"He looked at the granite. To be cut, he thought, and made into walls. He looked at a tree. To be split and made into rafters. He looked at a streak of rust on the stone and thought of iron ore under the ground. To be melted and to emerge as girders against the sky.
These rocks he thought, are here for me; waiting for the drill, the dynamite and my voice; waiting to be split, ripped, pounded, reborn; waiting for the shape my hands will give them."
I often reflect on these thoughts shared by Howard Roark in the "Fountainhead". To me they speak to the incredible creative powers that are to be discovered in each of us. It is an incredible high to be able to tap into that vein and create something truly unique and of value. It is an incredible low to discover that you have wasted your time by not mining out those creative forces that lay dormant in each of us.
1 comment:
Have you read Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand (same author as The Fountainhead? It's only of my very favorite books. Your post made me want to re-read them both. Thanks for sharing,
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