A Time for Choosing

Among the images seared in my memory is that of standing alone at the railing of a ship on a cold and foggy winter morning sixty-five years ago when, as the sun began to break through mist, I first saw, bathed in an iridescent glow, the Statue of Liberty. I had traveled from a continent that had nearly destroyed itself and left in its wake nearly 40 million dead and millions more wounded or displaced. I came to a nation that had opened its arms to me, a nameless and displaced war orphan.

Source: A Time for Choosing

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