I have chosen the pages I read. I cut out everything else just to be here.
Here. This void. Now, who is to say that this void has to be filled? I, for one, do not wish to fill it. For the cavity, it stands testimony to what building, once stood there.
The creator stands on his own judgment. The parasite follows the opinions of others. The creator thinks, the parasite copies. The creator produces, the parasite loots. The creator’s concern is the conquest of nature – the parasite’s concern is the conquest of men. The creator requires independence, he neither serves nor rules. He deals with men by free exchange and voluntary choice. The parasite seeks power, he wants to bind all men together in common action and common slavery. He claims that man is only a tool for the use of others. That he must think as they think, act as they act, and live is selfless, joyless servitude to any need but his own. Look at history. Everything thing we have, every great achievement has come from the independent work of some independent mind. Every horror and destruction came from attempts to force men into a herd of brainless, soulless robots. Without personal rights, without personal ambition, without will, hope, or dignity. It is an ancient conflict. It has another name: the individual against the collective.
The blood flows off the virgin’s thigh
She savors the movement with an indiscriminate sigh
Her eyes shut. Her breath heaves. Her fingers dig deep.
Her mind, numb. Her face, red. She sees herself, leap.