Friday, May 02, 2003
Sometimes there comes into our life, a book you expected to entertain and treat you to witticism. What you usually don't expect is that you find yourself and how you view the world, changed.
This is what Ayn Rand’s masterpiece, The Fountainhead, did to me.
The protagonist, Howard Roark is the most captivating fellow that I have ever met since Lestat de Lioncourt. If he was real, I would probably hate him. I mean, who wouldn’t?
He’ll be the only person that I will ever know who has a great and exceptional talent, who loved his work, who is not afraid of menial and humbling jobs, and who doesn’t truly care about money or fame. He’s incorruptible.
He is the paragon of virtues that we wish we had ourselves (Sigh, I wish I was Dominique Francon on the night he raped her).
But most importantly, he believes in the principle that artists should not imitate life, instead they should project and create masterpieces for life to imitate.
The Fountainhead is a must-have for all architects, painters, writers, and artists. It's a book made for all people who supports individuality. It’s a book for all people that opposes mediocrity.
Don’t borrow it. Steal (but not my copy) or buy it. It’s worth every other book you have in your shelf.
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