... manage." "You're smart, Jim," she said. "I'd better get dressed." He sounded pleased. He turned back to the washbowl, adding cheerfully, "Maybe I will take you out tonight and buy you some shish-kebab." The telephone rang. He lifted the receiver. The operator announced a long-distance call from Mexico City. The hysterical voice that came on the wire was that of his political man in Mexico. "I couldn't...
... beginning to understand your purpose." He smiled. "If you did, you wouldn't have come here." "That's true. I don't understand and probably never shall. I am merely beginning to see part of it." "Which part?" "You had exhausted every other form of depravity and sought a new thrill by swindling people like Jim and his friends, in order to watch them squirm. I don't know what sort of corruption could make...
... do to him?" "Yes. He's the one who's going to be wiped out next." "Do you ... find that ... amusing?" "Much more amusing than the ruin of the Mexican planners." She stood up. She had called him corrupt for years; she had feared it, she had thought about it, she had tried to forget it and never think of it again; but she had never suspected how far the corruption had gone. She was not looking at him...
.... What was happening to him?-he wondered. The impossible conflict of feeling reluctance to do that which was right-wasn't it the basic formula of moral corruption? To recognize one's guilt, yet feel nothing but the coldest, most profound indifference-wasn't it a betrayal of that which had been the motor of his life-course and of his pride? He gave himself no time to seek an answer. He finished dressing...
... I never thought I'd live to see the time when I'd have to do business that way. And all the while Mr. Orren Boyle was swearing to me that he was going to deliver the steel next week. But whatever he managed to pour, it went to new customers of his, for some reason nobody would mention, only I heard it whispered that they were men with some sort of political pull. And now I can't even get to Mr...
... to condemn anyone-he thought-to denounce anything, to fight and die joyously, claiming the sanction of virtue. The broken promises, the unconfessed desires, the betrayal, the deceit, the lies, the fraud-he was guilty of them all. What form of corruption could he scorn? Degrees do not matter, he thought; one does not bargain about inches of evil. He did not know-as he sat slumped at his desk...
... reason at all?" "No," he said quietly, "not if you wish to." "I have nothing weighty to discuss-no million-dollar orders, no transcontinental deals, no rails, no bridges. Not even the political situation. I just want to chatter like a woman about perfectly unimportant things." "Go ahead." "Henry, there's no better way to stop me, is there?" She had an air of helpless, appealing sincerity. "What can I...
.... It sounded like some sort of monstrous corruption that precluded the possibility of wondering whether anyone could mean it; he wondered only what was the point of uttering it. "What's love, darling, if it's not self-sacrifice?" she went on lightly, in the tone of a drawing-room discussion. "What's self-sacrifice, unless one sacrifices that which is one's most precious and most important? But I...
... had ever suspected her of experiencing. "I was not aware of it,” he said. "It's quite becoming, dear-and astonishing, since you've been having such a terribly difficult time." He wondered whether this was intended as a question. She paused, as if waiting for an answer, but she did not press it and went on gaily: "I know you're having all sorts of trouble at the mills-and then the political situation...
..., the night she heard some woman, who worked for a highbrow political magazine, say to her companion at the next table, "How generous of Jim!" Had he wished, she would have given him the only kind of payment she could offer in return. She was grateful that he did not seek it. But she felt as if their relationship was an immense debt and she had nothing to pay it with, except her silent worship. He did...
..., not by consent, but by compulsion-when you see that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing-when you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors-when you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don't protect you against them, but protect them against you-when you see corruption being rewarded and...
... and has the right to do so. I want you to look at me whenever you build another furnace, or pour another record breaking load of steel, or hear applause and admiration, whenever you feel proud of yourself, whenever you feel clean, whenever you feel drunk on the sense of your own greatness. I want you to look at me whenever you hear of some act of depravity, or feel anger at human corruption, or feel...
... ..." my political views. You've never "Don't you?" "You've always known my . objected before." "That's true," said Rearden gravely. "Perhaps I owe you an explanation, if I have misled you. I've tried never to remind you that you're riving on my charity. I thought that it was your place to remember it. I thought that any human being who accepts the help of another, knows that good will is the giver's...
... deserted her-" "Don't explain." "And besides, you misunderstood me, Henry. I haven't said anything to insult you. I wasn't speaking in any personal way. I was only discussing the general political picture from an abstract sociological viewpoint which-" "Don't explain," said Rearden. He was looking at Philip's face. It was half-lowered, its eyes looking up at him. The eyes were lifeless, as if they had...
... convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he's taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment-just try to think of performing it...
... tomorrow." She hesitated between Balph Eubank and Bertram Scudder, chose Balph Eubank, telephoned him and made a date for this evening's dinner and a musical show. Then she went to take a bath1, and lay relaxing in a tub of warm water, reading a magazine devoted to problems of political economy. It was late afternoon when the florist telephoned her. "Our Chicago office sent word that they were unable to...
... started, and stopped abruptly, realizing that- it was the way, the only way left, realizing through how many twists of intellectual corruption upon corruption this boy had to struggle toward his momentous discovery. "I guess that's not the word," the boy said sheepishly. "I know it's a stuffy, old-fashioned word. That's not what I meant. I meant-" It was a sudden, desperate cry of incredulous anger: "Mr...
... him as a walking classic. He had been considered profound for uttering such things as: "Freedom? Do let's stop talking about freedom. Freedom is impossible. Man can never be free of hunger, of cold, of disease, of physical accidents. He can never be free of the tyranny of nature. So why should he object to the tyranny of a political dictatorship?" When all of Europe put into practice the ideas which...
... formed the wordless conclusion that if this was done by the will of the people, then the people had to know it; he could not believe that they would do it, if they knew. The editor had refused; he had stated that it would be bad for the country's morale. The trainmaster knew nothing about political philosophy; but he knew that that had been the moment when he lost all concern for the life or death of...
... housewife who believed that she had the right to elect politicians, of whom she knew nothing, to control giant industries, of which she had no knowledge. The man in Bedroom F, Car No. 13, was a lawyer who had said, "Me? I'll find a way to get along under any political system." The man in Bedroom A, Car No. 14, was a professor of philosophy who taught that there is no mind-how do you know that the tunnel...
... looters, because you betray with full understanding of that which you're betraying. I don't know what form of corruption is your motive-but I want you to learn that there are things beyond your reach, beyond your aspiration or your malice." "You have nothing ... to fear from me ... now." "I want you to learn that you are not to think of her, not to look at her, not to approach her. Of all men, it's you...
... an ocean of mediocrity, under the pressure of men with gelatin eyes, rubber voices, spiral-shaped convictions, noncommittal souls and non-committing hands, she had held, as her life line and oxygen tube, the thought of a superlative achievement of the human mind-if, at the sight of the motor's remnant, in a sudden gasp of suffocation, as a last protest from his corruption-eaten lungs, Dr. Stadler...
... are about to witness an historical event, Dr. Stadler. An occasion which will become a milestone on the road of science, civilization, social welfare and political adaptability." Dr. Ferris' voice had the tone of a public relations man's memorized handout. "The turning point of a new era." "What event? What new era?" "As you will observe, only the most distinguished citizens, the cream of our...
...-through the staccato hoof beats of the announcer's voice galloping across the continent with a description of the new invention-and said in the tone of a casual remark, "It is vitally important that there be no criticism of the Project in the country at this precarious time," then added semi-accidentally, as a semi-joke, "that there be no criticism of anything at any time." "-and the nation's political...
... mildness. "He didn't ask my permission to say that!" Dr. Stadler half-snapped, half-whispered. Dr. Ferris spread out his hands in a gesture of reproachful helplessness. "Now you see, Dr. Stadler, how unfortunate it is if you allow yourself to be disturbed by political matters, which you have always considered unworthy of your attention and knowledge. You see, it is not Mr. Mouch's function to ask...
... competence; among his aged, corrupt, favor-ridden and pull-created colleagues, he had managed to achieve the rank of elite of the political press, by means and in the role of a last, irresistible spark of ability. His eyes had the look of an eager, unfrightened intelligence; they were the kind of eyes Dr. Stadler had seen looking up at him from the benches of classrooms. He noticed that this boy's eyes...
... felt the touch of Rearden Metal, as her hand closed over the stem of the microphone, and it was suddenly easy, not with the drugged ease of indifference, but with the bright, clear, living ease of action. "I came here to tell you about the social program, the political system and the moral philosophy under which you are now living." There was so calm, so natural, so total a certainty in the sound of...
... policies, such as Directive 10-289.1 have come here to tell you the truth about it. "It is true that I share the stand of Hank Rearden. His political convictions are mine. You have heard him denounced in the past as a reactionary who opposed every step, measure, slogan and premise of the present system. Now you hear him praised as our greatest industrialist, whose judgment on the value of economic...
... the words they were hearing and the theme of the broadcast; it was too late for them to move; they dared not assume the responsibility of a movement or of whatever was to follow. In the control room, a young intellectual of Chick Morrison's staff stood ready to cut the broadcast off the air in case of trouble, but he saw no political significance in the speech he was hearing, no element he could...
... construe as dangerous to his masters. He was accustomed to hearing speeches extorted by unknown pressure from unwilling victims, and he concluded that this was the case of a reactionary forced to confess a scandal and that, therefore, the speech had, perhaps, some political value; besides, he was curious to hear it "I am proud that he had chosen me to give him pleasure and that it was he who had been my...
..., a pure, full, guiltless joy, the joy you dread to hear confessed by any human being, the joy of which your only knowledge is in your hatred for those who are worthy of reaching it. Well, hate me, then-because I reached it!" "Miss Taggart," said Bertram Scudder nervously, "aren't we departing from the subject of ... After all, your personal relationship with Mr. Rearden has no political...
... significance which-" "[ didn't think it had, either. And, of course, I came here to tell you about the political and moral system under which you are now living. Well, I thought that I knew everything about Hank Rearden, but there was one thing which I did not learn until today. It was the blackmail threat that our relationship would be made public that forced Hank Rearden to sign the Gift Certificate...
... for the dreary senselessness of the art shows which his friends attended, of the novels they read, of the political magazines they discussed-the art shows, where she saw the kind of drawings she had seen chalked on any pavement of her childhood's slums-the novels, that purported to prove the futility of science, industry, civilization and love, using language that her father would not have used in...
... been expected to believe that the farce he had purchased was a process of law, that the edicts enslaving him had moral validity, that he was guilty of corrupting the integrity of the guardians of justice, and that the blame was his, not theirs. It was like blaming the victim of a holdup for corrupting the integrity of the thug. And yet-he thought -through all the generations of political extortion...
..., it was not the looting bureaucrats who had taken the blame, but the chained industrialists, not the men who peddled legal favors, but the men who were forced to buy them; and through all those generations of crusades against corruption, the remedy had always been, not the liberating of the victims, but the granting of wider powers for extortion to the extortionists. The only guilt of the victims...
... everything?" 'That's the law." "But ... Claude, they wouldn't do that to me, would they?" "They don't want him to go. You know that. Hold him, if you can." "But I can't! You know I can't! Because of my political ideas and ... and everything I've done for you, you know what he thinks of me! I have no hold on him at all!" "Well, that's your tough luck." "Claude!" Philip had cried in panic. "Claude, they...
... property. It's what you've approved of and believed in for years. You wanted me tied. I'm tied. Now it's too late to play any games about it." "Are you going to let some political ideas of yours-" She saw the look on his face and stopped abruptly. Lillian sat looking down at the floor, as if afraid to glance up at this moment. Philip sat cracking his knuckles. His mother dragged her eyes into focus again...
... sounds she was making were now a string of cackling gasps, an unrecognizable corruption of laughter. "Well, I think you'd like to know that your wife's been laid by another man! I've been unfaithful to you, do you hear me? I've been unfaithful, not with some great, noble lover, but with the scummiest louse, with Jim Taggart! Three months ago! Before your divorce! While I was your wife! While I was...
... at you as if self-esteem were possible and they expected you to have it Guilt is all that you retain within your soul-and so does every other man, as he goes past, avoiding your eyes. Do you wonder why your morality has not achieved brotherhood on earth or the good will of man to man? "The justification of sacrifice, that your morality propounds, is more corrupt than the corruption it purports to...
..., the rotter, the liar, the failure, the coward, the fraud, and to exile from the human race the hero, the thinker, the producer, the inventor, the strong, the purposeful, the pure-as if 'to feel' were human, but to think were not, as if to fail were human, but to succeed were not, as if corruption were human, but virtue were not -as if the premise of death were proper to man, but the premise of life...
... clear to rebuild this country-until the wreckage of the morality of sacrifice has been wiped out of our way. A country's political system is based on its code of morality. We will rebuild America's system on the moral premise which had been its foundation, but which you treated as a guilty underground, in your frantic evasion of the conflict between that premise and your mystic morality: the premise...
... clutch and clubs them with it in their turn, all of them clamoring protestations of service to an unnamed public's unspecified good. You had said that you saw no difference between economic and political power, between the power of money and the power of guns-no difference between reward and punishment, no difference between purchase and plunder, no difference between pleasure and fear, no difference...
... discovered its nature, its meaning, its splendor. Those who choose to join us, will join us; those who don't, will not have the power to stop us; hordes of savages have never been an obstacle to men who carried the banner of the mind. "Then this country will once more become a sanctuary for a vanishing species: the rational being. The political system we will build is contained in a single moral premise...
... November 27, a speaker at a political meeting in Cleveland was beaten up and had to escape by scurrying down dark alleys. His silent audience had come to sudden life when he had shouted that the cause of all their troubles was their selfish concern with their own troubles. On the morning of November 29, the workers of a shoe factory in Massachusetts were astonished, on entering their workshop, to find...
..., frowning-some odd, too personal resentment, as if it were not a political issue that he had come here to solve. "If you had any sense of responsibility," Taggart was saying, "you wouldn't dare take such a chance on nothing but your own judgment! You would join us and consider some ideas other than your own and admit that we might be right, too! You would help us with our plans! You would-" Taggart went...
...?" "John Galt has made a deal with the government and has brought us all back." "Oh, thank God!" cried one of the guards, the youngest. "Shut your mouth! You're not to have any political opinions!" snapped the chief, and jerked back to Rearden. "Why hasn't it been announced on the radio?" "Do you presume to hold opinions on when and how the government should choose to announce its policies?" In the long...