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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 1054/1581
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"
Given
up
?
"
said
Hugh
Akston
.
"
Check
your
premises
,
Miss
Taggart
.
None
of
us
has
given
up
.
It
is
the
world
that
has
.
.
.
What
is
wrong
with
a
philosopher
running
a
roadside
diner
?
Or
a
cigarette
factory
,
as
I
am
doing
now
?
All
work
is
an
act
of
philosophy
.
And
when
men
will
learn
to
consider
productive
work
—
and
that
which
is
its
source
—
as
the
standard
of
their
moral
values
,
they
will
reach
that
state
of
perfection
which
is
the
birthright
they
lost
.
.
.
The
source
of
work
?
Man
’
s
mind
,
Miss
Taggart
,
man
’
s
reasoning
mind
.
I
am
writing
a
book
on
this
subject
,
defining
a
moral
philosophy
that
I
learned
from
my
own
pupil
.
.
.
Yes
,
it
could
save
the
world
.
.
.
No
,
it
will
not
be
published
outside
.
"
"
Why
?
"
she
cried
.
"
Why
?
What
are
you
doing
,
all
of
you
?
"
"
We
are
on
strike
,
"
said
John
Galt
.
They
all
turned
to
him
,
as
if
they
had
been
waiting
for
his
voice
and
for
that
word
.
She
heard
the
empty
beat
of
time
within
her
,
which
was
the
sudden
silence
of
the
room
,
as
she
looked
at
him
across
a
span
of
lamplight
.
He
sat
slouched
casually
on
the
arm
of
a
chair
,
leaning
forward
,
his
forearm
across
his
knees
,
his
hand
hanging
down
idly
—
and
it
was
the
faint
smile
on
his
face
that
gave
to
his
words
the
deadly
sound
of
the
irrevocable
:
"
Why
should
this
seem
so
startling
?
There
is
only
one
kind
of
men
who
have
never
been
on
strike
in
human
history
.
Every
other
kind
and
class
have
stopped
,
when
they
so
wished
,
and
have
presented
demands
to
the
world
,
claiming
to
be
indispensable
—
except
the
men
who
have
carried
the
world
on
their
shoulders
,
have
kept
it
alive
,
have
endured
torture
as
sole
payment
,
but
have
never
walked
out
on
the
human
race
.
Well
,
their
turn
has
come
.
Let
the
world
discover
who
they
are
,
what
they
do
and
what
happens
when
they
refuse
to
function
.
This
is
the
strike
of
the
men
of
the
mind
,
Miss
Taggart
.
This
is
the
mind
on
strike
.
"
She
did
not
move
,
except
for
the
fingers
of
one
hand
that
moved
slowly
up
her
cheek
to
her
temple
.
"
Through
all
the
ages
,
"
he
said
,
"
the
mind
has
been
regarded
as
evil
,
and
every
form
of
insult
:
from
heretic
to
materialist
to
exploiter
—
every
form
of
iniquity
:
from
exile
to
disfranchisement
to
expropriation
—
every
form
of
torture
:
from
sneers
to
rack
to
firing
squad
—
have
been
brought
down
upon
those
who
assumed
the
responsibility
of
looking
at
the
world
through
the
eyes
of
a
living
consciousness
and
performing
the
crucial
act
of
a
rational
connection
.
Yet
only
to
the
extent
to
which
—
in
chains
,
in
dungeons
,
in
hidden
corners
,
in
the
cells
of
philosophers
,
in
the
shops
of
traders
—
some
men
continued
to
think
,
only
to
that
extent
was
humanity
able
to
survive
.
Through
all
the
centuries
of
the
worship
of
the
mindless
,
whatever
stagnation
humanity
chose
to
endure
,
whatever
brutality
to
practice
—
it
was
only
by
the
grace
of
the
men
who
perceived
that
wheat
must
have
water
in
order
to
grow
,
that
stones
laid
in
a
curve
will
form
an
arch
,
that
two
and
two
make
four
,
that
love
is
not
served
by
torture
and
life
is
not
fed
by
destruction
—
only
by
the
grace
of
those
men
did
the
rest
of
them
learn
to
experience
moments
when
they
caught
the
spark
of
being
human
,
and
only
the
sum
of
such
moments
permitted
them
to
continue
to
exist
.
It
was
the
man
of
the
mind
who
taught
them
to
bake
their
bread
,
to
heal
their
wounds
,
to
forge
their
weapons
and
to
build
the
jails
into
which
they
threw
him
.
He
was
the
man
of
extravagant
energy
—
and
reckless
generosity
—
who
knew
that
stagnation
is
not
man
’
s
fate
,
that
impotence
is
not
his
nature
,
that
the
ingenuity
of
his
mind
is
his
noblest
and
most
joyous
power
—
and
in
service
to
that
love
of
existence
he
was
alone
to
feel
,
he
went
on
working
,
working
at
any
price
,
working
for
his
despoilers
,
for
his
jailers
,
for
his
torturers
,
paying
with
his
life
for
the
privilege
of
saving
theirs
.
