivate bodily posture, and have good habits at easy command. What would have been the result of Webster's reply to Hayne, the greatest oratorical effort ever made on this continent, if he had sat down in the Senate and put his feet on his desk? Think of a great singer like Nordica attempting to electrify an audience while lounging on a sofa or sitting in a slouchy position.

In youth, anyone hoping to become an orator must develop robust health. Physical condition greatly affects force, enthusiasm, conviction, and willpower. A person must also develop good posture and make good habits second nature. Webster's reply to Hayne was the greatest speech ever delivered on this continent. What effect would it have had if he had sat down in the Senate and put his feet on his desk? Imagine a great singer like Nordica trying to electrify an audience while lounging on a sofa or sitting slouched.

An early training for effective speaking will make one careful to secure a good vocabulary by good reading and a dictionary. One must know words.

Early training in effective speaking will encourage you to build a strong vocabulary through good reading and using a dictionary. You must know words.

There is no class of people put to such a severe test of showing what is in them as public speakers; no other men who run such a risk of exposing their weak spots, or making fools of themselves in the estimation of others, as do orators. Public speaking—thinking on one's feet—is a powerful educator except to the thick-skinned man, the man who has no sensitiveness, or who does not care for what others think of him. Nothing else so thoroughly discloses a man's weaknesses or shows up his limitations of thought, his poverty of speech, his narrow vocabulary. Nothing else is such a touchstone of the character and the extent of one's reading, the carefulness or carelessness of his observation.

No group faces a harder test of what they are made of than public speakers. No other men risk exposing their weaknesses or making fools of themselves in others’ eyes as much as speakers do. Public speaking requires thinking on your feet. It is a powerful education, except for a thick-skinned man who lacks sensitivity or does not care what others think of him. Nothing else so thoroughly reveals a man’s weaknesses, his limited thinking, his difficulty expressing himself, or his narrow vocabulary. Nothing else tests so well what he has read and how much, or how carefully he observes the world.

Close, compact statement must be had. Learn to stop when you get through. Do not keep stringing out conversation or argument after you have made your point. You only weaken your case and prejudice people against you for your lack of tact, good judgment, or sense of proportion. Do not neutralize all the good impression you have made by talking on and on long after you have made your point.

Be concise. Learn to stop when you are finished. Do not keep a conversation or argument going after you have made your point. You only weaken your case and turn people against you by showing a lack of tact, judgment, or perspective. Do not undo all the good impression you have made by talking long after you have made your point.

The attempt to become a good public speaker is a great awakener of all the mental faculties. The sense of power that comes from holding attention, stirring the emotions or convincing the reason of an audience, gives self-confidence, assurance, self-reliance, arouses ambition, and tends to make one more effective in every particular. One's manhood, character, learning, judgment of his opinions—all things that go to make him what he is—are being unrolled like a panorama. Every mental faculty is quickened, every power of thought and expression spurred. Thoughts rush for utterance, words press for choice. The speaker summons all his reserves of education, of experience, of natural or acquired ability, and masses all his forces in the endeavor to capture the approval and applause of the audience.

Trying to become a good public speaker awakens all the powers of the mind. A speaker feels powerful when holding an audience’s attention, stirring its emotions, or convincing it through reason. That feeling builds confidence, assurance, and self-reliance. It awakens ambition and tends to make a person more effective in every way. A speaker’s manhood, character, learning, and judgment of his own opinions all unfold like a panorama. So does everything else that makes him who he is. Every mental faculty is awakened, and every power of thought and expression is spurred on. Thoughts rush to be spoken, and words press to be chosen. The speaker calls on all his education, experience, and natural or acquired ability. He brings all his strengths together in an effort to win the audience’s approval and applause.

Such an effort takes hold of the entire nature, beads the brow, fires the eye, flushes the cheek, and sends the blood surging through the veins. Dormant impulses are stirred, half-forgotten memories revived, the imagination quickened to see figures and similes that would never come to calm thought.

Such an effort engages the whole person. It brings sweat to the brow, fire to the eyes, color to the cheeks, and sends blood surging through the veins. Sleeping impulses awaken, and half-forgotten memories come back. The imagination comes alive, finding images and comparisons that would never occur to a calm mind.

This forced awakening of the whole personality has effects reaching much further than the oratorical occasion. The effort to marshal all one's reserves in a logical and orderly manner, to bring to the front all the power one possesses, leaves these reserves permanently better in hand, more readily in reach.

This forced awakening of the whole personality has effects far beyond the occasion of giving a speech. The effort to organize all your reserves logically and bring forward all your power has a lasting effect. It leaves those reserves permanently more under your control and easier to draw on.

The Debating Club is the nursery of orators. No matter how far you have to go to attend it, or how much trouble it is, or how difficult it is to get the time, the drill you will get by it is the turning point. Lincoln, Wilson, Webster, Choate, Clay, and Patrick Henry got their training in the old-fashioned Debating Society.

The debating club is a training ground for public speakers. Attending may mean traveling far, making a great effort, or struggling to find the time. But the practice you get there will be a turning point. Lincoln, Wilson, Webster, Choate, Clay, and Patrick Henry all trained in old-fashioned debating societies.

Do not think that because you do not know anything about parliamentary law that you should not accept the presidency of your club or debating society. This is just the place to learn, and when you have accepted the position you can post yourself on the rules, and the chances are that you will never know the rules until you are thrust into the chair where you will be obliged to give rulings. Join just as many young people's organizations—especially self-improvement organizations—as you can, and force yourself to speak every time you get a chance. If the chance does not come to you, make it. Jump to your feet and say something upon every question that is up for discussion. Do not be afraid to rise to put a motion or to second it or give your opinion upon it. Do not wait until you are better prepared. You never will be.

Do not think you should refuse the presidency of your club or debating society because you know nothing about parliamentary rules. This is just the place to learn. Once you accept the position, you can study the rules. Chances are you will never learn them until you are in the chair and have to make rulings. Join as many young people’s organizations as you can, especially those devoted to self-improvement. Force yourself to speak every time you get a chance. If the chance does not come to you, make it. Jump to your feet and say something about every question under discussion. Do not be afraid to stand up to make or second a motion, or to give your opinion on it. Do not wait until you are better prepared. You never will be.

Every time you rise to your feet will increase your confidence, and after awhile you will form the habit of speaking until it will be as easy as anything else, and there is no one thing which will develop young people so rapidly and effectively as the debating clubs and discussions of all sorts. A vast number of our public men have owed their advance more to the old-fashioned debating societies than anything else. Here they learned confidence, self-reliance; they discovered themselves. It was here they learned not to be afraid of themselves, to express their opinions with force and independence. Nothing will call a young man out more than the struggle in a debate to hold his own. It is strong, vigorous exercise for the mind as wrestling is for the body.

Every time you stand up to speak, your confidence will grow. After a while, speaking will become a habit, as easy as anything else. Nothing develops young people as quickly and effectively as debating clubs and discussions of all kinds. Many public figures owe their advancement more to old-fashioned debating societies than to anything else. There they learned confidence and self-reliance and discovered who they were. They learned not to fear themselves and to express their opinions forcefully and independently. Nothing brings a young man out of his shell more than the struggle to hold his own in a debate. Debate is strong, vigorous exercise for the mind, just as wrestling is for the body.

Do not remain way back on the back seat. Go up front. Do not be afraid to show yourself. This shrinking into a corner and getting out of sight and avoiding publicity is fatal to self-confidence.

Do not stay in the back seat. Go up front. Do not be afraid to show yourself. Hiding in a corner, staying out of sight, and avoiding attention will destroy your self-confidence.

It is so easy and seductive, especially for boys and girls in school or college, to shrink from the public debates or speaking, on the ground that they are not quite well enough educated at present. They want to wait until they can use a little better grammar, until they have read more history and more literature, until they have gained a little more culture and ease of manner.

It is so easy and tempting, especially for students in school or college, to avoid public debates or speaking. They tell themselves they are not yet well enough educated. They want to wait until they can use better grammar and have read more history and literature. They want to become a little more cultured and comfortable in their manner.

The way to acquire grace, ease, facility, the way to get poise and balance so that you will not feel disturbed in public gatherings, is to get the experience. Do the thing so many times that it will become second nature to you. If you have an invitation to speak, no matter how much you may shrink from it, or how timid or shy you may be, resolve that you will not let this opportunity for self-enlargement slip by you.

The way to gain grace, ease, skill, and poise is through experience. With practice, you can feel calm and balanced at public gatherings. Do something so often that it becomes second nature. If you are invited to speak, resolve not to let the opportunity for personal growth pass you by. Accept it no matter how much you may dread it or how timid or shy you may be.

We know of a young man who has a great deal of natural ability for public speaking, and yet he is so timid that he always shrinks from accepting invitations to speak at banquets or in public because he is so afraid that he has not had experience enough. He lacks confidence in himself. He is so proud, and so afraid that he will make some slip which will mortify him, that he has waited and waited and waited until now he is discouraged and thinks that he will never be able to do anything in public speaking at all. He would give anything in the world if he had only accepted all of the invitations he has had, because then he would have profited by experience. It would have been a thousand times better for him to have made a mistake, or even to have broken down entirely a few times, than to have missed the scores of opportunities which would undoubtedly have made a strong public speaker of him.

We know a young man with a great natural talent for public speaking. Yet he is so timid that he always turns down invitations to speak at banquets or other public events. He is afraid he does not have enough experience. He lacks confidence in himself. He is also proud and fears making a mistake that would embarrass him. So he has waited and waited and waited. Now he is discouraged and thinks he will never be able to speak in public at all. He would give anything if he had accepted all the invitations he received. Then he would have gained experience. It would have been a thousand times better for him to make mistakes, or even break down completely a few times. Instead, he missed dozens of opportunities that would undoubtedly have made him a strong public speaker.

What is technically called "stage fright" is very common. A college boy recited an address "to the conscript fathers." His professor asked,—"Is that the way Caesar would have spoken it?" "Yes," he replied, "if Caesar had been scared half to death, and as nervous as a cat."

What is called "stage fright" is very common. A college student recited a speech "to the conscript fathers." His professor asked, "Is that how Caesar would have delivered it?" "Yes," he replied, "if Caesar had been scared half to death and as nervous as a cat."

An almost fatal timidity seizes on an inexperienced person, when he knows that all eyes are watching him, that everybody in his audience is trying to measure and weigh him, studying him, scrutinizing him to see how much there is in him; what he stands for, and making up their minds whether he measures more or less than they expected.

An inexperienced person can be overcome by almost crippling fear when they know all eyes are on them. Everyone in the audience is trying to assess them, studying them closely to see what they are made of and what they stand for. Each person is deciding whether the speaker measures up to their expectations.

Some are constitutionally sensitive, and so afraid of being gazed at that they don't dare to open their mouths, even when a question in which they are deeply interested and on which they have strong views is being discussed. At debating clubs, meetings of literary societies, or gatherings of any kind, they sit dumb, longing, yet fearing to speak. The sound of their own voices, if they should get on their feet to make a motion or to speak in a public gathering, would paralyze them. The mere thought of asserting themselves, of putting forward their views or opinions on any subject as being worthy of attention, or as valuable as those of their companions, makes them blush and shrink more into themselves.

Some people are naturally sensitive and so afraid of being watched that they don't dare open their mouths. They remain silent even when people are discussing a question they care deeply about and have strong opinions on. At debate clubs, literary society meetings, or gatherings of any kind, they sit silent, longing to speak but afraid to. If they stood up to make a motion or speak at a public gathering, the sound of their own voices would paralyze them. They blush and shrink further into themselves at the mere thought of asserting themselves. They cannot bear to present their views or opinions as worthy of attention or as valuable as those of their companions.

This timidity is often, however, not so much the fear of one's audience, as the fear lest one can make no suitable expression of his thought.

Often, however, this timidity is less a fear of the audience than a fear of not expressing one's thoughts adequately.

The hardest thing for the public speaker to overcome is self-consciousness. Those terrible eyes which pierce him through and through, which are measuring him, criticizing him, are very difficult to get out of one's consciousness.

The hardest thing for a public speaker to overcome is self-consciousness. It is hard to forget those terrible eyes that pierce him through and through, measuring and criticizing him.

But no orator can make a great impression until he gets rid of himself, until he can absolutely annihilate his self-consciousness, forget himself in his speech. While he is wondering what kind of an impression he is making, what people think of him, his power is crippled, and his speech to that extent will be mechanical, wooden.

But no speaker can make a great impression until he lets go of himself. He must completely overcome his self-consciousness and forget himself in his speech. As long as he wonders what impression he is making and what people think of him, his power is weakened. His speech will be mechanical and wooden to that extent.

Even a partial failure on the platform has good results, for it often arouses a determination to conquer the next time, which never leaves one. Demosthenes' heroic efforts, and Disraeli's "The time will come when you will hear me," are historic examples.

Even a partial failure when speaking in public can have good results. It often awakens a lasting determination to succeed next time. Demosthenes' heroic efforts and Disraeli's "The time will come when you will hear me," are historic examples.

It is not the speech, but the man behind the speech, that wins a way to the front.

It is not the speech, but the man behind it, who gets ahead.

One man carries weight because he is himself the embodiment of power, he is himself convinced of what he says. There is nothing of the negative, the doubtful, the uncertain in his nature. He not only knows a thing, but he knows that he knows it. His opinion carries with it the entire weight of his being. The whole man gives consent to his judgment. He himself is in his conviction, in his act.

A man carries weight because he embodies power and believes what he says. There is nothing negative, doubtful, or uncertain in his nature. He not only knows something, but he knows that he knows it. His opinion carries the full weight of his being. His whole being agrees with his judgment. He puts his whole self into his convictions and his actions.

One of the most entrancing speakers I have ever listened to—a man to hear whom people would go long distances and stand for hours to get admission to the hall where he spoke—never was able to get the confidence of his audience because he lacked character. People liked to be swayed by his eloquence. There was a great charm in the cadences of his perfect sentences. But somehow they could not believe what he said.

One of the most captivating speakers I have ever heard lacked character. People would travel long distances and stand for hours to get into the hall where he spoke. Yet he could never gain his audience's trust because he lacked character. People liked being moved by his eloquence. The rhythm of his perfect sentences was deeply charming. But somehow, they could not believe what he said.

The orator must be sincere. The public is very quick to see through shams. If the audience sees mud at the bottom of your eye, that you are not honest yourself, that you are acting, they will not take any stock in you.

A speaker must be sincere. The public is quick to see through pretense. If the audience sees dishonesty in your eyes and realizes you are putting on an act, they will not believe in you.

It is not enough to say a pleasing thing, an interesting thing, the orator must be able to convince; and to convince others he must have strong convictions.

It is not enough for a speaker to say something pleasing or interesting. A speaker must be able to convince others. To do that, he must have strong convictions.

Great speeches have become the beacon lights of history. Those who are prepared acquire a world-wide influence when the fit occasion comes.

Great speeches have become beacons in history. Those who are prepared gain worldwide influence when the right occasion comes.

Very few people ever rise to their greatest possibilities or ever know their entire power unless confronted by some great occasion. We are as much amazed as others are when, in some great emergency, we out-do ourselves. Somehow the power that stands behind us in the silence, in the depths of our natures, comes to our relief, intensifies our faculties a thousandfold and enables us to do things which before we thought impossible.

Very few people ever reach their full potential or know their full power unless they face a great challenge. In a great emergency, we sometimes surpass ourselves, and we are as amazed as anyone else. Somehow, the power that lies quietly deep within us comes to our aid. It strengthens our abilities a thousandfold and enables us to do things we once thought impossible.

It would be difficult to estimate the great part which practical drill in oratory may play in one's life.

It is hard to measure how important practical training in public speaking may be in a person's life.

Great occasions, when nations have been in peril, have developed and brought out some of the greatest orators of the world. Cicero, Mirabeau, Patrick Henry, Webster, and John Bright might all be called to witness to this fact.

Great moments of national danger have helped develop and bring out some of the world’s greatest orators. Cicero, Mirabeau, Patrick Henry, Webster, and John Bright all bear witness to this.

The occasion had much to do with the greatest speech delivered in the United States Senate—Webster's reply to Hayne. Webster had no time for immediate preparation, but the occasion brought all the reserves in this giant, and he towered so far above his opponent that Hayne looked like a pygmy in comparison.

The occasion played a large part in the greatest speech ever delivered in the United States Senate: Webster's reply to Hayne. Webster had no time to prepare beforehand. But the occasion brought out all this giant's reserves, and he towered over his opponent. Hayne looked like a pygmy in comparison.

The pen has discovered many a genius, but the process is slower and less effective than the great occasion that discovers the orator. Every crisis calls out ability, previously undeveloped, and perhaps unexpected.

Writing has revealed many a genius, but more slowly and less effectively than a great occasion reveals a speaker. Every crisis brings out abilities that were previously undeveloped and perhaps unexpected.

No orator living was ever great enough to give out the same power and force and magnetism to an empty hall, to empty seats, that he could give to an audience capable of being fired by his theme.

No speaker, however great, could bring the same power, force, and magnetism to an empty hall as to an audience inspired by the subject.

In the presence of the audience lies a fascination, an indefinable magnetism that stimulates all the mental faculties, and acts as a tonic and vitalizer. An orator can say before an audience what he could not possibly say before he went on the platform, just as we can often say to a friend in animated conversation things which we could not possibly say when alone. As when two chemicals are united, a new substance is formed from the combination, which did not exist in either alone, he feels surging through his brain the combined force of his audience, which he calls inspiration, a mighty power which did not exist in his own personality.

There is something fascinating about an audience, an indefinable magnetism that stimulates all the mental faculties. It acts as a tonic and gives us energy. A speaker can say things before an audience that he could not possibly say before stepping onto the platform. Likewise, in a lively conversation with a friend, we can often say things we could not possibly say alone. When two chemicals combine, they form a new substance that did not exist in either one alone. In the same way, a speaker feels the combined force of his audience surging through his brain. He calls it inspiration, a mighty power that did not exist in his own personality.

Actors tell us that there is an indescribable inspiration which comes from the orchestra, the footlights, the audience, which it is impossible to feel at a cold mechanical rehearsal. There is something in a great sea of expectant faces which awakens the ambition and arouses the reserve of power which can never be felt except before an audience. The power was there just the same before, but it was not aroused.

Actors tell us that the orchestra, the footlights, and the audience give them an indescribable inspiration. They cannot feel it during a cold, mechanical rehearsal. Something about a sea of expectant faces awakens ambition and stirs reserves of power. Actors can only feel this power before an audience. The power was there before, but it had not been stirred.

In the presence of the orator, the audience is absolutely in his power to do as he will. They laugh or cry as he pleases, or rise and fall at his bidding, until he releases them from the magic spell.

In the speaker's presence, the audience is completely under his control. They laugh or cry as he pleases. They rise and sit at his command, until he releases them from his magic spell.

What is oratory but to stir the blood of all hearers, to so arouse their emotions that they can not control themselves a moment longer without taking the action to which they are impelled?

What is oratory but stirring the blood of all listeners? It arouses their emotions so deeply that they cannot wait another moment to act on the impulse they feel.

"His words are laws" may be well said of the statesmen whose orations sway the world. What art is greater than that of changing the minds of men?

"His words are laws" may well be said of statesmen whose speeches sway the world. What art is greater than changing people's minds?

Wendell Phillips so played upon the emotions, so changed the convictions of Southerners who hated him, but who were curious to listen to his oratory, that, for the time being he almost persuaded them that they were in the wrong. I have seen him when it seemed to me that he was almost godlike in his power. With the ease of a master he swayed his audience. Some who hated him in the slavery days were there, and they could not resist cheering him. He warped their own judgment and for the time took away their prejudice.

Wendell Phillips moved people so deeply that he changed the convictions of Southerners who hated him but were curious to hear him speak. For the moment, he almost persuaded them that they were wrong. I have seen him when his power seemed almost godlike to me. He swayed his audience with the ease of a master. Some people who had hated him during the days of slavery were there, and they could not resist cheering him. He bent their judgment and, for the moment, took away their prejudice.

When James Russell Lowell was a student, said Wetmore Story, he and Story went to Faneuil Hall to hear Webster. They meant to hoot him for his remaining in Tyler's cabinet. It would be easy, they reasoned, to get the three thousand people to join them. When he begun, Lowell turned pale, and Story livid. His great eyes, they thought, were fixed on them. His opening words changed their scorn to admiration, and their contempt to approbation.

Wetmore Story said that when James Russell Lowell was a student, the two went to Faneuil Hall to hear Webster. They planned to jeer at him for staying in Tyler's cabinet. They thought it would be easy to get the three thousand people there to join them. When Webster began, Lowell turned pale, and Story's face turned ashen. They thought Webster's great eyes were fixed on them. His opening words turned their scorn into admiration and their contempt into approval.

"He gave us a glimpse into the Holy of Holies," said another student, in relating his experience in listening to a great preacher.

“He gave us a glimpse into the Holy of Holies,” said another student, describing what it was like to hear a great preacher.

Is not oratory a fine art? The well-spring of eloquence, when up-gushing as the very water of life, quenches the thirst of myriads of men, like the smitten rock of the wilderness reviving the life of desert wanderers.

Isn't public speaking a fine art? When eloquence springs up like the water of life, it quenches the thirst of countless people. It is like the struck rock in the wilderness, whose water revived desert wanderers.