Ask anything of men. Ask them to achieve wealth, fame, love, brutality, murder, self-sacrifice. But don’t ask them to achieve self-respect. They will… - Ayn Rand

Why no. I’m too conceited. If you want to call it that. I don’t make
comparisons. I never think of myself in relation to anyone else. I just refuse
to measure myself as part of anything. I’m an utter egotist.

"Look, Gail." Roark got up, reached out, tore a thick branch off a tree, held it in both hands, one fist closed at each end; then, his wrists and knuckles tensed against the resistance, he bent the branch slowly into an arc. "Now I can make what I want of it: a bow, a spear, a cane, a railing. That's the meaning of life."

"Your strength?"

"Your work." He tossed the branch aside. "The material the earth offers you and what you make of it . . . "

It's a curse, you know, to be able to look higher than you're allowed to reach.