Atlas Shrugged

"What is morality?" she asked.

"Judgment to distinguish right and wrong, vision to see the truth, courage to act upon it, dedication to that which is good, integrity to stand by the good at any price. But where does one find it?"

She was watching the work, her glance intent and purposeful, the glance of competence enjoying its own function.

The sole secret of his rise in life was the fact that he was a product of chance and knew it and aspired to nothing else.

He had the cunning of the unintelligent and the frantic energy of the lazy.

“John Galt is Prometheus who changed his mind. After centuries of being torn by vultures in payment for having brought to men the fire of the gods, he broke his chains and he withdrew his fire—until the day when men withdraw their vultures.”

She felt his arm remain about her shoulders a moment longer than he intended her to notice.

You’re the man who would know that just as an idea unexpressed in physical action is contemptible hypocrisy, so is platonic love—and just as physical action unguided by an idea is a fool’s self-fraud, so is sex when cut off from one’s code of values.

The hours ahead, like all her nights with him, would be added, she thought, to that savings account of one’s life where moments of time are stored in the pride of having been lived.

You said once that celebrations should be only for those who have something to celebrate.”

I’m going to have you at the price of more than myself: at the price of my self esteem—and I want you to know it.