ATLAS SHRUGGED
I wouldn’t want to seek it from a painting. I’d want it to be real. I’d take no pride in any hopeless longing. I wouldn’t hold a stillborn aspiration. I’d want to have it, to make it, to live it.
I wouldn’t want to seek it from a painting. I’d want it to be real. I’d take no pride in any hopeless longing. I wouldn’t hold a stillborn aspiration. I’d want to have it, to make it, to live it.
