My Happiness Is Not The Means To

I Love You. As The Same Value, As The Same Expression, With The Same Pride And The Same Meaning As I Love My Work, My Mills, My Metal, My Hours At A Desk, At A Furnace, In A Laboratory, In An Ore Mine, As I Love My Ability To Work, As I Love The Act Of Sight And Knowledge, As I Love The Action Of My Mind When It Solves A Chemical Equation Or Grasps A Sunrise, As I Love The Things I've Made And The Things I've Felt, As *my* Product, As *my* Choice, As A Shape Of My World, As My Best Mirror, As The Wife I've Never Had, As That Which Makes All The Rest Of It Possible: As My Power To Live.

Since Reason Is Man’s Basic Means Of Survival, That Which Is Proper To The Life Of A Rational Being Is The Good; That Which Negates, Opposes Or Destroys It Is The Evil.

Do You Know The Hallmark Of The Second-rater? It's Resentment Of Another Man's Achievement.

I Think It's Funny. There Was A Time When Men Were Afraid That Somebody Would Reveal Some Secret Of Theirs That Was Unknown To Their Fellows. Nowadays, They're Afraid That Somebody Will Name What Everybody Knows. Have You Practical People Ever Thought That That's All It Would Take To Blast Your Whole, Big, Complex Structure, With All Your Laws And Guns - Just Somebody Naming The Exact Nature Of What You're Doing?

It's Not That I Don't Suffer, It's That I Know The Unimportance Of Suffering. I Know That Pain Is To Be Fought And Thrown Aside, Not To Be Accepted As Part Of One's Soul And As A Permanent Scar Across One's View Of Existence.