Late at night, often, she came to Roark’s room. She came unannounced, certain of finding him there and alone. In his room, there was no necessity to spare, lie, agree and erase herself out of being. Here she was free to resist, to see her resistance welcomed by an adversary too strong to fear a contest, strong enough to need it; she found a will granting her the recognition of her own entity, untouched and not to be touched except in clean battle, to win or to be defeated, but to be preserved in victory or defeat, not ground into the meaningless pulp of the impersonal. Prose like this stirs emotions every time you read it. These lines are like a dynamite of meaning, waiting to explode for those who can relate to them. Ayn Rand, you are being missed!
Posted on: Sat, 10 May 2014 15:51:39 +0000