Random Quotes From Ayn Rand
It only stands to reason that where there’s sacrifice, there’s someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there’s service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the master.
Reason is not automatic. Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it. Do not count on them. Leave them alone.
The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.
Ayn Rand, was a Russian-born American novelist and philosopher. She is widely known for her best-selling novels The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and for developing a philosophical system she called Objectivism.
A Random Thought
I find a vein of hopelessness in the fact that the evil done in the world is remembered through ages and millenniums, but the good works of a man are most often forgotten even before the end of his lifetime.
My Sin
I have fallen, Lord, once more. I can’t go on and I’ll never succeed. I’m ashamed and I don’t dare look at you. And yet I’ve struggled Lord, for I knew you were right near me bending over me, watching. But temptation blew in like a hurricane and, instead of looking at you, I turned my head away and stepped aside while you stood silent and sorrowful, like the squirmed fiancée who sees his loved one carried off by his rival.
When the wind had died down as suddenly as it had arisen, when the lightening ceased after proudly streaking the darkness, all of a sudden I found myself alone, ashamed, disgusted with my sin in my hands. This sin that I selected, as a customer selects his purchase. This sin that I paid for but cannot return, for the store keeper is no longer there. This tasteless sin, this odious sin, this sin that now sickens me, which I once wanted, but I want no more. That I imagined, sought, played with, fondled for a long time, that I finally embraced by passing you.
My arms outstretched, my eyes and heart irresistibly drawn, this sin that I’ve grasped and consumed with a gluttony. It’s mine now, Lord, but it possesses me as a spider web holds captive the fly. It’s mine and sticks to me. It flows in my veins and fills my heart. It has slipped in everywhere, as darkness slips into the forest at dusk and fills all the patches of light. Lord, I can’t seem to get rid of it. I run from it like the master of an unwanted and mangy dog. But it catches up with me and rubs joyfully against my legs. Everyone must notice it. I’m so ashamed that I feel like crawling to avoid being seen. I’m ashamed of being seen by my friends, Lord. I’m ashamed of being seen by you, for you loved me and I forgot you. I forgot you because I was thinking only of myself, and one can’t think of several persons at once; one must choose and I chose.
And now, Lord, your voice, your look, and your love hurt me. They weigh me down more than my sin. Lord, please don’t look at me like that, I’m naked and dirty, down and shattered with no strength left, and I dare not make any more promises. I can only stand bowed before you, Lord.
Come on, son, look up. Isn’t it mainly your vanity that has ruined it? If you loved me you would grieve, but you would trust. Do you think there’s a limit to God’s love? Do you think for a moment I have stopped loving you? But you still rely on yourself, son, you must rely on me. Ask my pardon and get up quickly. You see, it’s not falling that is the worst, but staying on the ground.
The Hound Of Heaven
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
“All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
Yet I was sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)
But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden - to Eve: Be soon;
With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover -
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged His chariot ‘thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet: -
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat -
“Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.”Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at had the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
“And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherfore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I make much of naught” (He said),
“And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited -
Of all man’s clotted clay, the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come.”Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
“Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.”
-Francis Thompson