There is no such thing as great writing - there is only great re-writing!

My heart broke all over again. I wanted my life back, my mama, but I knew I would never have that. The child I had been was gone with the child she had been. We were new people, and we didn't know each other anymore. I shook my head desperately.

So, what do I call you?" I asked.   "Whomp."   "Whomp? Your given name?"   "It's the sound people make when I hit them in the chest.

I see man as a hero. With his own happiness as his moral obligation; productive achievementbas his noblest activity and reason as the only absolute.

Written By Ayn Rand

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