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Barack Obama, commencement speech at the Univerversity of
Massachusetts
This commencement speech was held by the President B. Obama in front of the students of the University of Massachusetts. In this speech Obama didn't use many rhetorical devices. Anaphoras, antithesis, allusions and parallelisms are the most common. The language is formal, but not complex. Obama wanted to appear as one of those students sitting in front of him, not as a president. He wanted to deliver a message: people can achieve their goals no matter the obstacles and the difficulties they come across. In order to deliver this idea he started telling about the story of his life, his father and the difficulties he met. By combining it with the most common obstacles of all human beings and afterwards with those of the Americans (and especially of the African-Americans), the speech becomes very intriguing. Therefore we can find anaphoras, antithesises, assonances and alliterations which give the speech a more sentimental and effective impact. The "American Dream", A. Lincoln and Martin Luther King jr. are mentioned through the rhetoric device called allusion. Instead of saying their names Obama alludes to their birthplaces and their memorable actions. The purpose of Obama was to give the students hope and to encourage them to pursue their dreams and to overcome any future challenge. In order to do so, he used anaphoras like: "I hope", "you will", "no matter".
- ANAPHORA
- PERSONIFICATION
- ALLUSION
- ALLITERATION/ Assonance
- METAPHOR
- PARALLELISM
- AMPLIFITION
- ANTITHESIS
- LITOTE Good morning President Wilson, Chancellor Collins, the Board of Trustees, faculty, parents, family, friends, an the Class of
- Congratulations on your graduation, and thank you for allowing me the honor to be a part of it. It's always great to be back in Boston. As some of you may have heard, I was here a few years ago to give the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic Convention.
It was an amazing experience for me. A humbling honor. A tremendous opportunity. And if you had come up to me a few years earlier and told me I'd be there, I would've politely told you that you were out of your mind. Let me tell you what happened at the last convention I had been to. It was the year 2000, and I had just gotten my rear-end handed to me in my very first race for Congress. Didn't even make it past the primary. I was a little depressed, and more than a little broke, but some friends suggested that I get my mind off it by going to Los Angeles, where that year's Democratic Convention was being held. So I decided to go. And when my plane landed in LA, I got my luggage, walked on over to the Hertz counter, filled out all the forms to rent a car, gave my credit card to the nice woman behind the counter who, moments later, handed it back to me and said, "Mr. Obama, it seems we have a problem." That's right, my credit card was denied. After thirty more minutes of haggling, I finally made it to the convention, only to learn that I was thought of so highly by the Democratic Party that my credentials barely granted me access to the men's room - let alone backstage where all the action was. And so, being the VIP that I was, I spent the rest of the week as the guy in the room who nobody knew, but everyone knew didn't belong. Needless to say, when they asked me to be the convention's keynote speaker just four years later, I made sure I was getting a car. All joking aside, receiving that honor was a welcome change - and, as MasterCard could attest, more than a little unlikely. But of course, America is an unlikely place - a country built on defiance of the odds; on a belief in the impossible. And I remind you of this because as you set out to live your own stories of success and achievement, it's now your turn to help keep it this way. It's your turn to keep this daringly radical but unfailingly simple notion of America alive - that no matter where you're born or how much your parents have; no matter what you look like or what you believe in, you can still rise to become whatever you want; still go on to achieve great things; still pursue the happiness you hope for. Today, this dream sounds common - perhaps even cliche - yet for most of human history it's been anything but. As a servant of Rome, a peasant in China, or a subject of King George, there were very few unlikely futures. No matter how hard you worked or struggled for something better, you knew you'd spend your life forced to build somebody else's empire; to sacrifice for someone else's cause. But as the centuries passed, the people of the world grew restless. They were tired of tyranny and weary of their lot in life. And as they saw merchants start to sail across oceans and explorers set off in search of new worlds, they followed. It was right here, in the waters around us, where the American experiment began. As the earliest settlers arrived on the shores of Boston and Salem and Plymouth, they dreamed of building a City upon a Hill. And the world watched, waiting to see if this improbable idea called America would succeed. For over two hundred years, it has. Not because our dream has progressed perfectly. It hasn't. It has been scarred by our treatment of native peoples, betrayed by slavery, clouded by the subjugation of women, wounded by racism, shaken by war and depression.
low-income people. And finally, this small group of churches on the south side of Chicago wrote back and offered me a job helping them deal with the consequences of steel plants that had closed and put thousands out of work. The churches didn't have much money - so they offered me a grand sum of $12,000 a year plus $1,000 to buy a car. So I bought a beat up old car, packed up my belongings, got out a map, and started driving west to Chicago - a place I had never been and where I didn't know a living soul. About halfway between New York City and Chicago, I stopped for the night in a small town in Pennsylvania whose name I no longer remember. I found a motel that looked cheap and clean, I pulled into the driveway, and went to the counter, where there was an old guy doing crossword puzzles. I asked him for a room, and as he was filling out my information, he asked me where I was headed. I said I was going to Chicago, and I told him I was going there to work as a community organizer. And he looked at me and he said, "You know, you look like a nice clean-cut young man, and you've got a nice voice. So let me give you a piece of advice - forget this community organizing business. You can't change the world, and people won't appreciate you trying. What you should do is go into television broadcasting. I'm telling you, you've got a future." I could've taken my mother's advice and I could've taken my grandparents advice. I could've taken the path my friends traveled. And I could've taken the words of wisdom from that old man in Pennsylvania. And, objectively speaking, I'm sure he was right. But I knew there was something in me that wanted to try for something bigger. So don't let people talk you into doing the safe thing. Listen to what's in you and decide what it is that you care so much about that you're willing to take a chance. My second piece of advice is to stay global. As the world continues to change and we become more connected to each other, globalization will bring both benefits and disruptions to our lives. But either way, it's here, and it's not going away. We can try to build walls around us, and we can look inward, and we can respond by being frightened and angry about those disruptions. But that's not what we're about. We are a confident country, not a fearful one. We can meet these challenges. And that means every single one of us needs to learn more so we can compete more. It means we need an energy policy that will create new jobs in this country and end our dependence on oil from the Middle East. And it means we need to update our social contract to make sure that people have health care and pensions and training no matter where they work or how many times they switch jobs. But it doesn't mean we should ever withdrawal. We are better than that. My third piece of advice is to cultivate a sense of empathy - to put yourself in other people's shoes - to see the world from their eyes. Empathy is a quality of character that can change the world - one that makes you understand that your obligations to others extend beyond people who look like you and act like you and live in your neighborhood. I know that, especially on this campus, so many of you have been serving at homeless shelters and high schools and youth centers and job placement organizations all over the Boston area. And I hope this spirit of service lives on long after you leave here.
But as you continue on in life, it's not always easy. In the years to come, you will encounter all kinds of obstacles in the way of empathy. You will find people who, out of fear or need for power, try to divide us and deny what we have in common. You'll hear that the Americans who sleep in the streets and beg for food got there because they're all lazy or weak of spirit. That the immigrants who risk their lives to cross a desert have nothing to contribute to this country and no desire to embrace our ideals. That the inner-city children who are trapped in the nation's most dilapidated schools can't learn and won't learn and so we should just give up on them entirely. That the innocent people being slaughtered and expelled from their homes half a world away are somebody else's problem to take care of. You'll hear all of this, and you'll have to choose. You'll have to dec i de where your obligations l i e. And let me tell you - the easiest thing in the world is to do nothing at all. To turn off the TV, put down the paper, and walk away from the stories about Iraq or Darfur or poverty or violence or joblessness or hopelessness. To go about your busy lives, wishing these problems away but expecting someone else to do it. To remain detached; to remain indifferent; to remain safe. But I hope you don't do what's easy. I hope you do what's hard. I often imagine the young Americans - teenagers and college kids not much older than you - from all over the country, watching the Civil Rights Movement unfold before them on their television sets. I imagine that they would've seen the marchers and heard the speeches, but they also probably saw the dogs and the fire hoses, or the footage of innocent people being beaten within an inch of their lives, or maybe they would've heard the news the day those four little girls died when someone threw a bomb into their church. Instinctively, they knew that it was safer and smarter to stay at home; to watch the movement from afar. But somewhere in their hearts, they also understood that these people in Georgia and Alabama and Mississippi were their brothers and sisters; that what was happening was wrong; and that they had an obligation to make it right. And so when the buses pulled up for a Freedom Ride down South, they got on. And they rode. Thousands of them. And they changed the world. We need you to do the same. As Robert F. Kennedy once told a crowd of South Africans no older than you, "The world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease." Finally, my last piece of advice is to stay amazed - to remain in wonder at this unlikely place we call America. I think it's easy for some people to look at all the challenges we face; to look at poverty and war and racism and inequality and hatred and helplessness, and to get down on this country as a result - to think that there's something wrong with us - that there is little hope to make things better. And if you ever feel like that yourselves, I ask you to remember all the amazing and unlikely things that have happened in this country. This country where a young man from Illinois who failed at so many of the business and political ventures he attempted still went on to become the president who freed a people and saved a union. This country where a young black minister from Georgia who had nothing but a dream in his heart went on to lead his people to the promised land of civil rights and voting rights. This country where hundreds of parents all over the world who never had the chance to further their education could still watch their children become the first in their family to earn a degree on a hopeful Boston day in June.
- I hope
- you will/ you’ll
- more
- the problem
- no matter
- still
- we can
- it means
- to remain Metaphors:
- America will continue on its journey towards that distant horizon, and a better day → America will develop and improve its society and solve its problems constantly
- was freed from the shackles of colonialism → was liberated from the cruel colonialism
- to put yourself in other people's shoes → to see something from different perspectives
- I didn't know a living soul → I didn’t know anybody
- I was on the brink of graduating from college → almost graduating college
- waves of new immigrants → lots of immigrants
- a country built on defiance of the odds; on a belief in the impossible → a country whose men had an ideal Assonances:
- N o ne of this pr o gress happened o n its o wn Alliterations:
- th ose who doub t th at th ings are be tt er t oday th an th ey were yesterday. Personifications:
- It's your turn to keep this daringly radical but unfailingly simple notion of America alive → America seen as a person
Jeff Bezos, Amazon CEO
On May 30, 2010 Jeff Bezos held a commencement speech to the Princeton's Class of 2010. J. Bezos is founder, chairman and CEO of Amazon.com. The speech is a short story of his life. As child he used to spend his summers with his grandparents in Texas and travelled with them around the United States. At that age he loved mathematics and was already very clever. During a trip he learned the difference between gifts and choices. In the speech Bezon highlighted therefore the contrast between the two words and their meaning. By telling the difficulty of making a choice he mentioned the moment in which he decided to leave his well-paid job. He wanted to pursue his passion and took a risk for it. Now he's proud of that decision. He then asked students a few delicate questions. In the end, he concluded that every man chooses his own path based on the decisions he takes. In this speech Bezon didn't use many rhetorical devices and the most common are anaphoras, hypophoras and litotes. The language is rather informal.
- ANAPHORA
- HYPOPHORA
- ALLITERATION
- METAPHOR
- PARALLELISM
- LITOTE
- ANTITHESIS As a kid, I spent my summers with my grandparents on their ranch in Texas. I helped fix windmills, vaccinate cattle, and do other chores. We also watched soap operas every afternoon, e s pe c ially "Day s of our Live s ." My grandparents belonged to a Caravan Club, a group of Airstream trailer owners who travel together around the U.S. and Canada. And every few summers, we'd join the caravan. We'd hitch up the Airstream trailer to my grandfather's car, and off we'd go, in a line with 300 other Airstream adventurers. I loved and worshipped my grandparents and I really looked forward to these trips. On one particular trip, I was about 10 years old. I was rolling around in the b ig b ench seat in the b ack of the car. My grandfather was driving. And my grandmother had the passenger seat. She smoked throughout these trips, and I hated the smell. At that age, I'd take any excuse to make estimates and do minor arithmetic. I'd calculate our gas mileage -- figure out useless statistics on things like grocery spending. I'd been hearing an ad campaign about smoking. I can't remember the details, but basically the ad said, every puff of a cigarette takes some number of minutes off of your life: I think it might have been two minutes per puff. At any rate, I decided to do the math for my grandmother. I estimated the number of cigarettes per days, estimated the number of puffs per cigarette and so on. When I was satisfied that I'd come up with a reasonable number, I poked my head into the front of the car, tapped my grandmother on the shoulder, and proudly proclaimed, "At two minutes per puff, you've taken nine years off your life!" I have a vivid memory of what happened, and it was not what I expected. I expected to be applauded for my cleverness and arithmetic skills. "Jeff, you're so smart. You had to have made some tricky estimates, figure out the number of minutes in a year and do some division." That's not what happened. Instead, my grandmother
didn't think I'd regret trying and failing. And I suspected I would always be haunted by a decision to not try at all. After much consideration, I took the less safe path to follow my passion, and I'm proud of that choice. Tomorrow, in a very real sense, your life -- the life you author from scratch on your own -- begins. How will you use your gifts? What choices will you make? Will inertia be your guide, or will you follow your passions? Will you follow dogma, or will you be original? Will you choose a life of ease, or a life of service and adventure? Will you wilt under criticism, or will you follow your convictions? Will you bluff it out when you're wrong, or will you apologize? Will you guard your heart against rejection, or will you act when you fall in love? Will you play it safe, or will you be a little bit swashbuckling? When it's tough, will you give up, or will you be relentless? Will you be a cynic, or will you be a builder? Will you be clever at the expense of others, or will you be kind? I will hazard a prediction. When you are 80 years old, and in a quiet moment of reflection narrating for only yourself the most personal version of your life story, the telling that will be most compact and meaningful will be the series of choices you have made. In the end, we are our choices. Build yourself a great story. Thank you and good luck! Anaphoras:
- will you / or will you
- I’d
- we’d Metaphors:
- to burst into tears → cry a lot Alliterations:
- that' s the ca s e becau s e admi ss ion i s
- b rilliant b oss
- b ig b ench seat in the b ack of the car.
- that' s the ca s e becau s e admi ss ion i s
Litotes:
- someone who didn't already have a good job.
- wasn’t sure
- you’re not careful Hypophora:
- Was I in trouble? My grandfather was a highly intelligent, quiet man.
- He had never said a harsh word to me, and maybe this was to be the first time? Or maybe he would ask that I get back in the car and apologize to my grandmother.
