Ayn Rand Quotes

Pressure is something you feel when you don't know what the hell you're doing.

If the door is nailed shut, and you're 'Leaning In,' you're just going to get bruised and battered.

The plain unwelcome fact is that sometimes life stymies you.

Sometimes it’s all you can do,” he murmured. “Fight back; run wild, until you get it all out.” “Sometimes there is nothing to fight and nowhere to run.

The nature of things is, I admit, a sturdy adversary.

He who would lay hands upon us will encounter thorns and barbs!

The worst pain a man can have is to know much and be impotent to act.

Amos stopped before the entrance, which was the size of a garage door—a dark heavy square of timber with no visible handle or lock. “Carter after you.” “Um, how do I—” “How do you think?” Great another mystery. I was about to suggest we ram Amos’s head against it and see if that worked.

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

Trying to force something is the best way to stop it happening.

All the travelin I ever done is going around the coffeepot looking for the handle.

I am getting nowhere with you and I can't let you go and I cant get through.

Drug addicts are so funny that way. Just spinning around, lost in their own little world. Doing so much, accomplishing so little. How sad.

People are hurting and angry, and they want something to be able to stand up and fight for. That's what I believe the antidote is to Trumpism.

There are always risks in challenging excessive police power, but the risks of not challenging it are more dangerous, even fatal.

I have to. I've been fighting it all night. I'm going to lose. My battle is as futile as a woman feeling the first pangs of labor and deciding it's an inconvenient time to give birth. Nature wins out. It always does.

It's just me and the Bane. And I'm fighting him because he killed all of those innocent mice and people, and I have to stop him. Not because Sandwich says so but because I say so.

I thought we’d turned a corner. Maybe we did, but we hit a brick wall anyway.

Lately, I feel like my life is a book written in a language I don't know how to read.

I just stand there like a doofus wondering just what in the effing blazes is going on.

For seven days she lay in bed looking sullenly at the ceiling as though resenting the death she had cultivated for so many years. Like some people who cannot vomit despite horrible nausea, she lay there unable to die, resisting death as she had resisted life, frozen with resentment of process and change.

I'm in a situation with this girl that's as hopeless as overthrowing the Bush administration.

Mad is the man who is forever gritting his teeth against that granite block, complete and changeless, of the past.

Damn it, how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?

Feeling well that breathed words Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps Of grasshoppers against the sun.