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"
Words
are
relative
.
They
’
re
only
symbols
.
If
we
don
’
t
use
ugly
symbols
,
we
won
’
t
have
any
ugliness
.
Why
do
you
want
me
to
say
things
one
way
,
when
I
’
ve
already
said
them
another
?
"
"
Which
way
do
I
want
you
to
say
them
?
"
"
Why
do
you
want
me
to
?
"
"
For
the
same
reason
that
you
don
’
t
.
"
The
boy
had
remained
silent
for
a
moment
,
then
had
said
,
"
You
know
,
Mr
.
Rearden
,
there
are
no
absolute
standards
.
We
can
’
t
go
by
rigid
principles
,
we
’
ve
got
to
be
flexible
,
we
’
ve
got
to
adjust
to
the
reality
of
the
day
and
act
on
the
expediency
of
the
moment
.
"
"
Run
along
,
punk
.
Go
and
try
to
pour
a
ton
of
steel
without
rigid
principles
,
on
the
expediency
of
the
moment
.
"
A
strange
sense
,
which
was
almost
a
sense
of
style
,
made
Rearden
feel
contempt
for
the
boy
,
but
no
resentment
.
The
boy
seemed
to
fit
the
spirit
of
the
events
around
them
.
It
was
as
if
they
were
being
carried
back
across
a
long
span
of
centuries
to
the
age
where
the
boy
had
belonged
,
but
he
,
Rearden
,
had
not
.
Instead
of
building
new
furnaces
,
thought
Rearden
,
he
was
now
running
a
losing
race
to
keep
the
old
ones
going
;
instead
of
starting
new
ventures
,
new
research
,
new
experiments
in
the
use
of
Rearden
Metal
,
he
was
spending
the
whole
of
his
energy
on
a
quest
for
sources
of
iron
ore
:
like
the
men
at
the
dawn
of
the
Iron
Age
—
he
thought
—
but
with
less
hope
.
He
tried
to
avoid
these
thoughts
.
He
had
to
stand
on
guard
against
his
own
feeling
—
as
if
some
part
of
him
had
become
a
stranger
that
had
to
be
kept
numb
,
and
his
will
had
to
be
its
constant
,
watchful
anesthetic
.
That
part
was
an
unknown
of
which
he
knew
only
that
he
must
never
see
its
root
and
never
give
it
voice
.
He
had
lived
through
one
dangerous
moment
which
he
could
not
allow
to
return
.
It
was
the
moment
when
—
alone
in
his
office
,
on
a
winter
evening
,
held
paralyzed
by
a
newspaper
spread
on
his
desk
with
a
long
column
of
directives
on
the
front
page
—
he
had
heard
on
the
radio
the
news
of
Ellis
Wyatt
’
s
flaming
oil
fields
.
Then
,
his
first
reaction
—
before
any
thought
of
the
future
,
any
sense
of
disaster
,
any
shock
,
terror
or
protest
—
had
been
to
burst
out
laughing
.
He
had
laughed
in
triumph
,
in
deliverance
,
in
a
spurting
,
living
exultation
—
and
the
words
which
he
had
not
pronounced
,
but
felt
,
were
:
God
bless
you
,
Ellis
,
whatever
you
’
re
doing
!
