I feel that others live up to me, if they want me.
I am, therefore I'll think
Here’s another. Kill man’s sense of values. Kill his capacity to recognise greatness or to achieve it. Great men can’t be ruled. We don’t want any great men. Don’t deny conception of greatness. Destro...
He looked at the granite. To be cut, he thought, and made into walls. He looked at a tree. To be split and made into rafters. He looked at a streak of rust on the stone and thought of iron ore under t...
Capitalism was the only system in history where wealth was not acquired by looting, but by production, not by force, but by trade, the only system that stood for man's right to his own mind, to his wo...
Art is a selective re-creation of reality according to an artists metaphysical value judgments.
But why should you care what people will say? All you have to do is please yourself.
The man who discovers new knowledge is the permanent benefactor of humanity.
Anyone who fights for the future, lives in it today.
My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only...
Just as man can't exist without his body, so no rights can exist without the right to translate one's rights into reality, to think, to work and keep the results, which means: the right of property.
I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.
We are fast approaching the stage of the ultimate inversion: the stage where the government is free to do anything it pleases, while the citizens may act only by permission which is the stage of the d...
But their eyes were as cold blue glass buttons.
Worry is a waste of emotional reserve.
Whatever it was, he thought, whatever the strain and the agony, they were worth it, because they had made him reach this day
Theirs is the banner in my hand. And I wish I had the power to tell them that the despair of their hearts was not to be final, and their night was not without hope. For the battle they lost can never...
The theory that holds good blood or bad blood as a moral-intellectual criterion , can lead to nothing but torrents of blood in practice.
The sky is like a black sieve pierced by silver drops that tremble, ready to burst through.
The shadows of leaves fall upon their arms, as they spread the branches apart, but their shoulders are in the sun. The skin of their arms is like a blue mist, but their shoulders are white and glowing...