Another one, from Ayn Rand...

I was reading Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead for like the nth time, over this long weekend and just had to make a note of this one particular monologue.

Scene –

Steven Mallory misses his appointment with Howard Roark and there is no hear from him for over a week. Roark decides to hunt down Mallory and after inquiring with a great many art dealers, architects and art galleries, tracks down his address. Roark goes to meet Mallory in person. An initially reluctant Mallory puts up a brief and unconvincing “don’t give a damn” appearance before finally giving in to his paranoia. He eventually breaks down without caring for Roark’s presence but it’s a certain plaster plaque of a baby done by Mallory that has Roark murderously angry and wondering, such great talent so criminally ill-treated!! Roark orders Mallory to talk about things that really matter and Mallory, shocked to realize that is exactly what he wants, opens up. Mallory goes to Roark’s office the following day with an impeccable confidence, facing Roark as an equal and an ally for life, the horrendous past not yet forgotten but conveniently put aside.

The dialogue goes as below –

Roark pulled the chair over to the bed and sat down. “Now,” he said, “talk. Talk about the things you really want said. Don't tell me about your family, your childhood, your friends or your feelings. Tell me about the things you think

Mallory looked at him incredulously and whispered: "How did you know that?"

Roark smiled and said nothing.

"How did you know what's been killing me? Slowly, for years, driving me to hate people when I don't want to hate.... Have you felt it, too? Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you -- except the things that count? And your most important is nothing to them, nothing, not even a sound they can recognize. You mean, you want to hear? You want to know what I do and why I do it, you want to know what I think? It's not boring to you? It's important?"

"Go ahead," said Roark.

Then he sat for hours, listening, while Mallory spoke of his work, of the thoughts behind his work, of the thoughts that shaped his life, spoke gluttonously, like a drowning man flung out to shore, getting drunk on huge, clean snatches of air.

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Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you -- except the things that count?

I swear to God, had I read Ayn Rand while I was doing B.E, I’d have quit college and gone insane in some terrifically insane sort of a way. I always wondered why I was some kind of a misfit there, and later found the answers neatly compiled in a book that has been on the bestsellers’ list since 1943!! I’ve since been ridiculously glad and relieved that I did not pick Ayn Rand earlier.