The Question Of Whether One Alleges The

I Sat There Beside Him Till Morning - And As I Watched His Face In The Starlight, Then The First Ray Of The Sun On His Untroubled Forehead And Closed Eyelids, What I Experienced Was Not A Prayer, I Do Not Pray, But That State Of Spirit At Which A Prayer Is A Misguided Attempt: A Full, Confident, Affirming Self-dedication To My Love Of The Right, To The Certainty That The Right Would Win And That This Boy Would Have The Kind Of Future He Deserved... I Did Not Expect It To Be As Great As This - Or As Hard.

When Intellectual Leaders Fail To Foster The Best In The Mixed, Unformed, Vacillating Character Of People At Large, The Thugs Are Sure To Bring Out The Worst. When The Ablest Men Turn Into Cowards, The Average Men Turn Into Brutes.

If You Saw Atlas, The Giant Who Holds The World On His Shoulders, If You Saw That He Stood, Blood Running Down His Chest, His Knees Buckling, His Arms Trembling But Still Trying To Hold The World Aloft With The Last Of His Strength, And The Greater His Effort The Heavier The World Bore Down Upon His Shoulders - What Would You Tell Him?" I…don't Know. What…could He Do? What Would You Tell Him?" To Shrug.

Power-lust Is A Weed That Grows Only In The Vacant Lots Of An Abandoned Mind.

The Man At The Top Of The Intellectual Pyramid Contributes The Most To All Those Below Him, But Gets Nothing Except His Material Payment, Receiving No Intellectual Bonus From Others To Add To The Value Of His Time. The Man At The Bottom Who, Left To Himself, Would Starve In His Hopeless Ineptitude, Contributes Nothing To Those Above Him, But Receives The Bonus Of All Of Their Brains. Such Is The Nature Of The 'competition' Between The Strong And The Weak Of The Intellect. Such Is The Pattern Of 'exploitation' For Which You Have Damned The Strong.