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11 - Anthem - Ayn Rand · Science Fiction Books - Daily

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  Chapter eleven. I am, I think, I will, my hands,
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  my spirit, my sky, my forest, this earth of mine. What
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  must I say? Besides these are the words? This is the answer.
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  I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and
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  I spread my arms. This my body and spirit. This is the end
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  of the quest. I wish to know the meaning of things. I am
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  the meaning. I wish to find a warrant for being. I need no
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  warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am
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  the warrant and the sanction. It is my eyes which see, and the
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  sight of my eyes grants beauty to the earth. It is my ears which
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  hear, and the hearing of my ears gives its song to the world.
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  It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the
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  only searchlight that confine the truth. It is my will which chooses, and
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  the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect. Many words
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  have been granted me, and some are wise and some are false, but
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  only three are holy. I will it whatever road I take. The guiding
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  star is within me. The guiding star and the lodestone which point the way
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  they point in. But one direction they point to me. I know not
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  if this earth on which I stand is the core of the universe, or
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  if it is a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not,
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  and I care not, for I know what happiness is possible to me on
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  earth, and my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it. My happiness
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  is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is
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  its own goal, it is its own purpose. Neither am I the means
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  to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for
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  their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not
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  a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on their altars.
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  I am a man. Miracle of me is mine to own and keep,
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  and mine to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before.
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  I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The
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  fortune of my spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung
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  to the winds as alms for the poor of the spirit. I guard my
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  treasures, my thought, my will, my freedom, and the greatest of
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  these is freedom. I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather
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  debts from them. I ask none to live for me, nor do I
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  live for any others. I covet no man's soul, nor is my soul
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  theirs to cove. I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but
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  such as each of them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love,
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  my brothers must do more than to have been born. I do not
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  grant my love without reason, nor to any chance or by who may wish
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  to claim it. I honor men with my love, but honor is a
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  thing to be earned. I shall choose friends among men, but neither slave
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  nor masters. And I shall choose only such as please me. And then
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  I shall love and respect, but neither command nor obey. And we shall
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  join our hands when we wish, or walk alone when we so desire.
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  For in the temple of his spirit, each man is alone. Let each
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  man keep his temple untouched and undefiled. Then let him join hands with others
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  if he wishes, but only beyond his holy threshold. For the word we
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  must never be spoken, save by one's choice, and as a second thought.
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  This word must never be placed first within man's soul, else it becomes
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  a monster. The root of all the evils on earth, the root of
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  man's torture by men, and an unspeakable lie. The word we is as
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  lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to stone and crushes all beneath
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  it. And that which is white and that which is black are lost equally
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  in the gray of it. And it is the word by which the depraved
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  steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal the might of
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  the strong, and by which the fools steal the wisdom of the sages.
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  What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into
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  it? What is my wisdom? If even the fools can dictate to me?
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  What is my freedom? If all creatures, even the botched and impotent,
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  are my masters? What is my life? If I am but to
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  bow, to agree, and to obey. But I am done with this
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  creed of corruption. I am done with the monster of we, the word
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  of serfdom of plunder, of misery and falsehood and shame. And now I
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  see the face of God, and I raise this God over the earth,
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  and this God whom men have sought since men came into being, This God
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  who will grant them joy and peace and pride, this God, this one
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  word. I end Chapter eleven.