How much of Africa had been explored out of simple hatred?

To see him ski is to see fluidity, as if he were a droplet of water trickling down a rough plaster wall.

[A sane person would have turned down the assignment.] And all this risk for what? ... To satisfy my selfish sense of curiosity? To write a magazine article?

At the Mercy of the River: An Exploration of the Last African Wilderness.

That was when it was all made painfully clear to me. When you are a child, there is joy. There is laughter. And most of all, there is trust. Trust in your fellows. When you are an adult...then comes suspicion, hatred, and fear. If children ran the world, it would be a place of eternal bliss and cheer. Adults run the world; and there is war, and enmity, and destruction unending. Adults who take charge of things muck them up, and then produce a new generation of children and say, "The children are the hope of the future." And they are right. Children are the hope of the future. But adults are the damnation of the present, and children become adults as surely as adults become worm food.
Adults are the death of hope.

Don't try to talk anyone out of concentrating his hatred on Ayn Rand or any other dead person. It can't harm the dead. Diverted to a living person, it might actually do harm.