I know you are asking today, "How long will it take?" Somebody’s asking, "How long will prejudice blind the visions of men, darken their understanding, and drive bright-eyed wisdom from her sacred throne?" Somebody’s asking, "When will wounded justice, lying prostrate on the streets of Selma and Birmingham and communities all over the South, be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men?" Somebody’s asking, "When will the radiant star of hope be plunged against the nocturnal bosom of this lonely night, plucked from weary souls with chains of fear and the manacles of death? How long will justice be crucified, and truth bear it?"
I come to say to you this afternoon, however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because "truth crushed to earth will rise again."
How long? Not long, because "no lie can live forever."
How long? Not long, because "you shall reap what you sow."
How long? Not long:
Truth forever on the scaffold,
Wrong forever on the throne,
Yet that scaffold sways the future,
And, behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow,
Keeping watch above his own.
How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.
How long? Not long, because:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat.
O, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant my feet!
The American jury makes a profound contribution to the very structure and fabric of American law, Ciulla v. Rigny, 89 F. Supp. 2d 97, 98 (D. Mass. 2000), and so it is here. Indeed, this particular case would be of little interest to anyone other than the litigants were it not for the remarkable role of the American jury. According to this federal jury, a broker-dealer who fails to disclose his poor forex trading record to clients, where knowledge of such a record may influence whether they choose to invest in forex with him managing that investment, violates his fiduciary duties and the Exchange Act. Since this jury determined that a broker-dealer who fraudulently has failed to disclose his poor forex trading record has violated the Exchange Act, other broker-dealers should now be on notice that such a failure by them could lead to the same finding. This important jury finding is as much “the law” as it would be were this Court to have made the same finding in a jury-waived case. No longer can the securities industry simply advance the SEC’s equivocation or its own internal procedures as the standard against which its conduct should be measured. Why? An American jury has said so.
Anyway the retroactive modification of a plan can't be used to diminish damages to which participants have been held entitled, even if the modification is lawful. In effect the defendant is arguing that okay, we screwed our participants unlawfully, but we could have screwed them lawfully, and that’s what we’ve now done by amending the plan, and since the amendment is retroactive it wipes out the claims on which the case is based, mooting the lawsuit.
He is what Wall Street is all about, and it scared me.
Evelyn Linares, member of jury that found Fabrice Tourre guilty of six counts of federal securities fraud for selling an exotic debt investment without disclosing that the man who put it together expected it to fail spectacularly.
For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet, it not only hasn’t begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against that position and those circumstances which made more men than Garnett and Kemper and Armistead and Wilcox look grave yet it’s going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn’t need even a fourteen-year-old boy to think This time. Maybe this time with all this much to lose than all this much to gain: Pennsylvania, Maryland, the world, the golden dome of Washington itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made two years ago.
[Photo shows Big Round Top (on right) and Little Round Top (to left of Big Round Top) from Seminary Ridge. Pickett's charge, which Faulkner refers to, crossed the same field farther to the left, aiming at the center of Union lines. ]