Some people are ants by nature; they have to work, even when it’s useless. Few people have a talent for constructive laziness.

Charles gave his hat to Mary, set his lapels, wished he were dead, then went down the hall and into his ordeal.

The time is gone when mere accidents could still happen to me; and what could still come to me now that was not mine already? What returns, what finally comes home to me, is my own self and what of myself has long been in strange lands and scattered among all things and accidents.

It is my mind which thinks, and the judgement of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect.

Written By Ayn Rand

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