"The decision, I think, was not an easy one. The citizens of our great democracy are not sheep, to be led first this way and then that; they are not dead leaves to be carried by every vagrant breeze that blows; they are not children, nor are they fools."
He looked searchingly from the screen, as though to see into the minds of every person watching.
"Do not mistake my meaning," he said levelly. "I do not mean that there are no fools among us. There are." Again he paused for effect. "Every man, every woman, who, through laziness or neglect or complacency, failed to make his desire known at the polls in this election—is a fool. Every citizen who thinks that his vote doesn't count for much, and therefore fails to register that vote—is a fool. Every person who accepts the privileges of American citizenship and considers them as rights, and who neglects the duties of citizenship because they are tiresome—is a fool."
He waited for half a second.
"Fortunately for us all, the fools are in a minority in our country. This election shows that. Most of you have done your duty and followed your conscience as you see fit. And I congratulate you for that."
The smile became less broad—by just the right amount.
"Four years ago, exercising that same privilege and duty, you, the citizens of the United States, honored me and those who were working with me by electing us to the highest offices in this nation. You elected us, I believe, because we made certain promises to you—solemn promises that were made in our platform four years ago."
He took a deep breath and folded his hands below his chin.
"I am certain that you all know we have endeavored to keep those promises. I am certain that you know that we have kept faith with the people of this nation."
He looked down for a moment, then looked up again.