It's why real men just go out in the woods and howl. I must do it and get paid.

We are not on our fours, howling in the woods, only because guilt saves us.

I forged myself out of a vacuum. I crawl along the highway on hacked off stumps year after year. Some wonder how and why. I never do.

It's one thing to buy a copy of 'Atlas Shrugged.' You actually have to read it to get anything out of it.

Why do you think the old stories tell of men who set out on great journeys to impress the gods? Because trying to impress people just isn't worth the time and effort.

The average is the borderline that keeps meremen in their place. Those who step over the line are heroes by the veryact. Go.